Meet Lyn Morgan aka Lyn Lawrence

The Write Way Café welcomes Lyn Morgan aka Lyn Lawrence,  whose life is made of stories.

 
What inspired you to become an author?  
I was always telling stories even before I wrote them down. Often to amuse my friends since I was a child in the ‘40’s and we devised our own fun without tablets or cell phones. Soon I began to write them down. Then when I was 12, my sixth grade teacher told me I would someday write books.
 
Can you share a little of your current work with us?  
Presently I am working on a television pilot titled BIGFOOTVILLE. Doing final edits on a new book to be published this fall titled, DARK WEB OF DREAMS and if that is not enough, my memoirs, MEMOIRS OF EVELYN ROSE CAT which has a potential publisher
 
Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing? 
When I write about things that are sad or have hurt other people or even have to write a death in a romantic suspense, I find those topics difficult and challenging.
 
Do you read your reviews? Do you respond to them, good or bad? Do you have any advice on how to deal with the bad?
I read them, I only rarely respond to them. For bad reviews, a best selling author once told me she was always driven to buy and read books with really bad reviews and was convinced some bad reviews were written by the envious. Haha, so I felt better about one in a romance magazine no longer being published that had gained me only one star.
 
What is your best marketing tip? 
I don’t market very well. I recently had good results with a Facebook boost on my author page and one on a page for a movie I co-wrote..

What is your least favorite part of the publishing / writing process? 
Well, if I have to self-publish, I do not enjoy the formatting phase. Thankfully I have a publisher for the book coming out in the fall and don’t have to do it. This publisher is new and is Southeast Media.
 
Is there one subject you would never write about as an author? What is it? 
I will not write erotica ever. I will rarely use bad language.
 
Why did you choose to write in your particular field or genre?  If you write more than one, how do you balance them? 
I write in more than one. My preferred genre is romantic suspense and I have written three that are in print. I like romance novels and I have written one historical romance. LOVE IS A VERB is in print. I have planned and partially written a Civil War series. And I also write scripts. And non-fiction. And books about my movies.
 
Where did your love of books/storytelling/reading/writing/etc. come from? 
Both my parents and grandparents were all avid readers. One grandmother was also a librarian. I was raised in a household filled with every kind of book and I read constantly as a child and until I finally started writing and publishing my own works. I have only limited reading time now. But I always have at least one book I am reading.
 
What cultural value do you see in writing/reading/storytelling/etc.?  
Wow, is there culture without reading? Recently on a flight, I sat by two high school seniors and we talked the whole way about books and I was amazed at those they were familiar with. As for storytelling, it has always been a part of human life. Around camp fires, at family gatherings, anywhere.
 
How do you feel about ebooks vs. print books and alternative vs. conventional publishing? 
I read both ebooks and actual print books. Ebooks are easy on my old joints and my fading eyesight. I am now in my eighties and holding print books tire my hands. I love print books and am proud to say one of mine has made it into hardback, STONE JUSTICE, a true crime which in ebook form was on the top 100 list on Amazon for a couple of months.

What do you think is the future of reading/writing? 

There will always be readers. There will always be writers.
 
What are some ways in which you promote your work?  Do you find that these add to or detract from your writing time? 
Well, sometimes they do detract from writing time, but book signings, teaching classes at any venue possible from community colleges to informal ones at writers conferences, and critique groups and/or book clubs. I’ve done all of these.
 
What is your favorite place or way to meet readers?
At a book signing. It is always a treat, especially is they are my fans.

Do you have any tips for readers or advice for other writers trying to get published? 
Keep reading. Keep writing. 

So long folks!

Lyn Morgan aka Lyn Lawrence

BEST HOTEL ROYALE

In a seemingly haunted Hot Springs, AR hotel, 

Cassie fights for her independence and her 

baby daughter's life while falling in love 

with the owner of the hotel.

 

LOVE IS A VERB

A young Indiana school teacher

leaves her groom at the altar 

to head by steamboat 

to Louisiana to teach.

BROUSSARD BAYOU INN 

Shay and Tony, once both members 

of the Cajun posse's water patrol, 

are brought together again when he 

returns to town, but can they rekindle 

their love and solve the mystery 

which once drove them apart?

STONE JUSTICE

 The true story of the only woman 

ever electrocuted in the electric chair 

in Louisiana, Annie McQuiston 

better known as Toni Jo Henry.

 

SKOOKUM:THE HUNT FOR BIGFOOT 

The book based on the movie of the same name 

which was filmed in the beautiful Caddo Lake 

area of North Louisiana, it is a different look 

at Bigfoot, but could it be the right one?

About Evelyn Morgan: 

     Writing under the names Lyn Lawrence and Evelyn Morgan, she is a multi-published author, co-author, and screenwriter.
     Evelyn was born in Lake Arthur, a small town in the southwest corner of Louisiana where she spent her childhood. She now lives in the northwest corner of the same state.
     Evelyn is a Romance Writers of America member and a member of the RWA chapter, NOLA Stars. With two books in print and one script in post-production, she is currently working on three more scripts. She and her co-author will republish STONE JUSTICE, with new information and photographs and documents soon.
     A movie, titled THE PARDON, based on the same true story recounted in their book STONE JUSTICE, premiered July 23, 2010, at Stony Brook Film Festival on Long Island, NY. Their original script, though not used in filming the movie, will be included in the new edition of STONE JUSTICE.

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Tuesday Special: Kilts and Catnip

ZOE TASIA

http://zoetasia.com/

Magical danger lurks in the forest.

But Greg Gillie, a handsome Scot with a mysterious past, protects the Shrouded Isle and the lands beyond from the mischievous, dangerous fae.

A woman arrives disturbing the wee folk.

Greg’s task becomes harder when American widow, Becca Shaw and her two daughters vacation there. As each day passes, more fae steal away from the forest hill and menace the people in the village, Thistle.

Can this exodus be stopped? 

As Becca encounters an array of magical creatures, she strives to repair her relationship with her two still-grieving girls and befriend the suspicious villagers. Greg and Becca must work together to solve the mystery of why the fae are escaping and discover how to prevent it while they struggle with their blossoming feelings for one another.

For their sake and the sake of the world, let’s hope they’re up to the task.

Kilts and Catnip, the first book in a new fantasy series, is filled with sweet romance, delightful humor, and exciting adventure.

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An unexpected encounter at the village grocery…

The door flew open with a bang. Two wolves burst from the basement, tumbling over each other in their haste to get out. The smallest jumped on top of the counter. The larger one slinked out from behind it. That wolf, all black except its gray legs and muzzle, bared its teeth. The wolves were huge. Even the small brindled one looked like it outweighed me. I glanced back. Kay and Tate had reached the exit and waited for us. I froze, inanely torn between leaving money on the counter, maybe a note, or just leaving.

“Becca, Jessie. Come now!”

The panic in Kay’s voice and Jess’s tug on my arm decided me. The hackles raised on both animals, making them appear even larger. The smaller one sniffed the air then howled. He leapt to the floor, putting him mere feet away from Jess and me. Jessie gasped as I pushed her behind me.

“Back out slowly,” I whispered as I tried to remember what you were supposed to do around a wild dog.

My mind went blank. I wanted to run, but I didn’t want my back exposed to them. My eyes darted back and forth at the shelves, hoping to find a broom or something. As I crept back, my hand brushed the items on the shelves.

“Here, doggie, come here!” Jessie called.

I turned. Jessie had snuck to the next aisle and torn open a package of tuna. She waved it to get the wolf’s attention.

“Jessica! Get to the door!” I squeaked, managing not to yell. No freaking out the wolves, Becca.

I couldn’t see the large one, but said a quick prayer that it found the meat department. The smaller wolf sniffed and weaved around to the aisle where Jess stood. I backed more quickly and sidestepped to reach her just as the wolf did. Jess placed the package in the center of the aisle and backed away.

“Good doggie—you’re a good doggie. Tuna is way better than icky people,” Jessie crooned.

The wolf sniffed the fish and then lapped up some. Something bumped my hip. I wheeled around. The other wolf had flanked us. This time I couldn’t contain myself and shrieked. The wolves shied, their claws chattered on the tile as they scrambled back. I swallowed an eep.

“Go!” I shoved Jessie toward the door where Tate and Kay waited, Tate’s hands gesturing for us to come. I raced after Jess.

“We tried to get your attention, but we didn’t want to startle the wolf,” Kay said as she threw open the door.

The girls ran out. Kay and I fled seconds later. Just as I was pulling the door closed, the larger wolf leapt up, hitting it, and slammed it shut. The wolf rested its front paws on the wood and stared through the glass at us with intelligence showing in the dark eyes. Raising its head, it let out a spine-chilling howl.


###

As a child, Zoe Tasia idolized Barbara Eden, star of I Dream of Jeannie. However, she would have ditched the astronaut and married Captain Kirk. She can't blink and make magic nor did she wed a Starfleet officer. Instead, life had something better in store for her. She explores her imagination as a writer, is married to an understanding Greek, has two grown sons, and a crazy cat that thinks it's a dog. Zoe grew up in Oklahoma and lived over seven years in Scotland. Now she resides in the great state of Texas, where everything's bigger and better, or so she's told by the natives. When she's not giving her make-believe friends full rein, she enjoys the opera, ballet, well-chilled champagne and books, lots and lots of books. Her fantasy series, The Shrouded Isle, begins with Kilts and Catnip.

Zoe Tasia also co-writes books with Minette Lauren under the pen name Zari Reede.
Daisy Dukes 'n Cowboy Boots, a funny romance
Blinked, a zany fantasy
Sins of the Sister, a psychological thriller

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Monday Morsels: Someone Special

SOMEONE SPECIAL

by Teresa Roman

Chapter 1

Once I found Tracey, I planned on strangling her. How she’d talked me into coming to our department’s annual Christmas party, I had no idea. And now that I was ready to call it a night, she was nowhere to be found. I scanned the crowd of co-workers and their dates gathered in the private party room at Nightingale, a trendy bar in Los Angeles, looking for her.

No luck.

Knowing Tracey, she’d probably decided to ditch our group and mingle with the rest of the club-goers. She still hadn’t outgrown the party girl phase of her life, unlike me, who pretty much had left it behind after graduating from college. Not that I’d ever been crazy about nightclubs. I preferred staying home with a good book.

Only a curtain separated the private party room from the rest of the club. I pulled it back and stared at the thick throng of people gathered around the bar. Undaunted, I weaved my way through the dance floor, turning my head from side to side, hoping I’d spot Tracey sooner rather than later.

I headed toward the bar, thinking that if I didn’t find Tracey, I could at least console myself with another drink, even though I’d already had one too many. I was almost there when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see who it was.

Dr. Eric Kennedy, one of the emergency room doctors I worked with, leaned in, and because it was so loud in the club, shouted into my ear. “Hey, Dawn. What are you doing over here?”

“Looking for Tracey,” I shouted back. “Have you seen her?”

“Yeah. I think I saw her leaving with some guy a few minutes ago.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

He shook his head. “What’s the big deal?” he asked. “You know how Tracey is, she likes to have fun.”

“The big deal is she was my ride home.”

“Ouch,” Eric said, pinching his face into a pained expression for effect. “Maybe she’ll be back.”

I fished my phone out of my purse to see if I’d missed a text from her. Sure enough, I had.

Leaving early - can you get a ride from someone else?

Ugh. She’d left without even waiting for my reply.

“What’s wrong?” Eric asked.

“You were right.” I showed him my phone. “I have no idea how I’m going to get home now.”

He smiled that perfect smile of his and took my hand. “I can give you a ride. But not until you have a drink with me first . . . and then a dance.”

I shook my head. “I don’t dance.”

At least not in front of my co-workers, I didn’t. Which was the reason I didn’t want to go to the Christmas party in the first place. I liked keeping my personal life and my professional life separate. If I was going to get drunk and make a fool out of myself, it wouldn’t be around people I had to see at work every week. But Tracey went every year and begged me to go with her this time. Against my better judgement, I’d agreed.

We were both emergency room nurses, and the members of the medical group that staffed our ER had gotten together this year and decided they wanted to do something different. Instead of a sit-down dinner and drinks, they’d booked the private room at Nightingale for appetizers, drinks, and dancing. Tracey wasn’t about to turn down free alcohol at such a trendy place, or take no for an answer from me when she’d asked me to come, too.

Eric tugged on my hand, and I followed him reluctantly. Halfway across the dance floor, he turned around and shouted into my ear. “We can dance here. No one has to know.”

It was like he’d read my mind. He knew I didn’t really like my co-workers in my business. Although, even if he’d pulled me back into the party room I wouldn’t have refused if he truly insisted on a dance. Eric had that kind of power over me. Ever since I finished nursing school a few years back, I swore I wouldn’t get involved with any of the doctors I worked with—until Eric got hired last year. He was fresh out of his residency, sure of himself, full of energy, and handsome as hell. I’d always had a thing for tall men, and he towered over me by at least a foot. I loved the way his wavy dark hair contrasted with his cornflower blue eyes. But his looks weren’t the only reason I had a thing for him. I worked with plenty of doctors and a lot of them could be total jerks, but Eric never treated us nurses badly.

He rested his hands on my hips and the two of us swayed to the beat of the music.

“Did I tell you that you look amazing tonight?” he said.

“No.” I gave way to a goofy smile, but looked away quickly, hoping to hide it from him.

“Well, you do.”

We’d both only ever seen each other in hospital scrubs, and they weren’t exactly the most flattering attire. I wanted to make an impression tonight, which was why I’d made sure to wear something I knew would look good on me. I had on a cranberry-colored wrap dress with a deep V-neck that showed off my hourglass figure.

“You look nice, too,” I said, admiring how handsome he looked in something as simple as dark wash jeans and a black button-up shirt. Although with his perfectly chiseled body, he always looked good, even in hospital scrubs.

The song ended and I figured that meant our dancing had, too, but instead Eric pulled me closer to him. “Where do you think you’re going?”


Want to read more?

After Dawn Masters hooks up with her longtime crush at their department's holiday party, the last thing she expects is for him to dump her just days before Christmas. Devastated, Dawn swears off dating for good until hunky police officer Jude Morales convinces her to give him a chance.
 
He slowly coaxes her into trusting him, tearing down the wall she's built around her heart. But just as Dawn dares to hope she's found her someone special, Jude’s own issues, coupled with a serious injury in the line of duty, threaten her newfound happiness and leave her facing the possibility of yet another broken heart.

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📚  Find Teresa Roman here:
 
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Don’t bend; don’t water it down; don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.

- Franz Kafka

People Who Are Rich by Saralyn Richard

The Write Way Café welcomes Saralyn Richard, who explores grief and murder among the wealthiest in her book Murder in the One Percent.

“There are people who have money and people who are rich.” 

–Coco Chanel

How much money does it take to be in the wealthiest one percent? Globally, because of worldwide income inequality, one needs a net worth of $871,320 (Credit Suisse, 2018). In the United States, that figure jumps to a net worth of $10,374,030.10 (DQYDJ). Whatever your definition of “wealthy” is, you probably should include the word, “relative” into the concept. 

Like most people, I’ve always had a certain fascination with the rich and famous. Not all of the rich and famous. Just the ultra-rich and ultra-famous. When I was younger and more naive, I lumped all people with money into a single group, like people of a certain race, religion, or philosophical bent.
 
Later I realized all people with money didn’t necessarily consider themselves rich, and they also didn’t necessarily consider themselves happy. How much money did it take to be rich, to be happy? And what about the source of the money? Was it better to inherit it, marry into it, earn it, or acquire it by nefarious means, as long as one wasn’t caught?
 
Some years ago I attended a birthday party that was a weekend retreat at a country mansion in horse country. As I partook of the elaborate meals, the rich music, the refined atmosphere, I imagined what might happen if one of the party guests turned up dead. How would everyone behave, and which ones might be suspects?
 
How far would privilege and power go to protect a person from being investigated for murder? How would greed play with grief during a murder investigation?
 
I decided there was an intriguing story there, and that became the basis for Murder in the One Percent. The mystery pulls back the curtain on how the wealthy live, love, and treat one another.
 
Clothes, furs, jewelry, furnishings, artwork, horses, cars, private airplanes, and other material possessions serve as important details of the setting, as well as constant
reminders of just how far outside the norm these characters are.

It would take a perceptive detective to brush the dazzle from his eyes enough to investigate and solve a murder in this milieu. Especially when the suspects appear to close ranks on him, and even more especially when the former President of the United States applies pressure.
 
What happens when a billionaire dies? Is his funeral any grander? Are his mourners any louder? Is his absence felt any more because of his great wealth?
 
Whether you’re in, whether you aspire to, or whether you’re just plain curious about the top one percent, you’ll gain insights from Murder in the One Percent. I know I did.


Someone comes to the party with murder in his heart and poison in his pocket.

"When old friends gather for a weekend retreat at a country mansion, no one anticipates how their lives will be changed—or that one of them will turn up dead. Remote and serene, the Campbells’ horse farm is the perfect setting for a lavish party. The guests, members of the country’s elite wealthiest one percent, several of them politically connected as well, indulge in delights befitting their station—gourmet food, fine wines, Cuban cigars—but greed, lust, and jealousy insinuate themselves into the party.

Playboy and former Secretary of the Treasury, Preston Phillips, brings his new trophy wife to the party, unaware that his first love, the woman he jilted at the altar years ago, will be there, enchanting him once more with her timeless beauty. A snowstorm, an accident, and an illicit rendezvous later, the dynamics crackle with tension.

When Detective Oliver Parrott is charged with solving the untimely killing of one of America’s leading financial wizards, he realizes this will be the case to make—or break—his career.

Murder in the One Percent offers relatable characters, memorable moments, surprising twists, and humorous insights. Dive into the world of the one percent, and you’ll come up intrigued and thoroughly entertained.

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Black Opal print book (autographed)


Mystery and children’s book author, Saralyn Richard, is a writer who teaches on the side. Some of her poems and essays have won awards and contests from the time she was in high school. Her children’s picture book, Naughty Nana, has reached thousands of children worldwide.

Murder in the One Percent, ©2018 Black Opal Books, pulls back the curtain on the privileged and powerful rich. Set on a gentleman’s farm in Pennsylvania and in the tony areas of New York, the book shows what happens when someone comes to a party with murder in his heart and poison in his pocket.
 
A member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America, Saralyn has written the sequel to Murder in the One Percent. Entitled, A Palette for Love and Murder, it is due to be released early in 2020. Her website is www.saralynrichard.com. 

Tuesday Special: Rainbow Vintner

GEZA TETRALLYAY
www.gezatatrallyay.com

Morgan Kenworthy-a Berkeley student studying abroad and a guest of the de Carduzacs, family friends who have a chateau in St. Emilion in France-uncovers a coup against the government of France. Soon after she arrives, a bombing at the Brassault Aviation plant kills several ministers. The investigation, led by General Tolbert, the head of French in­telligence and friend of Joseph de Carduzac, points to jihad­ists. However, clues Morgan unearths about Joseph's past suggest that the two blew up the Greenpeace ship Rainbow Warrior in 1985 and committed other nefarious acts while serving President Mitterand. After another explosion, killing most of the cabinet, Tolbert announces that he is in charge. As General Tolbert suspects she knows about the plots, Morgan's life and the life of her lover, Alex, Joseph's stepson, are in danger. Morgan tries to leave Europe for the US but is thwarted, and Alex is captured by the general's thugs. Now the two must rely on their wits, and their friends, for survival until they can convince the French Government who the real criminals are...

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Born in Budapest, Hungary, Geza escaped with his family in 1956 during the Hungarian Revolution, immigrating to Canada the same year. He grew up in Toronto, attending the University of Toronto Schools, where he was School Captain. He graduated from Harvard University with a BA in Human Ecology in 1972 (after taking a break in his studies to work as a host in the Ontario Pavilion at Expo70 in Osaka, Japan). Geza was a Rhodes Scholar attending Oxford University and graduating with a BA/MA in Human Sciences in 1974; he completed his studies with a MSc in Economics from London School of Economics and Politics in 1975. Geza represented Canada as an epée fencer in the 1976 Olympic Games in Montreal. He has twelve books published to date -- five thrillers, three memoirs, three poetry collections and one children's picture storybook. His poetry and articles have been published in journals in Canada and the USA.

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Monday Morsels: The Light at the Tunnel's End

THE LIGHT AT THE TUNNEL'S END

by Patricia Antone

Pushing himself, he does one more set of repetitions. The weights are set light for strengthening rather than muscle building. Upon finishing, he shifts to sit up on the bench. Tired from another sleepless night, he sighs.

The taunting memories wake him coated in a terror laced sweat. In the haze of his dreams, he hears the shouts of warning too late.

He stares frozen with nowhere to go when the swinging girder comes for him three stories off the ground. All he remembers is the pain when it collides with him. His clipboard and hat falling in time with his echoing cry of pain.

Men’s screams drift to him. The grip of the first man to reach him where he dangles precariously is painful in his desperation to keep Jan from falling to his death. 

~ ~ ~

“I got you. I got you,” Will tells him while shouting, “Hurry the hell up! I won’t let go.” It is a promise he hopes he can keep. “I got you,” Will repeats trying to keep Jan conscious by talking to him.

The second man joining them, a new hire Will barely knows, helps to drag him more on the girder, then tries to control the bleeding. Shifting to a more stable position, he removes his belt to use as a tourniquet.

“It’s gonna hurt,” he apologizes. “I gotta do it.”

Will tightens his grip. “Do it. He’s going to bleed to death.”

“Here, tie him down.” He removes his safety harness. “If he passes out, we could all fall.”

Will keeps one hand gripping Jan, as the other guy helps him to wrap the harness around and tie it off.

“Done. Hurry up.”

Jan remembers the feel of the leather biting into his thigh, the pain nearly making him pass out. His eyes roll back as the darkness closes in to escape it.

“No, Jan!” Will shouts. “Look at me. Don’t let go.”

“Hang on,” the other voice says seeming far away. “I can see flashing lights. Help is almost here. Hang on.”

It seems forever before a hook and ladder truck from fire rescue tears in to get him down, so they can race him to a hospital. 

~ ~ ~

Jan shakes away the memories. Bits and pieces of the whole accident still flash in and out in a haze of pain and panic. Many details are still not clear. No issue, he remembers more than enough, thanks.

Leaning to put his elbow on his right knee in habit, he nearly topples off the bench. A rude reminder that the accident cost him most of his right leg.

After nearly a month in the hospital, he is recovered enough to begin physical therapy. Once he rebuilds some lost strength and his stump heals, he will be fitted with a prosthetic leg. He refers to it as his newly acquired ‘peg leg’.

Maybe it was watching those Pirates of The Caribbean movies while recovering, but it helps him to deal with it. Not that he has a choice in the matter.

Looking around absently he sees his physical therapist (PT) guy, Kenneth, talking to a girl sitting on a bench. Recognizing her as one of Kenneth’s regulars, today he notices she hasn’t cried.

“That’s new,” he comments to himself.

An older woman usually bringing her, a loud fight usually starting up when the younger one tries to assert herself. The older one leaves mad as all hell after insulting the younger one. Instead of PT, she sits in an office Kenneth takes her to calm down. Once there she sits and cries for the entire slot she is scheduled.

Jan also knows, Kenneth drives her home sometimes. That happens on the days she shows up by cab. The cab driver who escorts her scolding her the whole way. Then he insists Kenneth call and ask dispatch for him if she needs a ride home.

He finds it odd Kenneth is real protective of her. He seems to be trying to be her friend. Then again, it looks as if she doesn’t have any. It is hard enough to ask for help. But to need it and have no choice in the matter? It is extremely shattering to one’s self-esteem.

“Time to make the donuts,” Jan mutters laying down and getting back to his exercises. Getting that new leg ASAP is his number one goal.

Unbeknown to him, Kenneth is giving the girl on the bench, who is one of his most concerning patients, the riot act.

“If you do not make it look like you are trying they will put you in a facility,” he snaps testily. “Don’t you care?”

“Blind people live on their own every day. I want to be left alone,” she answers.

Kenneth has a newsflash. “Your mother is convinced you are a danger to yourself. I get copies of your doctor’s reports. FYI, I read them, so I can help you.”

When she doesn’t answer that he takes another shot.

“I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself. You’re being labeled as an emotional grenade. That is an issue if you want to live independently.”

The feel of his hand closing around hers is a surprise, yet she doesn’t move.

“I want you safe, Lucy. Even if it is a facility of your family’s choosing. The question of whether you want it or not will not matter,” he warns.

“They can’t put me where I don’t want to be,” she argues, hoping she sounds convincing.

“Let’s hope,” Kenneth says to that. He keeps going even though he is batting a big fat zero. “Did you eat today? You’re still too thin,” he remarks. “Make sure you are eating. At least one meal a day?”

When she doesn’t answer, he sighs in frustration, giving up for now.

“If you need me call.” With the release of her hand, she listens to his footsteps fade.

She sighs. As she has no appetite, she barely she chokes down what food she does eat. The lecturing has it seem like he cares. Maybe it is not good for his references to include patients he failed?

###

Waking up was just the beginning ....... 

The moment of the cars colliding throws Lucy Cuse screaming into darkness. Now she just wants to be left alone. The accident took everything from her. 

It took her job and her sight., but most of all, it took her independence. A move to an ‘assisted living’ facility for ‘her safety’ is out of the question. Lucy is not going anywhere she doesn’t want to. No one is making her! 

Multiple times per week she goes to physical therapy sessions. She hates it but if she goes and does ‘just enough’, it keeps the well-meaning at bay. 

Jan, who is recovering from his own horrifying accident three stories up, has been watching Lucy for weeks. She tugs at him, and he can’t explain why. When he is asked to “lend a hand” to motivate her, he reluctantly agrees. The blind leading the cripple? There is joke in there he is sure. 

Lucy is struck dumb by Jan’s offering of friendship. He lets her cry and scream, while he doesn’t tell her she is wrong to feel the way she does. In a way, he has walked a mile in her shoes. Even if it is on crutches. 


Lucy takes his offer of friendship and slowly discovers she is still a woman. Jan in turn finds himself falling for the beautiful, yet stubborn woman who truly believes she will get her sight back. 

When hearts get involved the rules change. Each want what they want, but is the light at the tunnel’s end that train each of them has already encountered? Or will they find their way out of the tunnel and into the light that awaits them, together?

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📚  Find Patricia Antone here:      Facebook          Authorsite