tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20569041258011090052024-03-05T00:22:05.162-05:00Karen CinoKaren Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.comBlogger195125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-62092203187061407272019-12-19T12:37:00.000-05:002019-12-19T12:37:58.955-05:00The 12 Days of Christmas <div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsI1KuRtEEUdCiSTRFbTCmzzava9TkQotLirLxhLyHloOxRvrogvNK8iJMXg_AvI0hCymYoef8Udk_7bhJTRx7OIgUdeKg6BnFSMoZuJ-zxr7xzoYfWlKo1B_YEMHKZXALFyBDPEur2Tk/s1600/Christmas+Beach5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="188" data-original-width="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsI1KuRtEEUdCiSTRFbTCmzzava9TkQotLirLxhLyHloOxRvrogvNK8iJMXg_AvI0hCymYoef8Udk_7bhJTRx7OIgUdeKg6BnFSMoZuJ-zxr7xzoYfWlKo1B_YEMHKZXALFyBDPEur2Tk/s1600/Christmas+Beach5.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRvcp-AonJzCmuForDUgANjmrgFod49Hhd0GBxpVbk3VbaTze5BqDD6ZdKJMBiMICUH7U2FaVq4QMlF8b47nJJtWLL-g7sJ6amhRPOXEpFfRvW5e-Wf4vup59dbVyzzBpG0SxqeT-Rjns/s1600/IMG_2526.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="769" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRvcp-AonJzCmuForDUgANjmrgFod49Hhd0GBxpVbk3VbaTze5BqDD6ZdKJMBiMICUH7U2FaVq4QMlF8b47nJJtWLL-g7sJ6amhRPOXEpFfRvW5e-Wf4vup59dbVyzzBpG0SxqeT-Rjns/s320/IMG_2526.jpg" width="153" /></a><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="color: red;">With the holiday season upon us,
it is our time to reflect on the year gone by and start getting together a list
of resolutions for the New Year. This is one of my comic relief poems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I refer to it as my quick pick-me-upper
when my muse comes to a halt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
is my version of The Twelve Days of Christmas.<br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;">On the twelfth day of Christmas, my friends gave to me:</span></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Twelve hours of nonstop writing,</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Eleven great plots ideas with a
twist,</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Ten true to life characters,</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Nine boxes of tissues,</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Eight books on writing,</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Seven sites on marketing,</span></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUTAsQU_Qd5AVa-vIvusr4RwaaJvMNA7jIfWtFV6ZyoEfl4bm5rFMk1p0HCzO23vVSjWOclV_UPtalZZXsP5axwyBWTCVIRqd5_e091YVp2T15MmGE_4c6pQd8TunQXwzQ3e076XedHs/s1600/IMG_2527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUTAsQU_Qd5AVa-vIvusr4RwaaJvMNA7jIfWtFV6ZyoEfl4bm5rFMk1p0HCzO23vVSjWOclV_UPtalZZXsP5axwyBWTCVIRqd5_e091YVp2T15MmGE_4c6pQd8TunQXwzQ3e076XedHs/s320/IMG_2527.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Six unique promo tips,</span></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Five colored highlighters,</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Four packages of post it notes,</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Three colorful loose-leaf binders,</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Two boxes of colorful paperclips,</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">And a bottle of Procesecco to
stimulate my mind.</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">To all my writer friends and
readers I’d like to wish you all a happy and healthy holiday season full of
love and happiness! I'm sharing with you my Christmas tree and decorations.</span></b></span><br />
<span style="color: red;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;"> </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: "verdana";"><b>If you stop by and leave a comment, you will be put in a drawing to receive an ebook of my Cookie Cutter Cozy Mystery Series. All you need to do is tell me your favorite Christmas/Holiday treat and/or what you want Santa to bring! Good luck!</b></span></span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">VISIT MY WEBSITE HERE.</a><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B079VSFWQW?ref_=dbs_r_series&storeType=ebooks" target="_blank">AVAILABLE AT AMAZON. CLICK HERE</a></div>
Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-58784397815427793132019-07-06T11:44:00.000-04:002019-07-09T11:03:59.948-04:00Book Hooks - The Right Call - #MFRWHooks, #MFRWAuthor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXygtx7YBqb119rDHfGG0c0tDLiNjeVBh0wy3ve_w-nY-2GNIc9s70Nm-DGjDpyYsXecAKOfYgK6CrSkn0Cqhh_TVDnNGyuslpYcNCWFtEu5tCcyw8-UORabGJGsOPbR1Rqt9HwkRbiY/s1600/mfrw-book-hooks400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXygtx7YBqb119rDHfGG0c0tDLiNjeVBh0wy3ve_w-nY-2GNIc9s70Nm-DGjDpyYsXecAKOfYgK6CrSkn0Cqhh_TVDnNGyuslpYcNCWFtEu5tCcyw8-UORabGJGsOPbR1Rqt9HwkRbiY/s320/mfrw-book-hooks400.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Book
Hooks</span> is a weekly meme hosted by <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Marketing
for Romance Writers</span> as part of the MFRW Authors Blog. It's a chance each
week for you the reader to discover current WIP or previously published book by
possibly new to you authors.</b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXyRzrCxXDMcEMGJgN9rkHLau1mDwlwKASKds8KXEHSFSu43CVmOFVL15tyNd8m7M-XqGN2Rcs59H_mmvMInwgF2VpWZCpzEdfONH0tqDPCuCR0B1Ris9yx92e0vAmUhDlEX4UOu9RzU/s1600/The+Right+Call.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="323" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXyRzrCxXDMcEMGJgN9rkHLau1mDwlwKASKds8KXEHSFSu43CVmOFVL15tyNd8m7M-XqGN2Rcs59H_mmvMInwgF2VpWZCpzEdfONH0tqDPCuCR0B1Ris9yx92e0vAmUhDlEX4UOu9RzU/s320/The+Right+Call.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>The Right Call is Book 3 in the Mystical Wonders Series</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B019D8DX9Y/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i10" target="_blank">Available for $2.99 Amazon Kindle and $10 Paperback</a></b></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><u>BLURB</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>To deal with her onset of early Alzheimer, Fay Odina takes a trip to
Italy to spend time with her family, leaving her daughter Heather in
charge of the family business. Madison and Dino Pinzini are dealing with
the complications of Dino’s heart attack, which puts their relationship
to the test. Meantime, as Cassie Scott deals with trust and commitment
issues, she meets New York City Police Detective Antonio Palencia.
Cassie’s cousin, Sophia returns to Staten Island. Sophia is involved in a
dead end relationship with a secret past hidden in a box full of
letters. The women begin receiving puzzle pieces of them in the mail,
which could result in disaster. All they have to go on is Shari’s vision
that shows long shiny purple fingernails. When Antonio receives a tip,
he and Cassie have to race against time to solve the mystery.</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><u>EXCERPT</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">She tapped her long, shiny, deep purple
nails out in a rhythm on the glass table. Who would be her next victim? Opening
her small, black leather case, she looked down the list. Madison and Shari both
had red checks next to their names. Next on the list, Cassie. Oh yes, she had
big plans for her too. These bitches had ruined her life. They had been warned
throughout the years to mind their own goddamn business. But that was something
they all had a problem with.</span></b></span></div>
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</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Looking down at her finger, she noticed a
chip on her right middle finger. “Damn. These bitches are ruining my freshly
polished manicure too.” Picking up the bottle of nail polish, she proceeded to touch
up her finger. “There.” She held her finger out and grinned. “This game is
proceeding beautifully.”</span></b></span></div>
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</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">How she wished she could have seen their
faces when they saw the contents of the envelopes. Oh yes, they had to be
flipping out by now, especially that whore Madison.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Standing, she walked to the window and
pushed the curtains open. She had the perfect view, overlooking the east shore
of Staten Island. The Verrazano Bridge looked awesome at night all lit up.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>“Time to pick the pictures to include in
Cassie’s package. Cassie and her investigative bullshit. Hmm, let me see.” She
looked at the two dozen pictures, trying to figure out an original way to
display them. A special way that would make Cassie flip out when she sees the
pict</b><b>ures of her beloved boyfriend cheating on her with a woman old enough to be
his mother.</b></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“Let me see.” Sitting back in her chair,
she crossed her long slender legs and lit a cigarette. Instead of sending the
pictures, she would put them into a movie, just like the original cartoons from
the early ‘60s. “Oh yeah. That’s it. That would get right under her skin.”</span></b></span></div>
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</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Walking over to the computer, she felt a
warmness come over her. She got so excited about this new project that she had
turned herself on. Today, she wouldn’t need to look at the picture of a naked
cowboy dressed only in cowboy boots and hat, accompanied by his big , thick
cock. Opening the buttons on her shirt, she lifted her plump breasts out of her
bra, resting them on top so they stood firm. The moment she pinched her
nipples, she felt hot liquid drip into her silk thong. She had this down to a
science. Her breasts were big enough, so she could lick and stimulate them
herself.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Throwing her head back, she moaned when
she reached down her pants. Revenge had a strange </b><b>way of working for her. Not
only would she get even with those bitches, but now she had to satisfy herself
in a way no man could.</b></span></span></div>
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<b>
<u><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: red;">KAREN'S SOCIAL MEDIA</span><span style="background-color: white;"></span> </span></span></u></b></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">Website</a><br />
<a href="http://karencinobooks.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/karencino" target="_blank">Twitter</a><br />
<a href="http://www.facebook.com/karencino" target="_blank">Facebook</a><br /><a href="https://www.facebook.com/Karen-Cino-296585170371401/" target="_blank">Facebook Author Page</a></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4444484.Karen_Cino" target="_blank">Goodreads</a><br /><a href="http://us8.campaign-archive1.com/home/?u=372e9cad72e3faf1c0a8b9a4e&id=9ac84ba873" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B008LCG31Y" target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a></span></b></span></div>
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<!-- start LinkyTools script --><script src="https://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=292180" type="text/javascript"></script><!-- end LinkyTools script -->Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-72714804890902551412019-06-29T14:11:00.000-04:002019-07-02T17:16:29.258-04:00Book Hooks - Second Chances - #MFRWHooks, #MFRWAuthor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXygtx7YBqb119rDHfGG0c0tDLiNjeVBh0wy3ve_w-nY-2GNIc9s70Nm-DGjDpyYsXecAKOfYgK6CrSkn0Cqhh_TVDnNGyuslpYcNCWFtEu5tCcyw8-UORabGJGsOPbR1Rqt9HwkRbiY/s1600/mfrw-book-hooks400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXygtx7YBqb119rDHfGG0c0tDLiNjeVBh0wy3ve_w-nY-2GNIc9s70Nm-DGjDpyYsXecAKOfYgK6CrSkn0Cqhh_TVDnNGyuslpYcNCWFtEu5tCcyw8-UORabGJGsOPbR1Rqt9HwkRbiY/s320/mfrw-book-hooks400.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Book
Hooks</span> is a weekly meme hosted by <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Marketing
for Romance Writers</span> as part of the MFRW Authors Blog. It's a chance each
week for you the reader to discover current WIP or previously published book by
possibly new to you authors.</b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHxqLnf3oZzjM_MZlwTiC6wm8hODXoPpqmk4Cowfb-k7zyveIAGdUfpFl8WWxOe-3D4LjZ6z2_4hW1_C1qNIkOhL_Ag7FO0QtlOSQjbUdoZmKy2WBF51-jAKYqlAqkfHhrxzLCWABw-4/s1600/second+Changes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="160" data-original-width="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHxqLnf3oZzjM_MZlwTiC6wm8hODXoPpqmk4Cowfb-k7zyveIAGdUfpFl8WWxOe-3D4LjZ6z2_4hW1_C1qNIkOhL_Ag7FO0QtlOSQjbUdoZmKy2WBF51-jAKYqlAqkfHhrxzLCWABw-4/s1600/second+Changes.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Second Chances is Book 2 in the Mystical Wonders Series</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Second-Chances-Mystical-Wonders-Book-ebook/dp/B0197D6TGY/ref=sr_1_18?keywords=karen+cino&qid=1561825801&s=gateway&sr=8-18" target="_blank">Available for $2.99 Amazon Kindle and $10 Paperback</a> </b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><u><b>BLURB</b></u></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Madison, Shari and Cassie play a major role in protecting Fay, while
digging into Angelo’s past. Shari still can’t channel into Angelo’s
mind, leading the women to believe he has something to hide. A reunion
with an old love puts Madison’s relationship with Sal to the test,
causing her to reevaluate her life. While family secrets continue to be
exposed, Cassie’s life spirals out of control. Both women will be forced
to make life changing decisions. Having gained Fay’s trust, Angelo is
ready to move forward with his plan no matter what the consequences.
Cassie seeks Shari’s help on a case. While they uncover pieces of the
puzzle, they get closer to the truth about Angelo’s past. Madison, Shari
and Cassie come together, racing against time, to save Fay from a
disastrous fate. Four friends, four lives intertwined together, setting
the stage for second chances.</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><u>EXCERPT</u></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"> <span style="background-color: white;"><span></span></span></span></b>
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<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Angelo pulled his truck into a
narrow driveway and parked around the back of an abandoned building. He rushed
through his route to have extra time to spend with Tina, who hadn’t arrived
yet.</span></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The past few months had been pure
hell on him. This game had turned boring. The worst part was that he had to
pacify both Fay and Tina now. They would do anything he asked. He had both of
them at his disposal. Sometimes it was sick how they ran around for him. But
with them surrounding him, he felt like the king of his castle. He could do no
wrong in their eyes. They jumped to his every command.</span></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="background-color: white;">“Ha! Angelo my boy, you still have
all the charm and physique,” he said into his rearview mirror. “You treat them
like whores, wine and dine them once in a while and they’re eating out of your
hand.” Angelo chuckled.</span></span></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><b><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Fay and Tina were the easiest of
all. They both fell hard for him. He patted his crotc</span></span><span style="background-color: white;">h. <span style="color: #0b5394;">“Johnson m</span></span><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: white;">y man, God
blessed me with the biggest pecker of all. Man, were they right in saying women
cared more about the size than the quality. The bigger the pecker, </span>the better
the penetration.” Angelo laughed hysterically. This was so cool. He would never
again work a single day in his life when he finished with all of them. They
were stupid broads, with Tina being the biggest slut of them. As long as he
gave her sex once a week, she left him alone. Now with her at Fay’s shop, he
would have total access to Fay’s financial situation before he took action.</span></b></span></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">He’d been searching for something he
just couldn’t find. Every time Fay left the house, he would riffle through all
her things looking for something, anything which would give him the bigger
picture of her finances.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The last time Fay and Heather went
on one of their mother-daughter adventures, he combed every drawer in her
bedroom. He pulled them out in hope that maybe she taped a key or envelope
under the drawer, each time coming up empty. Every time she went out, he took
another room. He even went as far and checking inside all three toilets in the
house, to no avail.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Why did she have a separate account
for the business? He couldn’t understand that. Fay insisted she didn’t want to
mix their personal and business accounts together because this made paying the
quarterly taxes easier. What he didn’t like was those bank statements went
directly to her computer so he had no access to them. He just had a feeling she
was hiding something. And he’d be damned if he didn’t find out if his
suspicions were true or false.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">It was a shame his ex-wife died for
no reason at all. He wasn’t smart back then. He should have searched harder for
her will when she was by her whore sister’s house with her sick kid. If he
would have known she left all her money to her sister for medical expenses, he
would have just left her and started over. Instead, he had to cover up a
murder, which he did perfectly. Damn accidents did happen.</span></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b>
<u><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: red;">KAREN'S SOCIAL MEDIA</span><span style="background-color: white;"></span> </span></span></u></b></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">Website</a><br />
<a href="http://karencinobooks.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/karencino" target="_blank">Twitter</a><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4444484.Karen_Cino" target="_blank">Goodreads</a><br /><a href="http://us8.campaign-archive1.com/home/?u=372e9cad72e3faf1c0a8b9a4e&id=9ac84ba873" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B008LCG31Y" target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a></span></b></span></div>
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Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-88072030818298341112019-06-23T15:37:00.000-04:002019-06-25T11:34:19.980-04:00Book Hooks - A Different Kind of Perfect - #MFRWHooks, #MFRWAuthor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXygtx7YBqb119rDHfGG0c0tDLiNjeVBh0wy3ve_w-nY-2GNIc9s70Nm-DGjDpyYsXecAKOfYgK6CrSkn0Cqhh_TVDnNGyuslpYcNCWFtEu5tCcyw8-UORabGJGsOPbR1Rqt9HwkRbiY/s1600/mfrw-book-hooks400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXygtx7YBqb119rDHfGG0c0tDLiNjeVBh0wy3ve_w-nY-2GNIc9s70Nm-DGjDpyYsXecAKOfYgK6CrSkn0Cqhh_TVDnNGyuslpYcNCWFtEu5tCcyw8-UORabGJGsOPbR1Rqt9HwkRbiY/s320/mfrw-book-hooks400.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Book
Hooks</span> is a weekly meme hosted by <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Marketing
for Romance Writers</span> as part of the MFRW Authors Blog. It's a chance each
week for you the reader to discover current WIP or previously published book by
possibly new to you authors.</b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG-icFMVs0v7Dov4tRm1tEsYMWby5glGq0dcCNuvW6fyHTMDkSZBvb1GP_opI8n6wJRuLEE1dMuM2NWKArLw9SygJ8wHhLL62fQ-wVwMqO1rOAQxT31ZRPYP3qCrXLt8csvFF2ltbO0e8/s1600/A+diffent+kind+of+perfect2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="324" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG-icFMVs0v7Dov4tRm1tEsYMWby5glGq0dcCNuvW6fyHTMDkSZBvb1GP_opI8n6wJRuLEE1dMuM2NWKArLw9SygJ8wHhLL62fQ-wVwMqO1rOAQxT31ZRPYP3qCrXLt8csvFF2ltbO0e8/s320/A+diffent+kind+of+perfect2.jpg" width="207" /><span style="background-color: white;"></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><span style="background-color: #0b5394;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">A Different Kind of Perfect Book 2 in the Seaside Boulevard Series</span></span></span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><span style="background-color: #0b5394;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Different-Kind-Perfect-Seaside-Boulevard-ebook/dp/B077LZDB54/ref=sr_1_24?keywords=karen+cino&qid=1561248734&s=gateway&sr=8-24" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Available for Amazon Kindle for $4.99 - Paperback $12.99</span></span></span></a><u><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: white;"> <span style="color: #cc0000;">(Click Here)</span> </span></span></u></span></span></b><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="background-color: #0b5394;"><u><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: white;">BLURB</span></span></u></span></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #073763;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>It is the grand opening of The Perfect Pitch. All the pieces fall into
place until Francine's diagnosis of breast cancer, throwing their lives
upside down. While Amy and Jason deal with the reaction from her family
to their interracial relationship, Toni finds herself in another
overbearing relationship with Pelicans third baseman Gary Thompson.<br />In
the mist of taking care of Francine and working at The Perfect Pitch,
Richie gets a call from the owner of the Pelicans. He is offered a job
as pitching coach for the team. Richie accepts the job, putting a huge
strain on his marriage which affects all of them.</b></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #073763;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><u>EXCERPT</u></b></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #073763;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><u>
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<span style="color: #073763;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Amy knocked on the door
before walking in. “Mom, Dad, we’re here.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #073763;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #073763;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> “I’m in the kitchen. Come on in.” Amy closed and locked the
front door. Taking Jason’s</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #073763;"><b>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">hand, she led him into the
kitchen. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Hi, Mom.” She walked over
and gave her a peck on the cheek. “This is Jason.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Nancy’s mouth dropped open
and the wooden spoon fell out of her hand. After a couple of brief
uncomfortable moments, her mother rolled her eyes. “Nice to meet you, Jake.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “His name is Jason, Mom.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “I’m sorry, Jason.” “</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Nice to meet you, Mrs.
Mills.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Al, where are you?” she
called out in a high-pitched voice. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “I’m coming. You made me go
upstairs and shave or else I’d be sitting in my chair watching TV.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Silence filled the room.
Amy looked from her mother to Jason. Jason had a blank look on his face and her
mother a look of disappointment. The sound of her father coming down the stairs
made Amy tenser as she shuffled from one foot to the other. Her father meeting
Jason would just finish off the night. He was always the one who talked
negatively about black people, saying he hated them. If things didn’t work out,
she would get Jason out of there quick.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Amy.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Amy turned around and
walked over to kiss her father hello. “Dad, this is Jason Maddock.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“<i>The </i>Jason Maddock?”
he asked, walking over to shake his hand.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Yes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Oh my God, this is
awesome. My daughter is dating Jason Maddock the football player. Damn, it
can’t get any better than this. I love the Rockets. I’ve been watching them
since I was a kid. I am so happy to meet you. Would you like something to
drink? A beer or wine? There’s a football game on now.” He chuckled. “My wife
made me turn it off, saying that it was inappropriate for me to be watching
football when we have a guest.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Albert. Are you blind?” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “No. What are you talking
about, Nancy?” </span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Jason is our daughter’s
boyfriend.” “Yes, I know. Isn’t that awesome? He won the game for the Rockets
last weekend to get them into the last game of the playoffs before the Super
Bowl.”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “I don’t know anything
about sports, nor do I want to.” Nancy put her hands on her hips. “Our daughter
is dating a black man.”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “He’s not black, Nancy.
He’s Jason Maddock. I have his team jersey.”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “I can’t believe what is
going on here. How can you be blinded with—”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Al put his arm around
Jason. “Come on, let’s go into the living room and talk sports. You have to
excuse Nancy. She has a one-track mind, still living in the nineteen-forties.”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Jason and her dad went into
the living room. She heard her father talking about the game from the week
before. From what she could hear, it sounded like her father and Jason were
getting along. And to think she was worried that her father would throw him
out.</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Can you give me a hand
here instead of glaring into space?”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Yes, Mom. What can I do to
help?”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Can you toss the salad and
place it onto the dining room table?”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Sure mom.”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “So what’s going on with
this Jason man? He’s black,” she whispered.</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “I know, Mom. But when I
look at him, I don’t see color.”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Then what do you see?
Because I see something different.”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Amy tossed the salad and
tasted a piece of lettuce. “Needs more salt.”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Add a little. Your father
is supposed to be watching his sodium intake. But from what I see, your father
has lost his mind accepting a black man into our home. What are the neighbors going
to say?”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Is that what you’re
worried about—the neighbors?”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Of course I am. This is a
white neighborhood. I don’t want to hear people talking about how desperate you
were for a man that you had to reach out for one from another race.”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “You are out of your mind.
Instead of you being happy that I’m happy and I found someone who loves me as
much as I love him, you are throwing me the race card.”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Do you realize what kind
of life you are entering? We did the best we could do for you. The last thing I
expect is to find you standing in line trying to get food stamps.”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “You really have lost your
mind. Jason is a football player making a lot of money. But this isn’t about
money.”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “I’m sure it isn’t going to
be enough to take care of you.”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “Mom, he is making over ten
million dollars. He lives in a mansion on Todt Hill. He has all his own things.
He doesn’t need anything of mine to survive. And besides, Dad seems to be
getting along very well with Jason.”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “I am totally surprised at
your father accepting this kind of behavior from you.”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “I’m bringing the salad
inside. Please, do not embarrass him during dinner. Can you promise me that?”</span></div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> “I’ll do my best, but I can’t make you any
promises.”</span></div>
<u></u></b><u><b><span style="background-color: white;"></span></b></u></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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<b>
<u><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: red;">KAREN'S SOCIAL MEDIA</span><span style="background-color: white;"></span> </span></span></u></b></div>
<b><u><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></u></b>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 346.5pt;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">Website</a><br />
<a href="http://karencinobooks.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/karencino" target="_blank">Twitter</a><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 346.5pt;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4444484.Karen_Cino" target="_blank">Goodreads</a><br /><a href="http://us8.campaign-archive1.com/home/?u=372e9cad72e3faf1c0a8b9a4e&id=9ac84ba873" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B008LCG31Y" target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a></span></b></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<!-- start LinkyTools script --><script src="https://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=292178" type="text/javascript"></script><!-- end LinkyTools script -->Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-57310295183870553192019-06-15T12:02:00.001-04:002019-06-18T11:15:07.563-04:00Book Hooks - Circle of Friends #MFRWHooks, #MFRWAuthor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDiZpF1y686SESzG1zbw4fXSotBTU0XZuJa8kXfdan1GbXnmQ8RsF2wUkRDIWyw-yjwuP3c4A7iXDjZ9-_WOk0X6Ymhu6u_VBZA1o6NfjXlAp2Xvue6z89D2N_OAwfPf0KsbOLlWdHXI/s1600/mfrw-book-hooks400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDiZpF1y686SESzG1zbw4fXSotBTU0XZuJa8kXfdan1GbXnmQ8RsF2wUkRDIWyw-yjwuP3c4A7iXDjZ9-_WOk0X6Ymhu6u_VBZA1o6NfjXlAp2Xvue6z89D2N_OAwfPf0KsbOLlWdHXI/s320/mfrw-book-hooks400.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Book
Hooks</span> is a weekly meme hosted by <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Marketing
for Romance Writers</span> as part of the MFRW Authors Blog. It's a chance each
week for you the reader to discover current WIP or previously published book by
possibly new to you authors.</b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheb0IEBQiPK7lYCvfYf1TKkjfd2S1Kj3eFc0bgyChQqHO7D2ZorooUGE2gQeMtRrVQpcx46J4xSGwbvzFiKWcIIXm1X-pxY3PwlEz7bPvy46VuBK9-bgGjPN0ZgSizzJl8-A9I8-XL_sU/s1600/Smash+Words+circle+of+Friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheb0IEBQiPK7lYCvfYf1TKkjfd2S1Kj3eFc0bgyChQqHO7D2ZorooUGE2gQeMtRrVQpcx46J4xSGwbvzFiKWcIIXm1X-pxY3PwlEz7bPvy46VuBK9-bgGjPN0ZgSizzJl8-A9I8-XL_sU/s320/Smash+Words+circle+of+Friends.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>This is book 1 in the Mystical Wonders Series!</b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Circle-Friends-Karen-Cino-ebook/dp/B0199BCKVM/ref=sr_1_13?crid=1ST0ICDD5JSBZ&keywords=karen+cino&qid=1560612108&s=digital-text&sprefix=karen+cino%2Caps%2C1512&sr=1-13" target="_blank"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>$2.99 on Amazon Kindle and $10.50 in Paperback </b></span></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><u>BLURB</u></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<b><span style="color: #674ea7;">Madison Morina, college professor, meets Sal at the college’s pep rally.
They hit it off, but Madison still has her doubts regarding their
relationship. Shari Stafford, a clairvoyant, hairdresser, finds love
when she hires a carpenter to do renovations on her house. She has a
special gift of reading minds. Private Investigator Cassie Scott has an
on and off relationship with Dennis. When family secrets are revealed,
her life is changed forever. Bad boy Angelo Esposito sweeps Fay Odina
off her feet. He has a dead wife and an ex-wife, along with a secret
past and an agenda. Angelo finds his perfect mark in Fay, who owns the
family Vintage Clothing Shop. Despite her friends’ warnings that she is
in imminent danger, she runs off and marries Angelo. It’s up to the
girls to juggle their own relationships and dig deeper into Angelo’s
past. Four friends, four lives intertwined together.</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #674ea7;"><u>EXCERPT</u></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="color: #674ea7;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<b><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> There wasn’t a lot of time
to waste so he drove directly to Fay’s store and parked his car around back. He
had everything set up from earlier when he brought her boxes down to the
basement right before she closed the store.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #674ea7;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Everything worked out
perfectly. He had outlined the whole day and pretty much stayed on the schedule
he’d made for himself. His personal satisfaction wasn’t on the list, but it
sure did feel good.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Angelo didn’t foresee any
problems. During his last trip to the basement, he made sure he distracted her
from checking the backdoor. Smooching, thoughts of an expensive dinner, and sex
had preoccupied her. He was relieved.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Angelo opened the basement
door, turned on his flashlight and grabbed the splintered banister. Earlier, he
hadn’t noticed that some of the stairs were warped, cracked,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">and one or two only had
half a step remaining. He didn’t need to fall down and have Fay come into work
the next day to find him lying on the bottom of the stairs with a broken leg
and a concussion.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Once he reached the bottom
step, he opened the door, thankful he remembered to leave on the light. This
way there was nothing out of the ordinary to cause anyone alarm. He went
directly to the file cabinet in the corner, opening and closing the drawers
looking for past bank statements or any other vital information.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> He removed the December
files, knowing these would be the final figures for the previous year. This was
easier than he thought. Finally, he had planned something out the right way and
it hadn’t cost him that much to woo her. Fay was so blinded by his charm, she
didn’t see him for the man he really was.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> The last two broads he was
married to had to be lavished with expensive gifts, Broadway plays and
vacations to the tropics. God forbid if there wasn’t diamonds in the piece of
jewelry he bought them. But that problem was easy to amend. He would take a
piece, sell it and buy something new. What made this little ploy pathetic was
his wives had so much jewelry they didn’t even realize when something went
missing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Fay was a whole different
story. She never asked for anything. So when he brought her the smallest of
gifts, she would make a big deal over it. She had turned into the perfect
score.</span></div>
</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b> ***</b></span><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span> <style><!--
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Angelo finished copying the
files and carefully placed them back where he retrieved them. Covering his
tracks was imperative. He started walking downstairs when he remembered the
papers in his pocket. Returning to her office, he made a quick copy of them.
Once he got back to her house, he would return the envelope. Sooner or later
she’d have to use the bathroom or he’d send her down for a snack.</span></b></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>
</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> Shutting the light off,
Angelo made his way down the stairs again. He put away the original file he had
taken from down in the basement, sliding the box that blocked the file cabinet
back in front of it.</span></b></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>
</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> These papers were going to
be the key to his future. It would be the deciding factor on what he wanted to
do about his so-called relationship with Fay. If she was worth the money he
suspected, then he would just have to fake his way through a loving
relationship while finding his restitution with his lover Tina.</span></b></span></span></div>
</div>
<br />
<br />
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<b>
<u><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: red;">KAREN'S SOCIAL MEDIA</span><span style="background-color: white;"></span> </span></span></u></b></div>
<b><u><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></u></b>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">Website</a><br />
<a href="http://karencinobooks.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/karencino" target="_blank">Twitter</a><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4444484.Karen_Cino" target="_blank">Goodreads</a><br /><a href="http://us8.campaign-archive1.com/home/?u=372e9cad72e3faf1c0a8b9a4e&id=9ac84ba873" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></span></b></span></div>
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Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-11375947525447783172019-06-08T11:58:00.001-04:002019-06-11T12:11:50.998-04:00Book Hooks - Another Side of Perfect - #HFRWHooks, MFRWAuthor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lKvkO9UHRGopJrEQU-m3JZgLy7eMEszqmqF564V3ZtoSWB77bjOq_LcwcbdT32y6A2zSpjicycIWRbyBzrVxEljYCPmj0WhNiEQzghwJqqA9KRvFVKicvUV5dVZCFDU5Af12Fj7Bdec/s1600/logo+book+hooks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="307" data-original-width="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lKvkO9UHRGopJrEQU-m3JZgLy7eMEszqmqF564V3ZtoSWB77bjOq_LcwcbdT32y6A2zSpjicycIWRbyBzrVxEljYCPmj0WhNiEQzghwJqqA9KRvFVKicvUV5dVZCFDU5Af12Fj7Bdec/s1600/logo+book+hooks.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Book
Hooks</span> is a weekly meme hosted by <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Marketing
for Romance Writers</span> as part of the MFRW Authors Blog. It's a chance each
week for you the reader to discover current WIP or previously published book by
possibly new to you authors.</b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcV0CU7EmVVgtmBzyfZQV5WSJnUwq-az6T5w2CN1RHO4cPu2V9GLxW1QF7QUrxPsG1mye10eLe6xklkg_QKjGpfY7YxV7Msxy6ZSLfXQGSJ4jtFkXX7P7m4z9S8_OlAK9MRvG2ogkZOQ/s1600/ANOTHER+SIDE+OF+PERFECTa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1035" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcV0CU7EmVVgtmBzyfZQV5WSJnUwq-az6T5w2CN1RHO4cPu2V9GLxW1QF7QUrxPsG1mye10eLe6xklkg_QKjGpfY7YxV7Msxy6ZSLfXQGSJ4jtFkXX7P7m4z9S8_OlAK9MRvG2ogkZOQ/s320/ANOTHER+SIDE+OF+PERFECTa.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b> </b></span><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>This is Book 3 in the Seaside Boulevard Series!</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b> </b></span><span style="color: blue;"></span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Another-Side-Perfect-Seaside-Boulevard/dp/1981309748/ref=sr_1_4?keywords=karen+cino&qid=1560006920&s=gateway&sr=8-4" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>$4.99 on Amazon Kindle & $12.99 Paperback</b></span></b></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>BLURB </b></span></b></span></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b></b></span></u></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<u><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"></span></b></span></u><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Richie and Francine’s marriage takes another hit when his dad dies of a
massive heart attack. Angelina, Richie’s mom is distraught, not leaving
her house. When Francine finds herself pregnant, everyone is ecstatic,
especially Angelina. However, their excitement turns into worry when
Francine falls putting her pregnancy in high risk, restricting her to
bed rest. Gary Thompson gets traded to another team on the west coast.
Toni needs to make the decision to go with him, or stay home and end
their relationship. Amy and Jason’s wedding invitations are sent out.
The question is will their families accept their wedding? A surprise
guest the eve of the wedding will put the spin on the next day’s
festivities.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><u>EXCERPT </u></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
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<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Carefully Amy walked up the
path. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Francine lying on the floor at the
bottom of the steps, her head on the grass and her body on the pavers. The bags
fell from her hands and she let out a shrill cry.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Francine,”
she nudged her, “what’s wrong?” No answer, no movement. “Oh my God.” Reaching
into her back pocket, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911. “I need
help,” she cried into the phone.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Calm
down. I need to know what the problem is.” “My friend is down on the floor
outside unconscious.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She’s
pregnant, oh my God, her baby. Please help me. Francine, talk to me.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Her eyes barely opened. She
mumbled something, which Amy couldn’t understand before closing her eyes again.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Amy
gave the woman on the other end of the phone Francine’s address. The woman told
her not to move her and an ambulance was on its way. Amy got up, ran to her car
and took out the beach blanket in the trunk, returning to cover her.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Please,
Francine, wake up. How did this happen? Don’t worry, I’m here for you. I’m not
leaving your side. Everything is going to be all right. Please stay with me.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Out
of the corner of her eye she saw an open book and a bag with what looked like
clothes. She reached over for the book and it turned out to be Sally’s
sketchbook. Why would Francine have Sally’s sketchbook? Francine hadn’t said
anything about Sally coming over when they spoke this morning.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In
the distance, Amy heard the ambulance approaching. She took hold of Francine’s
hand and started to talk to her about all their antics they pulled throughout
their friendship. She didn’t know what else to do. At least if she kept talking
to her maybe she would open her eyes or respond by squeezing her hand.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
ambulance arrived. The EMTs started taking Francine’s vital signs, shielding
Amy from seeing what they were doing.</span></span></b></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Let’s
get her on oxygen,” one of the men commanded. “Oh my. Is she okay? Is she all
right?” Amy cried. “She’s fine. After doing a quick assessment, it seems</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">that she slipped and fell
down the stairs. It’s possible she has a concussion. We won’t know anything
until we get her to the hospital for additional testing.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What
about the baby?” </span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“She’s
pregnant?” <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes.
Please don’t let anything happen to the baby.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ignoring
her, he said to the other EMT, “Let’s get her on a stretcher.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
think something else happened here. These items,” Amy pointed, “do not belong
to her. It might be possible someone pushed her down the stairs.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That
isn’t our department. You’ll have to wait for the police to come to file a
report.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m
not leaving my best friend alone. I’ll call the police on the way to the
hospital.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
EMT strapped Francine down to the stretcher and put her seat belt on. Amy
followed the stretcher onto the ambulance. She sat on the bench next to her. As
the ambulance raced down Father Capadanno Boulevard, Amy called Jason and then
911 again. By the time the ambulance arrived at the hospital, the police had
arrived as well as Jason.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Amy
followed behind Francine. Along the way she grabbed Jason’s hand, leading him
into the emergency room.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
first thing the nurse did was check all Francine’s vitals. Next, the doctor
came in and ordered a CAT scan of her head, along with an ultrasound of the
baby. Amy told them Doctor Taylor was her obstetrician. When the transporter
came to bring Francine up for her scan, the doctor told Amy she couldn’t go
into the room with her and she had to stay in the waiting room. They would come
get her when they were done.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When
they wheeled Francine into the elevator, she turned and fell into Jason’s arms.
Amy cried for the longest time. Her thoughts kept going to Francine. If
anything happened to her baby, Francine would never recover. What worried her
even more had been why she had been unconscious for so long. She was no medical
doctor, but she knew this wasn’t a very good sign.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ms.
Mills?” a deep voice said. Amy turned around to face Officer Miller. </span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes.”
</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
placed a call to us.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Amy
took a deep breath before sliding into the leather waiting room chair. “I did
because I suspect that Francine wasn’t alone when she fell down the stairs. I
found her friend’s sketchbook and shopping bag with clothes at the bottom of
the stairs. If I was to make a calculated guess, I would say Sally Britts was
at the house.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Who
is Sally Britts?” Miller asked. “She is a friend of Francine.” “What would
cause you to believe she had something to do with the fall if she was her
friend?” he asked, resting his hand on his gun.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Amy
gave him Francine’s address. “Just a feeling I have.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Miller
scribbled something on his pad before flipping it closed and placing it back
into his pant’s pocket. “I will be in touch with you.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When
Miller was out of ears reach, Amy said, “He’s so full of shit. He thought I was
a nut job. I bet he doesn’t follow up on this.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Babe.”
Jason turned her around to face him. </span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Let
it go. What’s important here is Francine. </span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>*****</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Amy
walked into Francine’s room. When she saw that Francine was still not conscious,
she called Angelina.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hello,”
she yelled into the phone. </span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Angelina,
this is Amy, Francine’s friend.” </span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Of
course. How are you?” </span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Not
too good. I’m at the hospital with Francine.” <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What?
Why is Francine in the hospital? Is it my Richie?” </span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No.
It’s Francine. She’s had an accident.” <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What
kind of accident?” Her voice raised two octaves. <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 28.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“I’m not sure. I think she
fell down the front stairs. I found her on the floor.” “Where are you?” “In the
emergency room.” </span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 28.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“I’m on my way.” </span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 0in 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">The phone went dead. Amy
slid her phone into her back pocket and crossed her arms tightly against her
chest, staring out the glass window at the flock of turkeys walking across the
street, holding up traffic. This day had turned into a complete disaster. The
one question, which kept going through her mind was why Sally’s things were on
the floor near Francine. She needed to talk to Francine to get answers. “Oh my
God. Where’s my daughter-in-law?” Amy heard Angelina’s voice echo down the
hallway about a half hour later. Within seconds, Angelina walked into
Francine’s room</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">hugging her. Amy felt
Angelina’s hot tears fall against her neck. She held onto Amy tightly, rocking
back and forth in Amy’s arms.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s
okay, Angelina. Francine should be returning any minute. The doctor took her
upstairs to do a CAT scan.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Why?”
</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Because
she’s unconscious.” </span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 3.5in 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh
dear God.” Angelina covered her mouth. “What about the baby?” </span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b></b></span></b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b>
<u><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: red;">KAREN'S SOCIAL MEDIA</span><span style="background-color: white;"></span> </span></span></u></b></div>
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<!-- start LinkyTools script --><script src="https://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=292176" type="text/javascript"></script><!-- end LinkyTools script -->Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-86950334884634516082019-06-01T10:44:00.000-04:002019-06-04T12:07:42.281-04:00Book Hooks - A Different Side of Perfect - #MFRWHooks, MFRWAuthor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Book
Hooks</span> is a weekly meme hosted by <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Marketing
for Romance Writers</span> as part of the MFRW Authors Blog. It's a chance each
week for you the reader to discover current WIP or previously published book by
possibly new to you authors.</b></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOKYpNeGRPqFKZtmCp643jt3PiAfdSfOM2nWau4HViuh2FpqeD7MvZ4Tm-5KBWtTz1AWB5VNIyrvuNgO-hcVm8pfx5SHt3YJJk4RVGWE9u2McVfUKNsyaHl4iYVgfythGRqYGrOO_aSgI/s1600/A+diffent+kind+of+perfect2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="324" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOKYpNeGRPqFKZtmCp643jt3PiAfdSfOM2nWau4HViuh2FpqeD7MvZ4Tm-5KBWtTz1AWB5VNIyrvuNgO-hcVm8pfx5SHt3YJJk4RVGWE9u2McVfUKNsyaHl4iYVgfythGRqYGrOO_aSgI/s320/A+diffent+kind+of+perfect2.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>This is Book 2 in the Seaside Boulevard Series!</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b> </b></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: blue;"><b> </b></span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Different-Kind-Perfect-Seaside-Boulevard-ebook/dp/B077LZDB54/ref=sr_1_22?keywords=karen+cino&qid=1559398852&s=gateway&sr=8-22" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>$4.99 on Amazon Kindle & $12.99 Paperback</b></span></b></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b> </b></span></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><u>BLURB</u></b></span></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b> </b></span></b></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b> It is the grand opening of The Perfect Pitch. All the pieces fall into
place until Francine's diagnosis of breast cancer, throwing their lives
upside down. While Amy and Jason deal with the reaction from her family
to their interracial relationship, Toni finds herself in another
overbearing relationship with Pelicans third baseman Gary Thompson.<br /> In
the mist of taking care of Francine and working at The Perfect Pitch,
Richie gets a call from the owner of the Pelicans. He is offered a job
as pitching coach for the team. Richie accepts the job, putting a huge
strain on his marriage which affects all of them.</b></span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><u>EXCERPT</u></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b> The sound of machines beeped above her head. Francine tried to open her eyes but couldn’t. Her body felt paralyzed. Why couldn’t she move? What if something went wrong and she was paralyzed for life? She wondered what happened during the surgery. Did they find something else? Did she have one breast or none? Right before she counted backwards from ten, Doctor Taylor handed her a clipboard with paperwork that needed to be signed. She remembered asking him why he waited until the last minute to sign the paper. His answer, “Procedure.”<br /> Over the sound of the machine, she heard Richie talking. She had no idea what she was going to face when she totally woke up. “...I need you to open your eyes. I’m not leaving this room until I see your big brown eyes. From the moment I laid eyes on you, my heart skipped a beat and you stopped me in my tracks. You were always smiling even in your darkest moments. You’re my love, my best friend. Your hugs are precious especially when you hug me for no reason at all. Your kisses make me melt. I can kiss you all day long. You are one of the most unselfish women I have ever known. You listen to me, share in all my glory at the ballpark every time I pitch. Funny, I can always hear your cheering and chanting through the crowd. My favorite part of the day is at night when I’m wrapped in your arms because I know in the morning I’m going to wake up beside you, sharing another precious day with you. Please sweetheart, open your eyes, let me know you are okay so we can plan our future together. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit...”<br /> Richie was praying. She couldn’t make out which prayer, because his words were mumbled. With all her strength, she was able to move her pointer finger. She lifted it up and down hoping Richie saw the movement. But he didn’t or else he would be yelling with excitement. She needed to get his attention, let him know she heard him. All at once she felt her eyes water. The love in his heart couldn’t be any more evident. Hearing his voice soothed her. She knew she was alive and would soon be wrapped in Richie’s arms.<br /> “Nurse,” Richie yelled. “She’s waking up. She moved. There are tears in her eyes.”</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b> </b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b>
<u><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: red;">KAREN'S SOCIAL MEDIA</span><span style="background-color: white;"></span> </span></span></u></b></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">Website</a><br />
<a href="http://karencinobooks.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4444484.Karen_Cino" target="_blank">Goodreads</a><br /><a href="http://us8.campaign-archive1.com/home/?u=372e9cad72e3faf1c0a8b9a4e&id=9ac84ba873" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> <a href="https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B008LCG31Y" target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a></span></b></span></div>
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Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-74724429663718054942019-05-29T12:00:00.000-04:002019-05-29T12:00:23.621-04:00Book Hooks - The Perfect Pitch - #MFRWHooks, #MFRWAuthor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Book
Hooks</span> is a weekly meme hosted by <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Marketing
for Romance Writers</span> as part of the MFRW Authors Blog. It's a chance each
week for you the reader to discover current WIP or previously published book by
possibly new to you authors.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3MesR_pXvpl6By23JjJJTogO3fi8QqcpFng77ZpCCige4_VU40MBAXmb1F7CwZ9pkoRAhp7z3QhBRie07OrThLKVICJac7vRg_hQB7rxYqCG9ypQ3L6tWS7_YNeA4e_TNnUcKqBlLsaI/s1600/The+Perfect+Pitch+Smashwords.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3MesR_pXvpl6By23JjJJTogO3fi8QqcpFng77ZpCCige4_VU40MBAXmb1F7CwZ9pkoRAhp7z3QhBRie07OrThLKVICJac7vRg_hQB7rxYqCG9ypQ3L6tWS7_YNeA4e_TNnUcKqBlLsaI/s320/The+Perfect+Pitch+Smashwords.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: blue;"><b>The Perfect Pitch is book 1 in the Seaside Boulevard Series.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: blue;"><b> </b></span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Perfect-Pitch-Karen-Cino-ebook/dp/B0721KFHLN/ref=sr_1_3?keywords=karen+cino&qid=1558720336&s=gateway&sr=8-3" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>$3.99 on Amazon Kindle & $12.99 Paperback</b></span></b></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><u>BLURB</u></b></span></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b> Francine and Richie Ragglio are high school sweethearts. Francine owns
her own real estate business and Richie pitches for the New York
Pelicans. Richie hurts his shoulder while pitching the first game of the
season, not the way he wants to end his career. When Francine is left
an abandoned restaurant from someone from her past, things begin to
spiral out of control. The mystery of a hidden basement brings Francine
and her friends together to do their own investigation, which puts them
in the middle of a smuggling ring. <br /> Will Richie's get through his
surgery so he can retire on top of his game? And will Francine and her
friends solve the mystery of the hidden basement?</b></span></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><u>EXCERPT</u></b></span></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"></span><span style="color: #0b5394;"></span></b></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Francine went along with the laugh. No
way would she try to explain to them what they were up to. As far as Francine
was concerned, they were just appeasing Toni. If the basement had been closed,
then there would have been another blueprint in the book. Or maybe Marvin
closed it up and never bothered to change the blueprints, so he didn’t have to
hire an architect and file permits. He might have said screw it in order to
save money.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Francine walked out the backdoor and
there was Amy along with Toni on their hands and knees, pushing grass with
their hands off the concrete.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“Well if it isn’t the Nancy Drew dream
team.” Francine laughed, resting her hands on her hips.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“Are you going to help us or are you
going to stand there watching?” Toni asked.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“I’m going to help you. But I think
before we go crazy, we take another trip down to City Hall to see if there is
another blueprint beside the two of them.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“Just keep looking,” Toni snapped. “I
went through the book twice.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“Okay, I believe you,” Francine said. “I
didn’t mean to agitate you.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“I think the opening has to be over here
somewhere,” Amy said, pointing to the metal tape measure. “I’ve followed the
dimensions on the blueprint to a ‘T.’ If I calculated right, the opening should
be right around here.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Francine dropped to her knees. She joined
Amy and Toni in pulling the overgrown weeds and grass off the back of the
building, exposing the concrete foundation.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“We’re going to have to dig some of the
dirt away from the building,” Amy concluded.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“I think we should take another look at
this.” Francine stood, shaking her right leg that had become stiff. “I’m going
to grab the shovels. Using my hands isn’t cutting it.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“I agree with her.” Amy stood. “I’m
thinking something is here. A basement just doesn’t disappear.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Francine handed Amy and Toni a shovel.
Immediately, Francine and Amy began, while Toni tapped her shovel around the
area. As she shoveled, Francine kept her eyes on Toni who seemed to be on a
mission of her own.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“What’s she up to?” Francine asked,
nudging Amy.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“I don’t know. She didn’t say a word to
me.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“I’m going to keep digging.” After
digging a foot down and six feet wide, Francine finally was able to see the
difference in the concrete. The smooth concrete had turned into unleveled
bricks held together sloppily by cement.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“Hey, I found something here,” Francine
called out.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“Where?” Amy asked.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“So have I,” Toni said.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Francine leaned her shovel against the side
of the building. “What did you find?” she asked walking with Amy toward her.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“I’m not sure if it’s anything. But
listen.” Toni banged the shovel two feet behind her to the dirt and then three
feet in front of her. “I hear an echo. Do you?”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“Do it again,” Amy ordered.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Toni tapped her shovel again in front of
her and behind her. The sound was different. But how could it be? Francine
thought.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Toni lifted her shovel. “Let’s dig over
here.”</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">All three women started digging. After a
few minutes, they hit something hard. They dropped to their knees and used
their hands to move the dirt, to reveal a metal plate with a big thick round
metal handle.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“I knew there was something fishy about
those blueprints,” Toni gloated.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“What should we do now?” Amy asked
standing.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“Open it, see what is under the door,”
Francine said.</span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b>
<u><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: red;">KAREN'S SOCIAL MEDIA</span><span style="background-color: white;"></span> </span></span></u></b></div>
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</span></u></b>
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</b>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 346.5pt;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">Website</a><br />
<a href="http://karencinobooks.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 346.5pt;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4444484.Karen_Cino" target="_blank">Goodreads</a><br /><a href="http://us8.campaign-archive1.com/home/?u=372e9cad72e3faf1c0a8b9a4e&id=9ac84ba873" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 346.5pt;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> <a href="https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B008LCG31Y" target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a></span></b></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-53256839046822983152019-05-17T14:24:00.000-04:002019-05-21T11:26:38.911-04:00Book Hooks - Drama Club Chaos #MFRWhooks, #MFRWAuthor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lKvkO9UHRGopJrEQU-m3JZgLy7eMEszqmqF564V3ZtoSWB77bjOq_LcwcbdT32y6A2zSpjicycIWRbyBzrVxEljYCPmj0WhNiEQzghwJqqA9KRvFVKicvUV5dVZCFDU5Af12Fj7Bdec/s1600/logo+book+hooks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="307" data-original-width="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lKvkO9UHRGopJrEQU-m3JZgLy7eMEszqmqF564V3ZtoSWB77bjOq_LcwcbdT32y6A2zSpjicycIWRbyBzrVxEljYCPmj0WhNiEQzghwJqqA9KRvFVKicvUV5dVZCFDU5Af12Fj7Bdec/s1600/logo+book+hooks.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Book
Hooks</span> is a weekly meme hosted by <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Marketing
for Romance Writers</span> as part of the MFRW Authors Blog. It's a chance each
week for you the reader to discover current WIP or previously published book by
possibly new to you authors.</b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghPFcjg_Vy67yLTuvYXmXbsikHnupA1OgRSOD71mto4uxIx3yawBo_q9vxGYS9XL4O1j398De3ZKRIu8SHk3Kq0wkuwUhQkKrVN17hwfiMg9-l7iOy89U1YqUgLQu9B8SJT0u9KAXsvdk/s1600/book+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="436" data-original-width="286" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghPFcjg_Vy67yLTuvYXmXbsikHnupA1OgRSOD71mto4uxIx3yawBo_q9vxGYS9XL4O1j398De3ZKRIu8SHk3Kq0wkuwUhQkKrVN17hwfiMg9-l7iOy89U1YqUgLQu9B8SJT0u9KAXsvdk/s320/book+4.jpg" width="209" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Dram Club Chaos is the third book in the Cookie Cutter Cozy Mystery Series. </b></span></b></span>
</b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><br /></b></span></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Drama-Chaos-Cookie-Cutter-Mystery-ebook/dp/B07PGBKGFZ/ref=sr_1_4?keywords=karen+cino&qid=1558116036&s=gateway&sr=8-4" target="_blank">$2.99 on Amazon Kindle & $9.99 Paperback</a></b></span></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><br /></b></span></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><u>BLURB</u></b></span></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">All is quiet at the fifty-five and older community where Connie Acosta
is running her illegal bakery out of best friend Sara Mazza's garage.
Both women swore off getting involved in any police business at the
compound. Just as the two amateur sleuths are enjoying a night out in
the clubhouse ballroom, a scream from the lounge draws them into the
middle of a police investigation with Warren and Brett, their current
partners. Who said seniors can't get into trouble and fall in love
again.</span></b></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>EXCERPT </b></span></u></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<u><span style="color: #0b5394;"></span></u>
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<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Come on, Connie,” Sara said, grabbing
her arm. “It’s disco time.” She pushed Jack toward Vic. “We’ll be right back.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Connie
got lost in the music. There were so many memories attached to these songs. She
could recite the title, artist’s name and year it was released. That’s how much
she loved the music. The DJ played five disco songs in a row and then
immediately cleared the dance floor when he played a country western song.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What
is it with this DJ? I’m totally over this,” Sara said, walking over to the table.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
got us some snacks from the kitchen,” Jack said. “I have a tray of cheese and
crackers that I forgot at home. Do you want me to go get it?”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
don’t need to.” Sara ran her hand up his thigh. “Sit tight––”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Connie
watched their playful exchange, as did the woman sitting next to Jack. Jack
smiled, slid out of his seat and walked over to Vic.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sara!
People can see you. Behave,” Connie warned.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Don’t
tell me you are talking about these people here.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
am. I hear the way they talk about Lizzy, calling her an old whore. These women
get really graphic.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Without
a doubt. They have nothing else to do than to watch what other people are
doing. If you pay close attention to the house across the street from us, you
can see Lucy peeking through the blinds over here,” Sara said.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Now
how would you know that unless you’re doing the same thing?”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sara’s
cheeks turned red. “Okay, you got me. I’m just making sure no one is getting
too close to the house. The last thing we need is for someone to find out we’re
running an illegal bakery in the garage.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re
right. That’s why we have to watch what we say and who we get friendly with.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re
always one step ahead––”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What
are you two whispering about now?” Vic asked with Jack standing next to him,
shaking his head.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Before
Connie or Sara could answer them, the DJ slowed the music down. Vic took
Connie’s hand and led her out onto the dance floor.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
have to ask. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming tonight?” Vic asked,
holding her in his arms.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Because
most of the time Sara and I are on the dance floor. Sorry I didn’t mention it.
Don’t be upset.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m
not. I like spending time with you and enjoy watching you have fun.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re
really different. I’ve never met anyone like you,” Connie said.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
can say the same thing, but I’d be lying. I was with my ex since we were kids.
We were married almost thirty-two years when she served me with divorce papers.
But that’s in the past,” Vic said. “You’re my future.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Vic’s
words echoed in her mind. Connie liked him, but wasn’t ready to start any kind
of serious relationship. Since they met, their relationship was casual and
Connie liked how things were. She was looking for companionship, nothing more.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Connie
wanted to say, “Slow down cowboy,” but instead said, “Vic you’re jumping ahead
of things. I like things the way they are. Let’s take it one day at a time and
enjoy the night.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It
was as if the DJ read her mind as he played another slow song. Connie took a
step back to gaze at Vic. She smiled. “Another slow one.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Shall
we?” he asked, extending his hand.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Absolutely.”
She slid her hand into his. How’d you learn to waltz?”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
took dance lessons before my daughter got married.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Of
course. I’m sure you danced to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Daddy’s
Little Girl</i>.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What
father doesn’t?”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’d
be surprised.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Vic
placed his hands on her waist, pulling her closer to him. The dance floor was
crowded as the DJ played another slow song. Connie relaxed in his arms, feeling
his breath on her cheeks. Vic gave the impression that he was serious about
her. It seemed that he was always bringing up subjects relating to marriage and
how he felt content whenever he was around her.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
can hold you like this all night. Sorry I don’t know any disco moves,” Vic
said.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
don’t give me the impression that you were the disco king back in the day.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re
right. I wasn’t. I always leaned toward country western music.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Not
me. I was the disco queen.” </span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hmm.
Us Jersey boys had a label for you gals.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Not
me. I was already with my husband. No playing mind games with the guys from
me.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Vic
stared into her eyes. “You have put me under a serious spell.”</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
lifted her chin with his finger. Just as their lips met, the shrill of a
woman’s voice was heard over the music. After another scream, the music stopped
and the room went silent. This time the words, “Oh my God, she’s dead,” echoed
throughout the room.</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b>
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Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-25688895812118665262019-05-16T19:53:00.000-04:002019-05-16T19:53:38.530-04:00Book Hooks - Chaos at the Compound - #MFRWhooks, MFRWAuthor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Book
Hooks</span> is a weekly meme hosted by <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Marketing
for Romance Writers</span> as part of the MFRW Authors Blog. It's a chance each
week for you the reader to discover current WIP or previously published book by
possibly new to you authors.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b> <span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Chaos at the Compound is the second book in the Cookie Cutter Cozy Mystery Series. </b></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><br /></b></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Chaos-Compound-Cookie-Cutter-Mystery-ebook/dp/B076FBVBZY/ref=sr_1_9?keywords=karen+cino&qid=1557501406&s=gateway&sr=8-9" target="_blank">$2.99 or FREE FOR KU SUBSCRIBERS</a></b></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><br /></b></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><u>BLURB</u></b></span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"></span></b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: white;">Connie Acosta is officially a resident in the fifty-five and older
community her best friend Sara Mazza lives in. Her baker's kitchen is
almost complete and she has met Vic, another resident who is crazy about
her. Meanwhile, Sara finds herself in the mist of a love triangle with
Vic's friend Jack and Warren, a police officer at the local station.<br />
When Sara received a call from her friend at the clubhouse saying
there is a dead body floating in the outdoor pool, the women rush there
to check things out, getting themselves involved in another
investigation, especially when Sara finds a few blue pills scattered in
the grass that she didn't turn into the police.<br />Who said seniors can't get into trouble and fall in love again.</span></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: white;"><u>EXCERPT</u></span></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">After a long cold snowy winter and a chilly spring, the
clear blue sky and warm weather of late spring brought all the residents back
from their winter homes. The leaves popped out on the trees just like the snow
had on the branches. Flowers of different colors began sprouting out throughout
the community, just waiting for the deer to find them. Bunnies and chipmunks
came out of hibernation and were out every morning like clockwork, searching
for food.</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Connie
Acosta walked out onto the deck with her cup of coffee, taking all of it in.
Watching the bunnies hopping around the back in full sight was one of nature’s
delights and this morning was no different. Since moving in with her best
friend Sara Mazza, her life had turned around. Her divorce was final and she
had to decide on what to do with her house on Staten Island. Maybe now was the
time for her to sell her house and buy her own place in the community.</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Good
morning.” Sara walked onto the deck and sat across from Connie. “It feels like
summer.”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
know and I’m loving it. The best part is how quiet it is here. It makes my
thinking become so much clearer.” Connie sipped her coffee. “That’s why I’m
contemplating that maybe it’s time for me to find my own house, giving you back
your privacy.”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sara
stood. “No. I won’t hear of it. We have our business to build. There’s no time
to start packing and unpacking. I think what we need to do is transform my
house into a workstation for both of us.”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
how do you plan on doing that?”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“My
idea is to make the sunroom into my studio. I can put tables around the room to
put the platters to dry and buy a worktable to put in the center of the room
with storage room on either side for my paints. I saw the table I wanted in an
antique store on route nine, and they deliver.”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
wonderful. It takes care of your workspace, but what about mine. I really need
a double oven to get at least two trays in at a time.”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
I figured that all out last night.” Sara leaned to her side and took out a
piece of paper from her pajama bottoms. She unfolded the paper and placed it on
the table for Connie to see.</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Connie
lifted the paper off the table to get a closer look at it. “What are you
planning to put an extension on the house?”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Nope.
That’s where the garage comes in to play. If we take half the garage, you can
have a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">big </i>stove and plenty of space
to lay out your cookies.”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah
and freeze my ass off in the middle of the winter.”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
I have that all figured out too. My neighbor used to be a contractor. He said
we can put a wall up to separate the other half of the garage from the kitchen,
and he would insulate and sheetrock, making it into your own kitchen.”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“When
did you have time to talk to your neighbor?”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sara
laughed. “Last night. He’s always up late because he takes his dog out at one
o’clock for the last time before he goes to sleep.”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What
scares me is that you have your neighbor’s schedule down to a science. I think
you’re turning into a true senior citizen.”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Never.
There are people who live here in their late eighties and bounce around like
they are teenagers, so keep your thoughts buried.”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thank
God for that.” Connie smiled. “So when do you want to start?”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Immediately.
I thought we’d have an early dinner, stop at the antique store and then go look
at the ovens.”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That
works. I have an idea of what type of oven I’m looking for. I can’t believe
this is going to actually happen. This has been our dream since we were kids.”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Dreams
do come true.“</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
phone rang. Sara reached into her pajama bottoms and answered. “Hello.”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in .5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Connie
watched Sara’s expression change from smiling to her mouth opening wide as she
walked back into the house. Connie thought back to her first day she arrived
when Sara told her a wild goose chase story about missing pictures in the
clubhouse, which mysteriously reappeared. Connie thought it was a joke until
she witnessed it with her own eyes. The whole incident helped her to forget
about her ex-husband who had humiliated her in front of all her friends,
cheating on her, having babies with multiple women, and topped it off by
selling enhancement drugs to the kids on the football team in order to win
games and championships, putting the players’ health at stake.</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re never going to believe this,”
Sara said, closing the screen door behind her and leaning against the deck.</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Did
something happen?” Connie moved her chair into the sun, turning toward Sara.</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hannah
at the clubhouse just called and told me she just got to work and discovered a
body face down in the pool.”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No
way. I’m assuming the person is dead.”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes.
The police are down there right now investigating. What do you say? Are you
in?”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
what exactly are we going to do?”</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We
are going to find out who it is and why he’s dead. I can’t believe someone
would jump into the pool and drown in three feet of water.”</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">
</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"></span></b><br />
<b></b><br />
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<b>
<u><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: red;">KAREN'S SOCIAL MEDIA</span><span style="background-color: white;"></span> </span></span></u></b></div>
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<b><u><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></span></u><br /></b></div>
<b>
</b>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">Website</a><br />
<a href="http://karencinobooks.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4444484.Karen_Cino" target="_blank">Goodreads</a><br /><a href="http://us8.campaign-archive1.com/home/?u=372e9cad72e3faf1c0a8b9a4e&id=9ac84ba873" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> <a href="https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B008LCG31Y" target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"></span></b></span></div>
<br />
<!-- start LinkyTools script --><script src="https://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=290988" type="text/javascript"></script><!-- end LinkyTools script -->Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-7682666147547039452019-05-07T13:10:00.001-04:002019-05-16T19:57:06.805-04:00Book Hooks - New Beginnings #MFRWhooks, #WFRWAuthor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Book
Hooks</span> is a weekly meme hosted by <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Marketing
for Romance Writers</span> as part of the MFRW Authors Blog. It's a chance each
week for you the reader to discover current WIP or previously published book by
possibly new to you authors.</b></span><br />
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<b><img border="0" data-original-height="207" data-original-width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR7JTqT9IQ22OEJNhDGjaj541QvyjZHemS-j5EG3RdB8AYAj8tzOIH7SubD335b5XMGzMoE48aqGO3FGaGCvKdKDUnZ_DGDPjkROP8v8Fa99qYVZultfkI5ow4iF9kmDMWF7kI-OROggY/s1600/3+book+series.jpg" /></b></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b> New Beginnings is the first book in the Cookie Cutter Cozy Mystery Series. </b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Beginnings-Cookie-Cutter-Cozy-Mystery-ebook/dp/B075BS214Q/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3GALO1RX51W2S&keywords=karen+cino&qid=1556901758&s=gateway&sprefix=karen+cino%2Caps%2C229&sr=8-1" target="_blank">$2.99 OR FREE FOR KU SUBSCRIBERS </a> </b></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><br /></b></span>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><u>BLURB</u></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b> </b></span><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>After a traumatic event in her life, Connie Acosta heads down to the
Jersey Shore to stay with her friend, Sara Mazza, who lives in a
fifty-five and over community. For Connie, this is a temporary stop
until she figures out what she wants to do.<br /><br />Connie and Sara have a
brief discussion and decide to start the baking business they had
spoken about decades before. But things take a dramatic turn when Sara
gets Connie involved in a mysterious adventure at the clubhouse.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><u>EXCERPT</u></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"></span><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><u><style><!--
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<br /></div>
<b><u>
</u></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It was the perfect day for a
pep rally. The sky was blue with clouds scattered toward the east. Connie
Acosta couldn’t believe how warm the weather was for a fall day. Usually at the
first pep rally of the school year, she always stood on the sidelines in a
bulky sweater. But this year was different. For the beginning of October the
temperatures were still in the seventies, a treat for suburban mothers in
Staten Island, New York. Standing out in the cold had never been her forte.</span></b></div>
<b>
</b>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">All the teachers were already
standing on the sidelines when she arrived. She had just run a few errands for
her husband, Teddy, who was the high school football coach, happy to have made
it back in time for the start of the pep rally.</span></b></div>
<b>
</b>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Connie, over here,” Rita, the
principal, waved her over.</span></b></div>
<b>
</b>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Connie joined Rita at the
platform stage under the goal posts. Up on stage was a podium with a microphone
and eight black and red football helmets. Earlier, Teddy had revealed to her
that eight of the junior varsity football players were being moved up to the
varsity team, which was why she had gone shopping to pick up the gold uniform
numbers to give to the new varsity players, a ritual Teddy had done since he
took over the team.</span></b></div>
<b>
</b>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“How was your summer?” Rita
asked, hugging Connie.</span></b></div>
<b>
</b>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Great. Teddy and I went down
to Florida for two weeks. How about you?”</span></b></div>
<b>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I did my usual. Did the summer
school stint and then went to California for a week to visit my daughter,
son-in-law and granddaughter.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“How old is she now?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I can’t believe she is already
seven. Time goes by so fast.” Rita slid her sunglasses onto the top of her
head. “How’s the attorneys?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Both my sons are doing well.
They opened their own law firm Acosta and Associates and brought their cousin
into the firm with them. Unfortunately neither one is close to giving me a
grandchild. ”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Rita patted her on the back.
“Don’t worry it will eventually happen.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The music began and the
marching band came onto the field playing the school’s song, causing everyone
in the stands to stand up and sing along before cheering at the end of the
song. As the band played their next song, they got into their position on the
opposite sidelines making room for Teddy to jog across the field to the podium.
When he past by the faculty, he high-fived each of his colleagues, until he
came to her. Teddy gave her a quick hug without exchanging words and continued
up to the podium where he stood waiting for the band to finish playing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“How pumped up is Teddy this
year?” Rita asked, leaning into Connie.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Really pumped. The moment our
vacation ended, he had the boys down here practicing everyday.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“So I heard. I few of the
parents thought he was being obsessive with the practicing, but I assured them
in the end it pays off. Teddy has won the state championship eight years in a
row.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“That’s my husband. Sometimes I
think football is his soul mate.” She laughed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Welcome and thank you all for
coming out to attend our first pep rally of the school year,” Teddy’s voice
echoed through the stadium.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The cheerleaders ran out onto
the field with their black and red pompoms, making the students go crazy
screaming. They performed a routine and ended it with the girls forming a
pyramid with the cheerleader captain standing on top.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Thank you ladies.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The girls disengaged and stood
in two parallel lines with their pompoms raised above their heads.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“It is my pleasure to introduce
the varsity football team,” he spoke, his voice rising through the PA system
above the band that began playing again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The players jogged in one at a
time between the cheerleaders. Connie looked up at Teddy who stood watching
with a huge smile on his face. She knew how proud he was of his boys. He put a
lot of time into making sure the boys were physically fit and kept their grades
up. Teddy was a stickler for making sure all the players maintained at least a
B average in all their subjects. If they didn’t, they were benched.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Connie couldn’t be any prouder
of her husband. Thirty-eight years earlier she stood on this same field
cheering for her Teddy, who was a senior, while she only a freshman. She spent
her first year of high school dating the high school quarterback, any girl’s
dream come true. Teddy went on to college, got his teaching degree in physical
education and returned to teach at the same school he attended.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“It’s with great joy that I
introduce you to our varsity football team.” While everyone cheered, Teddy bent
down to lift up the first of the eight helmets. “This year I will be adding
eight junior varsity players to my team. These boys worked hard and each
maintained a B average throughout the school year. They cursed me when I
benched them for failing back to back tests, but in the long run, all my boys
in the past went on to college with full scholarships.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The stadium exploded again in
cheers. The band began playing again and the cheerleaders did another routine.
The music and cheering was so loud, that no one heard the siren of the police
cars driving onto the football field.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Your husband is full of
surprises,” Rita yelled over the music. “I can’t believe he got the police to
come here to escort in the new players to the varsity team.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Neither can I. This is just as
much a surprise for me too. But that’s my hubby.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The police cars slowly
approached the stage as the band played louder and the cheerleaders surrounded
the police cars. Connie was impressed with how Teddy still had the knack of
keeping surprises to himself, in fear that she might accidentally let it slip
out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Please move away from the
cars,” a voice echoed through from the speakers of the police car.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Everyone cheered even louder,
sending the whole stadium into a roar. But when the words were spoken again,
there was an authority to the voice that sent chills through Connie, as well as
the rest of the stadium, with everyone becoming silent when another police car
and two unmarked cars sped into the stadium.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Connie watched as the cops got
out of their cars, and men in suits with gold shields on silver link chains
hung around their necks walked right up to the podium. Rita touched her
shoulder, squeezed it and whispered, “I’m sorry.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Theodore David Acosta?” blared
over the PA system.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Yes," Teddy answered.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"You're under arrest..." </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 2.15pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><u>KAREN'S SOCIAL MEDIA<span style="background-color: white;"></span></u> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Website: <a href="http://karencino.com/">http://karencino.com</a><br />
Blog: <a href="http://karencinobooks.com/">http://karencinobooks.com</a><br />
Twitter: <a href="http://www.twitter.com/karencino">http://www.twitter.com/karencino</a><br />
Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/karencino">https://www.facebook.com/karencino</a><br />
Facebook Author Page: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Karen-Cino-296585170371401/">https://www.facebook.com/Karen-Cino-296585170371401/</a><br />
Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4444484.Karen_Cino">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4444484.Karen_Cino</a><br />
Newsletter: <a href="http://us8.campaign-archive1.com/home/?u=372e9cad72e3faf1c0a8b9a4e&id=9ac84ba873">http://us8.campaign-archive1.com/home/?u=372e9cad72e3faf1c0a8b9a4e&id=9ac84ba873</a><br />
Amazon Author Page: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B008LCG31Y">https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B008LCG31Y</a></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "chalkduster"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></span></b></span></div>
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Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-84245971436136664712017-09-02T16:52:00.000-04:002017-09-05T11:46:03.500-04:00Tuesday Tales - Word Prompt - Bone<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Welcome to this weeks edition of Tuesday Tales. It feels great to be back with this awesome group of authors. With September rolling in, I'm starting a new story. I so sad that the summer is almost over. It really went by too quick. Happy September!</div>
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Anna Hershitelli followed the instructions on the certified
letter she had received a few days previous. This whole adventure had been
surreal, one that she had never dreamed would have ever happened to her. </div>
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When she received the letter, she had tossed it aside,
assuming it was another letter from a creditor. When her partner died two years
ago, it was a complete shock. Billy had been in the best of shape. Every
morning they went jogging together before heading to work. Who would have
thought that a forty two year old man would have a massive heart attack? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjERBhZQMcUehqfSR6qv4J9Auh5p3E7LONpDY5pNRlAI_Wd9A9NMCfemWUkUIQH3FmMlIzZMTlJLHx7ZTgwJhjrEQKAy-PdPpWggIl078NcaUPI_Xc3FNt7ClfqUA-R5F9_FwNhsgm_vKE/s1600/bills2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="780" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjERBhZQMcUehqfSR6qv4J9Auh5p3E7LONpDY5pNRlAI_Wd9A9NMCfemWUkUIQH3FmMlIzZMTlJLHx7ZTgwJhjrEQKAy-PdPpWggIl078NcaUPI_Xc3FNt7ClfqUA-R5F9_FwNhsgm_vKE/s320/bills2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The bills started pouring in after the funeral along with
the debt he had incurred. They had been together for ten years and had thought
that he was well off, only to find out that he had absolutely nothing. She had
been the fool who had agreed to take out joint credit cards.</div>
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Six months after his death, she was swamped with credit card
bills. She had been given him half the money for the rent and he apparently was
pocketing it and paying with his credit card. And all the beautiful jewelry he
had given her, she now was stuck paying for it. </div>
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The trip on the Garden State Parkway went smoothly until she
got off the highway in Little Egg Harbor. She had followed the instruction
perfectly until she made the last left. Where the hell was Willow Tree Place?
Even her phone’s GPS brought her to the same place, which had a sign that read,
“No Outlet” along with two metal gates closing off the dirt street. This time,
she pulled over, got out of the car and asked the young couple standing outside
where Willow Tree Place was. They laughed before telling Anna where she made a
mistake.</div>
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Anna found her way out of the cul-de-sac and made the left
turn down a dirty road that brought her through woods and out onto route nine,
where the house was located on the corner lot.</div>
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The house was made out of stone, just like the letter said.
She pulled behind the SUV parked in front </div>
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of the house. By the time she got out
of the car, an elderly man stood in front of the slate walkway to the house.<br />
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“Good afternoon, Mrs. Hershitelli.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m Steward Walker, your Aunt Rose Aufielo’s attorney.”</div>
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“Nice to meet you.” Anna shook his hand. “I’m sorry I’m
later, but I got lost along the way. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t realize that Willow Tree Place is off of route nine
or else I would have taken route nine the whole way down.”</div>
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“I have to apologize. I had made the same mistake the first
time I came here too. Technically, the house has two addresses, one on Willow
Tree Place and the other on route nine. Your aunt used the Willow Tree Place
address because it was a difference in her taxes being off the main road.”</div>
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“I can’t believe she had this house. Even my mom didn’t know
anything about it.”</div>
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“It’s a beauty if you look vintage.”</div>
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“So I can see. I think the last time I saw a cottage made
out of stone was on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">HGTV</i>.”</div>
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“You’re probably right. There aren’t many like these around
anymore. That’s why you have gotten yourself a beauty here,” he said taking a
folder out of his briefcase. “Let’s go into the house so we can go over the
paperwork.”</div>
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“What paperwork?”</div>
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“This cottage is yours. When your aunt passed away, she left
the cottage to you, her only niece. She was certain that you were the one who
would keep the house,” he explained.</div>
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“I don’t know why she would think I could handle a house when
I’m so much in debt.”</div>
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“Not anymore. She took care of all your debt. When she came
to do her will, she said you were the only one who ever called or visited her.
You are debt free with a beautiful twenty-eight hundred square foot house,
waiting for you to move into.”</div>
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“This is a lot to digest.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anna reached down into the calf high grass and lifted up a
soda can and a steak bone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Looks
like the lawn hasn’t been maintained in quite sometime.”</div>
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“Maybe so. But wait until you see the inside.”</div>
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<a href="http://tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">RETURN TO TUESDAY TALES</a></div>
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<a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">VISIT MY WEBSITE </a></div>
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<br /></div>
Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-17546807204820748322017-06-19T20:30:00.001-04:002017-06-19T20:30:37.767-04:00Book Hooks - Roses<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7vBvHkUomia44-mK27OoF_M44itWr00JWQXGJPwZ28hbASxgzFWZ3S15DU4aGbHDtv0p5FxYB7pLWfQ9sJljt0b0-opEYl17a158tfcdRojjs1gGP72vYIrGncdxEfiKqHJ38enDUBY/s1600/logo+book+hooks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="307" data-original-width="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7vBvHkUomia44-mK27OoF_M44itWr00JWQXGJPwZ28hbASxgzFWZ3S15DU4aGbHDtv0p5FxYB7pLWfQ9sJljt0b0-opEYl17a158tfcdRojjs1gGP72vYIrGncdxEfiKqHJ38enDUBY/s1600/logo+book+hooks.jpg" /></a></div>
Book Hooks is a once a week Marketing for Romance Authors promote each
other. It's also a great way for the author to share their work and have
their friends get the word out about the group.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2adTb-F1bemB6mcKPbM-E30q7Gai9MHxtToSJ8eLBMxGPLDDUrWVt9iUJ-jlMCta9CHaHGPHO8XiX4gzMGy8YzZrKpx9999ELj9pwAzTFmG6lJU9cJDut4tarHUy_oBS7hQngWKzoDUo/s1600/Roses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2adTb-F1bemB6mcKPbM-E30q7Gai9MHxtToSJ8eLBMxGPLDDUrWVt9iUJ-jlMCta9CHaHGPHO8XiX4gzMGy8YzZrKpx9999ELj9pwAzTFmG6lJU9cJDut4tarHUy_oBS7hQngWKzoDUo/s320/Roses.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><b>BLURB</b></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
After the untimely death of her husband in the line of duty, Nikki
Petrino still grieving three years later, goes on retreat to Mexico to
finish her novel, where she meets musician Drake Dente a 90’s rock icon
working on lyrics for his comeback CD. <br />
After meeting at dinner,
Drake and Nikki can’t keep their eyes off each other. Sparks fly and
they instantly became an item. Upon returning to New York for Nikki’s
high school reunion, she learns shocking events from her best friends. <br />
After a misunderstanding, Nikki is missing and Drake is desperate to find her.</div>
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<u><b>EXCERPT </b></u> </div>
<br />
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
She dangled a pair of white heels from her hand, but glancing at her
sunburned feet she decided on a pair of white flat sandals instead.
She closed her hotel room door and headed to the Bamboo Bar.</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
The waiter led her to the perfect table beneath a bamboo roof with an
ocean view. Before opening the newspaper she purchased earlier in the
hotel’s gift shop, she ordered a piña colada. She was quite
surprised to see a New York paper. However, when she realized it was
two days old, it brought a smile to her lips.</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
Nikki still found it hard to believe that she’d actually picked up
and left solo. She always liked to be around people and would rather
not eat than to be caught alone in a restaurant. But tonight she
cherished her privacy. She loved the fact that she could do whatever
she wanted when she wanted. Whenever she went anywhere with her
friends, their main concern was always when and what they were going
to eat and what time they were going to get home. Now, there were no
responsibilities, no time schedules and no one lurking over her
shoulder giving her what they thought was the perfect solution for
her broken heart. Yes! This was the perfect trip for her.</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
Just as she finished her drink, the waiter brought her another
cocktail. She shook her head no and continued reading the paper. To
her dismay, he left the drink on the table and walked away. Before
she could call after him, he was already across the room waiting on
another table.</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
"Excuse me, miss." The interruption came from a tall
muscular man built like a body builder with the word <i>Mom</i>
tattooed on his upper arm.</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
"Yes?"</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
"The drink is from the gentleman sitting over there," he
said, pointing to a well-dressed man wearing black tailored pants and
a white button-down shirt.</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
"Please tell him, no thank you."</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
Nikki waved him off. She wanted no part of the man standing in front
of her. He was so big and his voice so deep that he frightened her.</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
“Please miss, the gentleman would like very much for you to accept
his offer,” he firmly explained in a distinct New York accent.</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
"Listen, I don't care who it's from. I'm just not interested,"
she muttered, hastily standing up.</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
"Hey that's all right, Tony. I'll take it from here. I'm a big
boy now."</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
Nikki turned around and there standing in front of her, stood a
distinguished man. He seemed familiar. He was tall, beardless with a
fair complexion, highlighted by very appealing hazel eyes. His wavy
light brown hair extended past the nape of his neck and lay floppily
on his forehead. She fought the urge to sweep his shiny bangs away
from his soft brown eyes.</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
“I'm Drake Dente," he said in a British accent.</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
As soon as he spoke and introduced himself, she knew exactly who he
was. "Nice to meet you, Drake. I'm Nikki Petrino."</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
"Oh, really!" Surprisingly, he laughed. "I just
finished reading your novel <i>Detective’s Row</i>. It was great.
In fact it was the first book in a long time that kept my attention
from beginning to end. Damn, I wish I had brought it with me. I
would’ve loved to have you autograph it!"</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
"Thank you." She smiled. “That's truly a compliment."</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
"You wrote it like a true New Yorker."</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">CLICK HERE TO VISIT MY WEBSITE </a></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Roses-Karen-Cino-ebook/dp/B016FQME38/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1497916403&sr=8-6&keywords=karen+cino" target="_blank">AVAILABLE THROUGH AMAZON KINDLE</a></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Roses-Karen-Cino/dp/1518812155/ref=sr_1_15?ie=UTF8&qid=1497916403&sr=8-15&keywords=karen+cino" target="_blank">AVAILABLE THROUGH AMAZON PAPERBACK</a></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/575939" target="_blank">AVAILABLE THROUGH SMASHWORDS</a></div>
<!-- start LinkyTools script --><script src="https://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=278403" type="text/javascript"></script><!-- end LinkyTools script -->Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-26329743856398670302017-06-11T17:13:00.000-04:002017-06-13T08:22:39.610-04:00Book Hooks - New Release<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIq7IIWmtjPZLsw_jH_3zaGqx7Q0zlXeYLYyMcYHTZh9ISeCt2gBlcYreyFt9nduKg0YQ0v7L_NFyBFKTCT1hkZskk_PLY2uheIG7VMZx9NqRd3Nk6BI3nt8ObNxAtOWIeIWTGVO9nWoM/s1600/logo+book+hooks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="307" data-original-width="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIq7IIWmtjPZLsw_jH_3zaGqx7Q0zlXeYLYyMcYHTZh9ISeCt2gBlcYreyFt9nduKg0YQ0v7L_NFyBFKTCT1hkZskk_PLY2uheIG7VMZx9NqRd3Nk6BI3nt8ObNxAtOWIeIWTGVO9nWoM/s1600/logo+book+hooks.jpg" /></a></div>
Book Hooks is a once a week Marketing for Romance Authors promote each
other. It's also a great way for the author to share their work and have
their friends get the word out about the group.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>JUST RELEASED</b></span></u> </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoMLlp0164hAmgBZEiwWybG7GHNKe-WcCkH6sSGSo2JvKvtKJa9H6x9k4om4hgDLsiRip9_080N48tOTgSNbF_K_ttq2v16PvvZti9jZ9-p7hZk0_84_Y0B6j9A55whDnyr69QlYnNh2A/s1600/THE+PERFECT+PITCH1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1036" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoMLlp0164hAmgBZEiwWybG7GHNKe-WcCkH6sSGSo2JvKvtKJa9H6x9k4om4hgDLsiRip9_080N48tOTgSNbF_K_ttq2v16PvvZti9jZ9-p7hZk0_84_Y0B6j9A55whDnyr69QlYnNh2A/s320/THE+PERFECT+PITCH1.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>The Perfect Pitch (Seaside Boulevard Series - Book 1)</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><u>BLURB</u></b></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Francine and Richie Ragglio are high school sweethearts. Francine owns
her own real estate business and Richie pitches for the New York
Pelicans. Richie hurts his shoulder while pitching the first game of the
season, not the way he wants to end his career. When Francine is left
an abandoned restaurant from someone from her past, things begin to
spiral out of control. The mystery of a hidden basement brings Francine
and her friends together to do their own investigation, which puts them
in the middle of a smuggling ring. Will Richie's get through his
surgery so he can retire on top of his game? And will Francine and her
friends solve the mystery of the hidden basement?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> <u><b>EXCERPT</b></u></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Richie Raggalio’s name was called over
the PA system. Everyone jumped to their feet clapping, and Francine’s
butterflies hatched in her stomach with excitement for her husband. Richie came
running out of the dugout, tipping his hat as he waved to the crowd. The press
photographers called out to him. He stopped to let them take some pictures.
Before going out to the mound, he walked up to the stands to give Francine a
peck on her lips.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“This
game is for you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Francine
continued clapping and cheering with the crowd along with her friend Amy Mills.
Fifteen years earlier, Richie took the same walk out to the mound, except his
words to her had been, “Wish me luck” before taking his position on the
pitching rubber. Today he stood on the mound, still tall and lean. The only
difference being these days, he sported a crew cut.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Her life as a baseball wife, while
running her own business, had been far from glamorous. Her foster parents had
purchased the business for her after Francine caught them cheating on one
another. Their deceit resulted in them paying for her college education, and giving
her anything she wanted within reason, in exchange for keeping their secret.
Her loyalty to both led her to becoming an entrepreneur.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Let’s
all stand to sing the National Anthem, being sung by local musician, Mike Gio,”
the broadcaster announced.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Francine
kept her eyes on Richie. When she sat next to him in biology lab twenty-five
years ago, her heart had skipped a beat. The first time she watched him
pitching in high school, she had no idea she would become part of his baseball
career. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Richie had spent his whole career playing
for the New York Pelicans. Most games she attended alone, leaving her two
childhood best friends Amy Mills and Toni Belluci to run things at the office.
Looking around at the other players’ girlfriends and wives sitting in the area,
she couldn’t help but laugh to herself. The younger the women were, the higher
the stilettos and shorter the skirts. Francine never fit in with them. When she
wasn’t at work, she pulled her long chestnut colored hair in a ponytail, wore jeans
and, depending on the weather, flip-flops or flats. Today, she wore flats.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">The fans began cheering during the final
words of the National Anthem. Since this was Richie’s last season, she would
cherish the moments spent at the ballpark. This had become her home, her way of
living. The only thing that worried her was what Richie would do with his free
time. He was drafted during his third year of college and spent the next few
years working his way up through the minor-league organization. Since he was a
teen, he had devoted his whole life to his baseball career and her. During the
off-season, Richie volunteered at the high school helping pitchers, which
occupied most of the winter months. Other than that, he didn’t have many other
interests that would keep him from driving her crazy in retirement.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">CLICK HERE TO VISIT MY WEBSITE </a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Perfect-Pitch-Seaside-Boulevard/dp/154525415X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1497214809&sr=8-1&keywords=karen+cino" target="_blank">AVAILABLE THROUGH AMAZON</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/729555" target="_blank">AVAILABLE THROUGH SMASHWORDS</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><br /></span></div>
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Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-80913397037369157732017-06-11T11:39:00.000-04:002017-06-11T11:39:04.348-04:00Tuesday Tales -Word Prompt - Stone
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTJLxQCSOKdlCMWLplN5Lav0Ph9zNMlwLAyuGAlZvppKakT3MZXndwIHNcSFMy9FMrDl1ViSuEafuxGVyuOjo7849hqhBCGzCwqP86-YhcddUro4Z0QZTpRt2ASWTac336Mag2lHJpbTM/s1600/Badge+for+TT+-+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="185" data-original-width="400" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTJLxQCSOKdlCMWLplN5Lav0Ph9zNMlwLAyuGAlZvppKakT3MZXndwIHNcSFMy9FMrDl1ViSuEafuxGVyuOjo7849hqhBCGzCwqP86-YhcddUro4Z0QZTpRt2ASWTac336Mag2lHJpbTM/s320/Badge+for+TT+-+small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Welcome to this week's Tuesday Tales to the word prompt stone. This is an excerpt for my work in progress.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> “Peggy was real sick with meningitis and
was on the road to recovery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
said he just couldn’t throw her out, but promised as soon as she recovered he
would talk to her about finding a place of her own.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
don’t know whose worse, you or him. You both got involved in other
relationships on the rebound.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re
a hundred percent right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was a
fool when I married Bill. You’re right in saying my first marriage was on the
rebound, along with the second one to Alex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t think I ever really loved either one of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hurt both of them when I asked for a
divorce.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
can’t look back.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
don’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then when I was about
to get a second chance with Charlie, I got those damn cards.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Personally,
I think deep down you used the receipt of the cards a a legitimate excuse to
resign </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifuaQI-4wsZkQR-exdJpflakYBkLBUW00d0QGtYpfsB-0dfidssUZTIgJLIGSpqlwOwlw0UN9PFdpjHknZWt-u_-WvbjcIoQjY2aja2230QaX_su9UOHlShWnqGc8iYOx9G5oCdW7ec00/s1600/television+studio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="134" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifuaQI-4wsZkQR-exdJpflakYBkLBUW00d0QGtYpfsB-0dfidssUZTIgJLIGSpqlwOwlw0UN9PFdpjHknZWt-u_-WvbjcIoQjY2aja2230QaX_su9UOHlShWnqGc8iYOx9G5oCdW7ec00/s1600/television+studio.jpg" /></a></div>
from your job at the television studio and run away from your
problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cards thing just
isn’t real.”<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
what made you come to the conclusion?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It
was just a feeling I had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sensed
you lost your drive to go on stake outs and your adrenaline rush for breaking
into places had diminished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
lost something with your breakup with Charlie.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah
I did. I felt as if a part of me had died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that’s over now.” Rachael quickly recovered from her
somber mood. “Things are different, I am different. I am stronger and
successful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I might have given up
one career, but I sure as hell made a great, or shall I say we made a great
comeback.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We
sure as hell did. I’m able to stand on my own.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
don’t think you’ll ever have a problem. You and Gene are there for the long
haul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think you have nothing to
worry about.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re
right.” Leaning across Rachael, Lacy looked out the window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It won’t be long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can see the city in the
distance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We should be arriving in
less than an hour.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
think you’re right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can see the
tall building over the trees.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
know it’s funny, but the close we get to our past, the more I regret coming
here.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Why
is that?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
just get this eerie feeling about coming back that I just can’t explain.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Is
there something you’re not telling me?” Rachael asked concerned.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No.
I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong and I’m just reading too much into Matt’s motives
for having me be a part of his last will and testament.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I just can’t seem to get out of my
mind the reasoning behind this.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m
sure the reason is going to be just as ridiculous as the way he turned your
divorce into.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s just hope he
didn’t leave you with some outstanding debt he never paid bank and you’re being
held liable for.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That
would be my luck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m at a point I
my life that it’s as close to being perfect as it could </span></div>
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possibly be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wouldn’t be surprised if Matt gives
me a zinger from his grave, with the head stone shaking.”<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay,
that’s it, enough of the subject.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Let’s not think about it or else it’s going to drive us crazy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So
what do you purpose we do?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“First
thing to do is check into our hotel and call the hair salon to make
appointments,” Rachael said squirming in her seat.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re
right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think hair, manicure and
pedicure are in order for both of us.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sounds
like a plan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also think tonight
we should grab an early dinner and get a good night’s sleep.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Just
to set the record straight, it’s agreed that no matter what happens we’re out of
here on the last train tomorrow night?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Exactly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The less time we spend in River Lake
Springs, the better off we’ll be.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Rachael
shook her head in agreement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>River
Lake Springs was thing of her past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She would be content in having bad haircuts instead of returning back to
the place she still had a had time forgetting.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Lacy
pushed Rachael’s shoulder. “Hey, stop drifting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is a twenty-four hour gig, so we’re rolling in and out
with limited contact with all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Right?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We agreed on all the specifications
before we left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have to stick
to the itinerary we mapped out.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No
doubt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I promised Gene I would
make sure you returned home in one piece.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Remember?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes
I do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He felt so bad he couldn’t
accompany us.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“At
least if he joined us we wouldn’t be sitting on this train.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead we would be sitting in the
truck with a twelve pack of beer drinking it out of a brown paper bag,” Lacy
giggled.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
it wouldn’t be a first either. Anyway, this turned out to be the better
way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look around,” Rachael circles
her left arm, “this car is practically empty except for that older couple and
their cat in the pink travel bag that occasionally meows down the other end.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re
right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This way neither one of us
had to drive.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The
worst part about the drive is that you have to keep the radio low in order to
hear the radar detector.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
why the train is your best bet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
sit, relax, have a few cocktails and maybe even take a snooze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s no frills, and we save on gas and
tolls.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWsedUACF_FtPFyLCPfjkKAw48UeX4EjXqqZ_ImWj4LXNK6LaJnoC-4AAYESPIYD4ZWlTYAQyybLTY7AXT9wT1SzP6PAkniwmBV0TQD_AhVpQNMHaSEHxa0C9Hkumu_oLzSXKWrV4SHas/s1600/cocktails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="179" data-original-width="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWsedUACF_FtPFyLCPfjkKAw48UeX4EjXqqZ_ImWj4LXNK6LaJnoC-4AAYESPIYD4ZWlTYAQyybLTY7AXT9wT1SzP6PAkniwmBV0TQD_AhVpQNMHaSEHxa0C9Hkumu_oLzSXKWrV4SHas/s1600/cocktails.jpg" /></a></div>
“Alleluia,”
Rachael sang raising her voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Between the two of us, and our nerves, it would’ve been an interesting
trip if we had to drive.”<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Don’t
even get me started again. I’m really nervous about the reading of the will. I
did my tarot cards this morning before we left and they were inconclusive.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Let’s
not worry about anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We’ll
go directly to our hotel and order room service.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
stood up when the train conductor made the announcement they would be arriving
in River Lake Springs within ten minutes. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Are
we ready to confront our demons?” Rachel asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Do
we have any other choice?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
train came to a halt. Rachael and Lacy made their way out of the terminal and
into the cocktail lounge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their
original itinerary had already been broken.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<a href="http://tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">RETURN TO TUESDAY TALES </span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
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Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-2564696793021938512017-06-04T11:35:00.000-04:002017-06-06T13:22:52.538-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Book Hooks is a once a week Marketing for Romance Authors promote each other. It's also a great way for the author to share their work and have their friends get the word out about the group.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><b>BLURB</b></u></div>
<br />
After the untimely death of her husband in the line of duty, Nikki
Petrino still grieving three years later, goes on retreat to Mexico to
finish her novel, where she meets musician Drake Dente a 90’s rock icon
working on lyrics for his comeback CD. After meeting at dinner, Drake
and Nikki can’t keep their eyes off each other. Sparks fly and they
instantly became an item. Upon returning to New York for Nikki’s high
school reunion, she learns shocking events from her best friends. After a
misunderstanding, Nikki is missing and Drake is desperate to find her.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><b>EXCERPT</b></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
As he approached her, she felt a tingle travel throughout her body.</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
He took her hands in his. "Over the past couple of months, there
was a void in my life. Then, one night, not that long ago, I met a
woman. She was intelligent, caring and compassionate and couldn't
care less who I was. There was just something about this woman that I
couldn't get out of my mind. I've dated a lot of women in my time.
Never did I experience the feelings I felt when I was with her. You
see, love…" He wiped her eyes, lifting her chin up till their
eyes met. "That woman is you. I love you."</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
"There's no such thing as love at first sight."</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
"Oh yes, there is." He looked at her with a twinkle in his
eyes, which made her knees wobble. "Are you going to deny it?"</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
How could she when he was right? Her life had been empty for years.
She had been so caught up in her own self-pity she couldn't write or
go on a date without comparing. Drake had changed that, brought her
back on course. She slipped her hand out of his and ran her fingers
softly down his cheek.</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.3in;">
AVAILABLE IN PAPERBACK AT: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Roses-Karen-Cino/dp/1518812155/ref=sr_1_16?ie=UTF8&qid=1496589167&sr=8-16&keywords=karen+cino" target="_blank">AMAZON</a> * <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Roses-Karen-Cino-ebook/dp/B016FQME38/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1496589167&sr=8-5&keywords=karen+cino" target="_blank">KINDLE</a> * <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/575939" target="_blank">SMASHWORDS</a></div>
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<a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">CLICK HERE TO VISIT MY WEBSITE </a></div>
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Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-82723535545164230452017-06-04T10:45:00.003-04:002017-06-04T10:45:50.314-04:00Tuesday Tales - Word Prompt Purple<style>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Welcome to this weeks Tuesday Tales to the word prompt purple. This is the continuation of my new WIP. This is a rough draft so I apology for any errors.<br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Rachael
couldn’t help but laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It always
had been the same thing between the two of them all these years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whenever they got stressed out they
would announce “cocktail time” and would indulge in cocktails and sugary snacks
for a quick fix.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A
martini would be exactly what the doctor ordered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her nerves were starting to get the bet of her about
returning to her hometown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>City
living had been a thing of the past now that she had fully </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPTMENZLttha-M1hk2872bdMt1_X4nsrYWx5dATaTu5Pgch76Rwp6AudQ1wWiD9ah12esHt6sSsas_WyVb_xOK011rUc2gLqnvATTeRzH6BeaRS7feH0Fd-VRPDNtPXPpmovsQWdtrz_Q/s1600/Martini_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="254" data-original-width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPTMENZLttha-M1hk2872bdMt1_X4nsrYWx5dATaTu5Pgch76Rwp6AudQ1wWiD9ah12esHt6sSsas_WyVb_xOK011rUc2gLqnvATTeRzH6BeaRS7feH0Fd-VRPDNtPXPpmovsQWdtrz_Q/s1600/Martini_2.jpg" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">adapted to a slower
environment. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
transformation from city life to country life had been tough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were plenty of times when she
wanted to get into her car, come back home and reclaim the life she once had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things were different in Crown Royal
and she had changed along with the little town.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Lacy
had been her godsend. She moved up to Crown Royal close to seven years ago when
her boyfriend, now her husband’s company relocated.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In
the beginning, Lacy drove her crazy, calling her more than a dozen times a day crying,
saying how much she hated it there, but as the months passed by, Lacy
changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She spoke about Crown
Royal like it was a tropical paradise, begging her to take a long awaited
vacation and come spend some time with her. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Rachael
put the vacation off for another two years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day after she received the tarot cards, she took Lacy up
on her offer, never looking back.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We’re
all set,” Lacy announced handing Rachael an oversized martini glass. “Let me
tell you, you should’ve seen the look on the bartender’s face when I asked for
a triple.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
could just imagine.” Rachael held up her glass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“To our return.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To our return,” Lacy agreed as they
clanged glasses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lacy took a sip
before sitting back down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ve
got to do something about my hair while we’re here.” She pushed her bronze
colored bangs out of her eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“One thing’s for sure, you can’t get a good haircut out in the country.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Then,”
Rachael said raising her glass again, “To the hair salons in River Lake
Springs.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Both
women laughed as once again they clanked glasses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed like only yesterday that Lacy spend every weekend
at her house either by her pool or dining room table clanking glasses at every
possible scenario, and discussing their most passionate secrets, desires and fears
to one another.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Do
you ever regret giving up your job t the television studio?” Lacy asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What
makes you ask that after all these years?” Rachael rolled her olive eyes and
added, “You know the answer to that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I loved my job, however, it was the price I had to pay to revamp my
life.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
revamp we did.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gave up one successful
career and within five years we’ve become forty-something entrepreneurs.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It
was our dream that we always talked about. Opening the New Age Candle and Gift
Shop has made us independent women.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It
had taken them months to get all the merchandise they needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides buying religious </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-TnEwCEC_KIZSf7tJbL7FcMdjwzz73TeNNMOUW1Yog4W3hbtOKm_EC7oeiZC8iJhhgGXkIuUPCXFCsO6UgkmHT3vvVXcrBAp_WxHSUAkiiVFMU4qfxHpCawYn9y4KXPABV5_7OOb0l2s/s1600/purple+candles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1281" data-original-width="1600" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-TnEwCEC_KIZSf7tJbL7FcMdjwzz73TeNNMOUW1Yog4W3hbtOKm_EC7oeiZC8iJhhgGXkIuUPCXFCsO6UgkmHT3vvVXcrBAp_WxHSUAkiiVFMU4qfxHpCawYn9y4KXPABV5_7OOb0l2s/s320/purple+candles.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">figures they
had colored candles, especially the purple ones she loved, incense and a full supply of holistic candles and oils.
All their greeting cards were handmade as well as any holiday decorations. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes
it has.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Lacy
took another sip of her martini and crossed her lean legs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I have a question to ask you I know
you aren’t going to like.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Then
don’t ask.” Rachael looked at Lacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When their gazed met, Lacy grinning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Go ahead, I know you’re going to ask anyway.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“How
well you know me. “But I want to be better able to prepare myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So,” she began clearing her throat and
turning sideways in her seat, “I just want to know what effect this trip will
have on you if you run into Charlie?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s
been over five years Lacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
quite set I my ways and don’t foresee myself falling off the wagon if I see
Charlie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now can we change the
subject?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They
rode in silence before Lacy leaned over her and pointed out the window. “We’re
getting closer to the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
farms have turned into factories.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah
and look at the smog,” Rachael added.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I can’t believe we were able to breath.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
I’m still trying to figure out why I’m included in the reading of the will and
what the hell is waiting for me when I get to the attorney’s office.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This whole will thing is
absurd.” Nodding, Rachel concluded, “Leave it to your ex-husband to cause a
rumpus from the grave.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
can say that again,” Lacy agreed shrugging her shoulders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You know what I love best, the fact
that at different stages in our lives we jumped ship without looking back.”
Closing her caramel colored eyes, she hesitated a moment before opening them in
a smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We both turned our lives
around and built a company from a fragment of an idea we came up many years
ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To think we did that in less
than five years.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We
worked hard to get where we’re at today, despite the monetary beating we took
in the beginning getting the story up and running, but we stood together and
did it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes
we did. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You refused to give up and never lost
faith.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
right,” Rachael said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This was an
important venture for both of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I thing we needed to do this to prove to ourselves we could survive.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Absolutely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gave up on men and never thought I’d
eve be happy again or get involved in a relationship until I met Gene.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Smiling she continued, “I found a
warmness and sincerity in him I never had with Matt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took me a long time to forget the pain I endured during
my marriage. I made the right decision when I married Gene.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Without
a doubt.” Rachael tucked the cards back into the pocket of her wallet and
crossed </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK4hNELpT-socLtfWb_b_7Z8ThyIGVY7DYmsKKPD2wadhYjr5flJsrXvLVjP-5FRFaOUVhGmVUNsNKETRpEIMMuYjsKKk0TeJpDkZAGnBaq8rEr9kDLWcsxEcCEN-jJG8wFH8HkpHdeWE/s1600/death+and+tower+tarot+card.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="428" data-original-width="570" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK4hNELpT-socLtfWb_b_7Z8ThyIGVY7DYmsKKPD2wadhYjr5flJsrXvLVjP-5FRFaOUVhGmVUNsNKETRpEIMMuYjsKKk0TeJpDkZAGnBaq8rEr9kDLWcsxEcCEN-jJG8wFH8HkpHdeWE/s320/death+and+tower+tarot+card.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">her arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He welcomed me
into your house with open arms and supported me through my whole ordeal. I don’t
think I would’ve made it without the two of you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Our
friendship is golden and we’ve both supported each other through the best and
worst of times.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
hate to bring this up again but you really never confided in me what happened
between you and Charlie.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
never told you because I never knew what happened.” Closing her eyes she
concentrated hard and whispered, “It was those damn cards. He told me he loved
me and I was the love of his life.” Sigh. “He apologized for making a mistake
and moving Peggy in with him when we had broke up for few months. He said he
cared about her, but wasn’t in love with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He asked me to give him more time, just a few more weeks.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<a href="http://tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">RETURN TO TUESDAY TALES</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">VISIT MY WEBSITE</a> </span></div>
Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-10170191468372152892017-05-21T20:51:00.002-04:002017-05-21T20:51:53.883-04:00Tuesday Tales - Word Prompt - Staple
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTJLxQCSOKdlCMWLplN5Lav0Ph9zNMlwLAyuGAlZvppKakT3MZXndwIHNcSFMy9FMrDl1ViSuEafuxGVyuOjo7849hqhBCGzCwqP86-YhcddUro4Z0QZTpRt2ASWTac336Mag2lHJpbTM/s1600/Badge+for+TT+-+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTJLxQCSOKdlCMWLplN5Lav0Ph9zNMlwLAyuGAlZvppKakT3MZXndwIHNcSFMy9FMrDl1ViSuEafuxGVyuOjo7849hqhBCGzCwqP86-YhcddUro4Z0QZTpRt2ASWTac336Mag2lHJpbTM/s320/Badge+for+TT+-+small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Welcome to this week's edition of Tuesday Tales. This week I'm sharing with you the opening to my new WIP. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">This will be your outcome if you don’t
stay away from Charlie.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These words encrypted on two tarot cars
had not only haunted her, but had changed the course of her life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Five
years later…</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>On
a train en route to River Lake Springs, Rachael Ragazzi opened the zipper
compartment of her wallet and pulled out back-to-back tarot cards stapled together, where these
harsh words were written.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>To
this day it still amazed her how she let these two cards change her fate,
causing her to make the biggest mistake of her life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Making such a brash decision in packing it in and leaving
River Lake Springs without thinking things through, had gotten the best of
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why would she let tow tarot
cards change the direction of her life?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For Christ sake they were only an Italian card game, not a course of
living. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBrrAW2KiRXfWkZKm2_ZfbEJUOO_uTNN0Niak08S4-_fj-rl6efVoJjCXMTVD41U-QbIvkUQU9ibg1_pn1gE27SLisaUAUniX5wE0uuwkDqlBPIKehJeIt9RdNfByNIs_8JQl3Xe0IT40/s1600/basic_death.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBrrAW2KiRXfWkZKm2_ZfbEJUOO_uTNN0Niak08S4-_fj-rl6efVoJjCXMTVD41U-QbIvkUQU9ibg1_pn1gE27SLisaUAUniX5wE0uuwkDqlBPIKehJeIt9RdNfByNIs_8JQl3Xe0IT40/s320/basic_death.jpg" width="184" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thinking
back to when she told Lacy, she remember Lacy reassuring he that whoever sent
the cards apparently was an absolute imbecile with no knowledge of the
underlying meaning of the Rider-Waite Tarot Deck or any tarot deck for that matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, this person was smart, taping
the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tower Card</i> and the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Death Card</i> back to back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tower Card,</i> the number one was written and below it in lipstick red
said, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“This is what’s to come.”</i>
Turning the card over Rachael started at the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Death Card</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On it,
written in the same red lipstick was the number two and below it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this will be your outcome if you don’t stay
way from Charlie.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Rachael still
got an unsettling feeling whenever she looked at the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tower Card.</i> The card represented destruction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a dark and dreary card with a
lightening bolt that hit the top of the towel knocking the top off, while
flames quickly blazed throughout.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There were two people falling from the tower and on one of them her name
was written in blood red ink.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Chills
ran through her body when she flipped the card over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now knowing much about the tarot, she surmised the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Death Card</i> meant that someone was out to
kill her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The card displayed an
armored, skeletal figure riding a white horse holding a flag, with dead flowers
and a king, child and maiden falling in front of him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It frightened her beyond belief that two cards had been the
deciding factor in her final decision to leave. </span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When
Rachael calmed down, Lacy explained to her that the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Death Card</i> in a tarot reading was a good card.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Death
</i>meant the end of one stage in your life and the beginning of another.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She
thought back to the day she packed he things and took off to Lacy’s house in
Crown Royal, a three hour drive to upstate New York.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That day was the turning point in her life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day she had made the decision to
start over again, which began with her changing her cell phone number and
deleting her Facebook account.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It
nearly killed her leaving behind all that meant the world to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What could have possessed her to be
scared off by two tarot game cards? She had turned her life upside down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tears accompanied her every night bed
ritual, which consisted of a prayer to Saint Anthony, a brief summary of her
day in her journal and kissing Charlie’s picture good night.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Why
did she walk away from the one man who had captivated her heart and soothed her
soul? How could she have left without any explanation?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her motto out of sight, out of mind
just wasn’t cutting it anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She thought she’d get over time, but never did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was always popping up in her
everyday thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All it would
take was hearing a song and Charlie’s image would appear.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Taking
a deep breath Rachael gazed out the train window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She couldn’t believe she had volunteered to return back to
her hometown of River Lake Springs, New York with Lacy for the reading of
Lacy’s ex-husbands will.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What
were her chances of running into Charlie?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And what would she do if she did?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This was something she had dreamed about all these years. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just thinking about him, sent chills
through her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fact of the
matter she never stopped loving him and hoped somehow someway she would run
into hi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then, there were
still those damn tarot cards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Every time she thought about calling him, </span></div>
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she would think about the
cards and talk herself out of it. Or was she using the cards as an excuse to
keep her life stagnant. <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hey,
I thought you got rid of those five years ago,” Lacy said pointing t the cards.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
lied,” she frowned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I wanted to
get rid of them, but something just wouldn’t let me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Lacy
took the cards from her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I would
love to find out who sent them.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah,
me too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve never been the
same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must be crazy walking away
from my life over two cards.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“However,
only good came from the cards.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Lacy grinned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Those cards
drove you straight to Crown Royal where you’ve become a successful
businesswoman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fate has a funny
way of playing games.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re
right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve come a long
way.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Putting her head down she
concluded, “I never thought I would get back on track, especially after my
disastrous marriage to Mitch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thank God I was able to get a quick divorce.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
what happens when you make rash decisions without thinking.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Rachael
took her cards back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And that’s
what good friends are for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
helped me through one of the most devastating time in my life.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
what we’re all about,” she nodded. “And on that note, I’m going to find the
restroom and inquire if there is a bar car on this train.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Holding
up her cell phone, Rachael said, “Call me if there is and I’ll meet you
thee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sure can go for a
martini.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Lacy
stood up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m sure you can, and a
double at that.”</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-70528306139649846762017-05-19T16:33:00.002-04:002017-05-19T16:33:33.761-04:00Tuesday Tales Bookstore<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuHhyjUpqJTQYhnejwRKkiTzGPgyJ407V7Cxw40-iTACilZm1N6NmxjOcwk6nrl-TtB2o2MkXXQq20cdqr-cbDXIYZVNUzkGBK3bAN0NDfhQYcOFSEdYk_3ojiKfH3WAS1LKgajvCK1Pk/s1600/Tuesday+Tales+Bookstore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuHhyjUpqJTQYhnejwRKkiTzGPgyJ407V7Cxw40-iTACilZm1N6NmxjOcwk6nrl-TtB2o2MkXXQq20cdqr-cbDXIYZVNUzkGBK3bAN0NDfhQYcOFSEdYk_3ojiKfH3WAS1LKgajvCK1Pk/s320/Tuesday+Tales+Bookstore.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Welcome to our first Tuesday Tales Bookstore post. This week I'm going to share with you Wild Pitch with is a baseball novella.<br />
<br />
<u><b>THE WILD PITCH</b></u><br />
<br />
<u>Blurb</u>: Pia Tallisico loves baseball, she loves the New York Pelicans. On a solo
trip to the ballpark she meets Pelican relief pitcher, Lorenzo Marcus,
which causes an instant spark between them. As the season progresses, so
does their relationship. When a secret Pia buried away slowly unravels,
an additional unknown deceitful twist arises. Will Pia's secret cause
Lorenzo to walk away from the only woman he ever loved?<br />
<br />
<u><b>Excerpt</b> </u> <style><!--
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">The game went by quickly, being played in
a little over two hours. Her team the New York Pelicans won by the score one to
nothing. Games like this, wound up taking more time traveling than the actual
time she sat there. Pia got herself a cup of coffee from the vendor cart before
making her way through the crowd back to her car. Since she had been so late,
thanks to the extra heavy traffic, the only parking spots left were in the back
of the stadium. She hated parking in the back lot, as it always took longer to
get out of the parking lot.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Pia got into her car, carefully placing
the coffee cup in the holder. Next she reapplied her bronze lipstick onto her
plump lips before sliding the key into the ignition. She turned the key and nothing.
She turned it again to the same silence. Oh boy, this meant disaster. Getting
out of the car, she looked around the lot. Most of the cars in the area were already
gone. Since she came to the game by herself, this had turned into a huge
problem.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">She decided her best course of action was
to return back into the stadium to seek help. Under her breath she cursed. Why
had she kept putting off renewing her roadside service for only fifty dollars a
year? Now she had to hope someone would be able to help her, at least get the
car started, so she could get herself home.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">She locked the car. As she turned to walk
back toward the stadium, she heard someone call out, “Miss.” Pia turned around.
Walking toward her was a tall, muscular man with dirty blond hair, dressed in
jeans and a white buttoned down cotton shirt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I see you have a problem with your car,”
the blue eyed stranger said. “I thought I’d stop to see if there’s anything I
could help you with before I go home.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Pia turned and pointed at her car. “I
don’t know what’s wrong with it. It just won’t start.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Let me try.” He held out his hand.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Pia placed the heart shaped keychain in
his hand. She watched him get into her car. He tried numerous times starting
it, to no avail.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Do you live close by here?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">“No. I live in Staten Island.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Hmm.” He shook his head. “Let me start
by introducing myself.” He held out his hand. “I’m Lorenzo Marcus.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Pia shook it. “I’m Pia Tallisico. Are you
a fan?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Lorenzo chuckled. “Yes I’m a fan. I
wouldn’t mind helping you out.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Pia thought for a few minutes. “Lorenzo
Marcus. You just came up from Triple A ball.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">“That’s me,” he grinned. “I can arrange
to have your car taken care of tomorrow. I have no problem giving you a ride
home.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I don’t know about that,” Pia shook her
head. “That’s a lot for a stranger to ask another to do for them.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Not a problem. I’d like to take you out
for dinner.” Lorenzo took his cell phone out of his back pocket. “Give me a few
minutes to call my brother, who’s a mechanic. He’ll take care of everything. If
it isn’t anything major, he might have it ready by tomorrow afternoon.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">WILD PITCH IS AVAILABLE ON AMAZON. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Wild-Pitch-Karen-Cino-ebook/dp/B01L7ZY0ES/ref=sr_1_7?ie=UTF8&qid=1495224181&sr=8-7&keywords=karen+cino" target="_blank">CLICK HERE.</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">EPUB Nook, Itunes, Kobo, Sono reader and tables. <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/655592" target="_blank">CLICK HERE</a>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">BACK TO TUESDAY TALES </a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">MY WEBSITE</a></span></div>
Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-23609266079422727642017-05-15T18:47:00.002-04:002017-05-15T18:47:32.944-04:00Tuesday Tales Picture Prompt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Welcome to this weeks edition of Tuesday Tales Picture Prompt. This is an excerpt from my new cozy mystery novella series. </div>
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--</style>Connie walked into her brand new kitchen and placed two
plastic shopping bags full of baking products onto the kitchen counter. It had
taken Pete, the handyman close to two weeks to complete taking half of the two-car
garage and turning it into a baker’s kitchen. Today was about the finishing
touches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Taking her wooden spoons
out of the bag, she used her wooden garlic press as a utensil holder.</div>
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Moving to her best friend Sara’s house, in an adult
community after her divorce had been a big decision, but one she had to make if
she were to move on with her life. She had to start over again, with the first
step leaving Staten Island and all her ties behind. </div>
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Starting a business had been both Connie and Sara’s dream
since they were teenagers. There entrepreneur idea went out the window when
they both had gotten married and raised a family. Now twenty something years
later, they were both betrayed by their husbands and were in a position to
start the second half of their life building on their original dream. Sara’s
talent of creating handmade dishes would house Connie’s cookies when they
officially starting selling. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Connie spent the first few weeks living at Sara’s baking
cookies, cakes and pastries and leaving samples for the people in the
community. She had received many orders, and now with her fully stocked kitchen
she would be able sell more.</div>
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Since Connie moved down to the Jersey Shore, Sara was trying
her best to fix her up with one of the younger men in the community. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One man in particular had captured her
eye. Could this be her second chance?</div>
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<a href="http://tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">RETURN TO TUESDAY TALES HERE</a><br />
<a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">VISIT MY WEBSITE</a><br />
<br />Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-75940130645797176192017-04-23T17:43:00.001-04:002017-04-23T17:43:40.385-04:00Tuesday Tales - Word Prompt - Life
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Welcome to this weeks edition to Tuesday Tales. It sure feels good to be back. This is the continuation of my WIP, which I am tying up in the weeks to come. </div>
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Jill gasped when she walked into Umberto’s Restaurant dining
room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the far corner of the
room was a table filled with all different colored wild blowers. The hostess
led them to the table next to the one with the flowers. Jill was happy that she
hadn’t prematurely comment on them. That would have been one of the most
embarrassing moments she had with Robbie. But she was wrong.</div>
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Robbie pulled her chair out for her and waited for her to
sit before taking the seat across from her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I hope you like the flowers.”</div>
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Jill lifted her hand to her lips before her lips broke into
a huge smile. “I can’t believe these are all for me.”</div>
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“And there’s still more to come.” Robbie directed his gaze
to the hostess. “I would like a bottle of champagne and fresh fruit to start
the evening.”</div>
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“Fresh fruit? I’d think that would come after the main
course.”</div>
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“It usually does. But with the champagne I ordered, fresh
fruit jumpstarts the pallet.”</div>
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Jill scanned the room. She had been to this restaurant when
she was in college. The funny part was the décor, all these years later still
looked the same. What really surprised her was how Little Italy shrunk. Back in
the day, Little Italy spanned over at least a mile radius. Now, if there were a
few blocks it would be a lot. This had always been the place to go clothing
shopping when she was in her early twenties. Glancing over Robbie’s shoulder,
she couldn’t help but zero in on the orange flowers. He apparently went to a
lot of trouble to make this night special for her. </div>
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“I can’t tell you enough, how much I love the flowers. I’ll
never be able to get these all home.”</div>
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“I didn’t expect you to. I asked the owner to deliver them
to the women’s shelter down the block when we leave.” Robbie turned around in
his chair and took the same flower that Jill had been looking at.</div>
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“How did you know?” she asked, taking the flower he held out
to her.</div>
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“You haven’t taken your eyes off it.” Robbie reached over
the table and rested his hand on her. “Never in my life have I ever met a woman who gets so
excited over the littlest things.”</div>
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“I’ve never been a material woman. Don’t get me wrong I love
having the very best money can buy, but just like everything else, it
eventually breaks and all that’s left is the same ashes.”</div>
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Robbie lifted his hand off hers and reached up and touched
her cheek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m falling in the
love with you.”</div>
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Jill’s mouth dropped open. This was the last thing she
expected to hear. Even thought she felt the same way, she wanted to try her
best to keep her feelings hidden. Taking things any further then a few kisses
would mean disaster, especially if things didn’t work out and they weren’t
physically compatible. </div>
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“You seem surprised at my admission.”</div>
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“Very much so.”</div>
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“Are you going to tell me what you’re feeling?” Robbie
asked.</div>
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“I don’t know if I can. I’m coming out of a bad relationship
slash marriage, met you and you offered me a great job and opportunity. I’ve
been trying to separate business from pleasure. I know what happens when you
mix the two together. As soon as one goes soar, the other one is right behind.”</div>
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The waiter brought over the bottle of champagne and fresh
fruit. He placed the fruit on the table, popped open the champagne and poured. </div>
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“Before I answer you, I’d like to make a toast.” He held up
his flute glass. “I know this is all happening fast, however, I have never felt
like this before. I know this is all happening quite fast, but I know we can
make this work. To us.” They clanked glasses.</div>
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“I’m not sure–”</div>
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Robbie covered her lips with his finger. “The television
show is expected to exceed its original numbers. The producer is happy with the
episodes you have written. If we get the audience we’re expecting, then I’m
hoping that we get signed for another season.”</div>
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Jill lifted the flute glass up to her lips and took a sip.
Slowly, she brought the glass back down to the table. “I’m…feeling the same.
I’m just scared. Scared to let me feeling and emotions go.”</div>
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“Let them go. You have nothing to fear.” Robbie reached
across the table to take her hands in his. “What I found in you, I’ve been
searching for my whole entire life. Together we are magical. Give me that chance
to prove it.”</div>
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Jill lifted her gaze to meet Robbie’s. He played around with
something in his pocket. Her mind went in all different directions. They only
knew each other for a couple of weeks. But Robbie was right. It sure as hell
felt magical. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">RETURN TO TUESDAY TALES</a></div>
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<a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">VISIT MY WEBSITE </a></div>
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Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-83929365823076423862017-02-12T17:20:00.000-05:002017-02-12T17:20:03.441-05:00Tuesday Tales - Word Prompt Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Welcome to this weeks edition of Tuesday Tales. Happy Valentine's Day to all of you!<br />
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Robbie had a limousine waiting for their trip into Manhattan
to get Jill heavier winter clothes. Since she returned to the east coast, she
was still adjusting to the winter weather. Robbie brought her to top line designer
shops in the garment district. Finding her size was a challenge, since
everything had been marked down to make room for the spring line. Jill wound up
getting three pairs of dress boots,</div>
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two pairs of shoes and winter handbags to
match. Most of her handbags were either white, ivory, tan or beach bags so it
was refreshing to broaden her color spectrum along with heavy wool and cashmere
sweaters.<br />
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Their last stop was to grab a cup of coffee at Starbucks
before heading to the office for the meeting Robbie had set up with the
producer and other writers. As soon as the elevator doors to the office opened Gary
Nelson was waiting for them at the reception desk with a bottle of water in his
hand.</div>
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“Jill, so nice to see you again. Come, follow me to the
conference room.” He reached his hand out to shake Robbie’s. “Nice going, bro.
You’ve found us a gem.” They walked into the conference room where Jill and
Robbie sat down opposite the folder on the table.</div>
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“I’ve enjoyed all the scenes you wrote. The flow of the
characters are natural and I’m loving where you’re taking it.” Gary opened the
folder in front of him. “The only problem I have is with the </div>
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amount of
different scenes you have here. I really want to keep the cost of the sets down
until we are certain that the network picks us up for a second season.”<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Robbie spoke to me about that earlier. I was thinking we
could eliminate a few of the sets if we taped outside. I was thinking of a few
scenes in Central Park.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I like how that sounds. Do you think you can make the
adjustments and have them ready for me by early next week?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sure I can.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Perfect.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the next hour, Jill met with two of the other writers to
go over scenes and how they were going to intertwine the plots. By the time
they finished, Jill had made a few pages of notes on what she needed to do when
she got home. She had the perfect idea on how to make the changes to the
script. It would just be a little tweaking here and there and some rewriting.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robbie squeezed her knee under the table. She glared at him
and smiled. Ten minutes later Robbie led her out of the building and back into
the limo. The seat opposite them was packed with bags. In less than three hours
she had purchased a brand new winter wardrobe.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you know what today is?” Robbie asked smiling.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes. It’s Thursday.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t mean that. Driver can you stop at the next corner?”
Robbie asked. The car came to a halt. “You wait here. I’ll be right back. I
forgot to buy something.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Robbie got out of the car, Jill turned the radio on
low. She looked around and couldn’t imagine where Robbie had gone. The limo
door opened and Robbie slid back in with a dozen red roses and a big red heart.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, handing them to Jill. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh my God.” Jill said as she took the flowers and candy
from Robbie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I totally forgot
with everything going on. “Thank you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’re evening has just begun. Our next stop is dinner in
Little Italy.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’re never going to get a table. It’s…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN1G2i8DuYjqOyiYCHMPcrehKVDbYe7aJ4_PDib2PvCtkkWW5Ob8qxifsc9yAsvaXam1sB5hZLKtmbCsCS7sXRad4Uk3NQ9f_GpOo3uwilYN43pt_LoQ9ObLk6Zj7_4NbFWhEEvF6a620/s1600/Happy+Valentine%2527s+Day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN1G2i8DuYjqOyiYCHMPcrehKVDbYe7aJ4_PDib2PvCtkkWW5Ob8qxifsc9yAsvaXam1sB5hZLKtmbCsCS7sXRad4Uk3NQ9f_GpOo3uwilYN43pt_LoQ9ObLk6Zj7_4NbFWhEEvF6a620/s1600/Happy+Valentine%2527s+Day.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s been all arranged.” They pulled up in front of
Umberto’s. The driver opened the door and she slid out after Robbie. “I want
tonight to be perfect.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Being here with you is all I need. You have done so much
for me today. You bought me all these beautiful clothes, then the roses and
chocolate and now this. I can’t believe how lucky I am.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robbie chuckled. “You haven’t seen anything yet. You’re
going to love what I have planned for the evening.” Before they walked into the
restaurant, Robbie kissed her softly on her lips. “Tonight is all about you and
all about love.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"> RETURN TO TUESDAY TALES</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">VISIT MY WEBSITE</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Just released, my book of Love Poems. You can purchase it <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Love-Poems-Karen-Cino/dp/1542803837/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1486937863&sr=8-3&keywords=karen+cino" target="_blank">HERE</a><br /><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-65456311314377816662017-02-05T14:48:00.002-05:002017-02-05T14:48:30.406-05:00Tuesday Tales - Word Prompt - Metal
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Welcome to this weeks edition of Tuesday Tales to the word prompt metal. This is my work in progress that is still untitled. Make sure you stop to read the other wonderful stories from a great group of writers. </div>
<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Jill stepped back out of Robbie’s embrace. The thought of
this going any further spelled disaster. Mixing business with pleasure never
worked when the relationship went south. The only thing that could come out of this
was her being on the unemployment line. It was literary impossible to work
along side someone after you slept with them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What’s wrong?” Robbie asked, pulling Jill back into his
arms.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t want to ruin what we have.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’re not going to,” he said, staring deep into her eyes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAbw2f3O2oSK1Ys6lqOBuRLAQpAifvok78FT3T-57LHJs3nxlW8RCPZrFAc66hp3GRAeqJWPK86J8culiY2l26N-trN1vRve6UYffxVoA8x6WwEQgVwjWZYf8D4TQgCqzg15vD-xPCliY/s1600/2+coffee+cups.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAbw2f3O2oSK1Ys6lqOBuRLAQpAifvok78FT3T-57LHJs3nxlW8RCPZrFAc66hp3GRAeqJWPK86J8culiY2l26N-trN1vRve6UYffxVoA8x6WwEQgVwjWZYf8D4TQgCqzg15vD-xPCliY/s1600/2+coffee+cups.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m not ready to get involved in anything heavy. I just got
divorce and I’m trying to find myself.” Jill dropped her hands into his. “I
lost a part of me when my husband’s past discrepancies caught up with him and
slapped me in the face.” This time tears trickled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry
for being so emotional.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robbie wiped her tears away with his fingers. “It’s okay to
be emotional. I like you. I like you a lot. Take your time getting to know
yourself because once you do, this,” he pointed back and forth between the two
of them, “will still be there. I knew it from the moment I met you. You’re
worth the wait.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jill leaned into him and kissed his cheek. “It’s going to be
hard to resist you. I’m going to have to treat us like a character in the sitcom.
But I hate that sexual tension thing because the audience always knows that
they will wind up together. I want the heroine to be strong, knowing herself
before she gets to know anybody else.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I like how I feel when I’m around you. You make me feel alive.
Damn, I know exactly how you’re feeling. I felt the same way four years ago
when my marriage ended. It took me some time to find myself. Divorce is hard.
The wound will eventually heal with time.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m hope so.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLoggZqBBGUkNgsEeQ7mfgUbUBK80l7xQX7KTMHGJkIcdtvz6FOZV1QJw20j_RMwWtUGNQqJG5iVExnmxaLT0y5kiDkQ064YB1QFA7fuq3g66wIEryCItQneJj-p_Sb2hxRhYjojxRAoI/s1600/script+formular.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLoggZqBBGUkNgsEeQ7mfgUbUBK80l7xQX7KTMHGJkIcdtvz6FOZV1QJw20j_RMwWtUGNQqJG5iVExnmxaLT0y5kiDkQ064YB1QFA7fuq3g66wIEryCItQneJj-p_Sb2hxRhYjojxRAoI/s200/script+formular.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How about we have another cup of coffee and work on the script?
I want to discuss the setting a bit.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes.” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That would be
the perfect distraction.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The producer has starting working on the set. He feels
something is missing,” Robbie said, pouring the coffee.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I agree with him. I think besides the set we should do some
outdoor shooting, especially in Central Park.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You think that will work?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sure it will. I’ll have to do some readjusting on the
script, but I truly believe that people love watching outdoor scenes. When I
watch <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blue Blood</i>, I love that I
recognize places. I’d love to look at the restaurants, cafes, coffee houses and
stores around the area.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I have to bring you down to the studio. Wait to you see
what the set producers can create.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jill took a sip of her coffee. “Where’s the studio?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“In Williamsburg. It’s an old warehouse with brick walls and
a metal ceiling that the owner put up for </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlT8KY-KZlG57JxPPtUchrX9MHMpz3ZlGJn1lfAWUuagRbg6YJ-oJuAC-KRiL1wbsQZqgw36fCDBqlfD9pf1kv15gXZFm-Yd2DfMRYsZA_O9-yeEoRCZL4j2FVWa4JXff9CTP2b5hEvws/s1600/prop+room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlT8KY-KZlG57JxPPtUchrX9MHMpz3ZlGJn1lfAWUuagRbg6YJ-oJuAC-KRiL1wbsQZqgw36fCDBqlfD9pf1kv15gXZFm-Yd2DfMRYsZA_O9-yeEoRCZL4j2FVWa4JXff9CTP2b5hEvws/s320/prop+room.jpg" width="311" /></a></div>
sale. The executive producer scooped
it up and has the staff working on rooms. I have a copy of the blueprint they
are working on. Give me a minute, I’ll fetch it.”<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jill sat back in the high kitchen chair, dangling her feet.
She wondered if Robbie would take her idea of outdoor shooting seriously. In
episode five, she could see the two lead characters running through the park,
going from the west side to the east side along the lake. It would add depth to
the scene versus the characters walking room to room or up and down the stairs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Here you go,” Robbie said, unrolling the blueprint and
placing it down on the kitchen counter.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jill stood, joining Robbie at the counter. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“These are the four rooms we have created. At the office
they have a three dimensional version on the computer.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I can’t wait to see it,” Jill said, catching Robbie’s gaze.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why don’t we head into the city, get you some warm clothes,
and then we’ll head over to the office. I’ll give Ted a call letting him know
we’re stopping by, giving you a chance to tell him your idea. Then on the way
home, we’ll stop in Williamsburg so I can show you the studio.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That sounds great. Just give me a half hour to get myself
together.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“A half hour? That’s quick.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m not a diva.” Jill laughed. “I’ll meet you back here.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robbie walked her to the door. “Just come in when you’re
ready.” He opened the back door, and before she walked out, he gave her a soft
kiss in her lips.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">RETURN TO TUESDAY TALES</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">VISIT MY WEBSITE </a></div>
Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-60847717961429840482017-01-30T20:53:00.000-05:002017-01-30T20:53:57.841-05:00Tuesday Tales - Word Prompt - Track<style>
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Welcome to this weeks edition of Tuesday Tales. We are continuing with the story of Jill and Robbie.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That night, Jill lay in bed for the longest time not being
able to fall asleep. She had come back to New York with a plan, which consisted
of getting a job, finding a place to live and finally working on her memoir.
But instead, the plane wasn’t even twenty minutes off the ground when she met
Robbie, landing herself a job before she even got off the plane. She had to
keep her life on track. Meeting Robbie derailed her original plan. Renting the
cottage from Robbie made the transition to New York much smoother. But falling
for him was the last thing on her list. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>~</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Good morning,” Jill sang, walking into Robbie’s kitchen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkRjEBjeSuothbr-8gNzUZqMco_1gwMlhyphenhyphengp3wACnsvf5IC5u5ROqUWjxpT0iNZu5zRi80G1XplfM9bQBdragvnYV2p1D8Q94AkAO5LodL0ItEOYST_C5E-k9TQbYhpjsAGlm7qmTpUQ8/s1600/Freshly+Squeezed+Orange+Juice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkRjEBjeSuothbr-8gNzUZqMco_1gwMlhyphenhyphengp3wACnsvf5IC5u5ROqUWjxpT0iNZu5zRi80G1XplfM9bQBdragvnYV2p1D8Q94AkAO5LodL0ItEOYST_C5E-k9TQbYhpjsAGlm7qmTpUQ8/s1600/Freshly+Squeezed+Orange+Juice.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hey. You’re just in time. I squeezed some fresh orange
juice, made a batch of corn muffins with pieces of corn in them and freshly
ground coffee.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Wow. I didn’t realize you were domestic too.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m not. Would you believe that I’m just trying to impress
you?” he asked, his cheeks growing rosy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes.” She giggled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“And no, you don’t have to do that. I usually don’t eat breakfast and if
I do, it’s dry cereal out of a coffee mug.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s going to have to change. We’re going to be working
long hours on the sitcom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since
you’re the head writer, you can do most of the writing out here, but once a
week we have to meet at the studio for an meeting with the staff and the
actors.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Robbie placed a glass of
orange juice and a dish with an extra large corn muffin in front of her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next he brought the coffee and the
vanilla creamer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thank you, Robbie. I’m not used to being served.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3l9ubkYwykUphxkVeMr_FuhEjE_MTFwktNI1yZ_6FXNKkBRA3yvlwuX19CscNXqNvd1i5KGfsCyQ3u4bB4gW-X7_A019H-SvaW1PRj5ceewMyOSMQ4S8D9rCoB3HRBphKs_BWmwP9fpU/s1600/Corn+muffin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3l9ubkYwykUphxkVeMr_FuhEjE_MTFwktNI1yZ_6FXNKkBRA3yvlwuX19CscNXqNvd1i5KGfsCyQ3u4bB4gW-X7_A019H-SvaW1PRj5ceewMyOSMQ4S8D9rCoB3HRBphKs_BWmwP9fpU/s320/Corn+muffin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I thought we’d get an early jump on shopping this morning.
I’d like to spend the afternoon going over and tweaking the script. I’m hoping
to have the script ready to go so we can have a meeting on Thursday morning.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“When will we start shooting?” she asked, eating a piece of
muffin.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The executive producer wants to have at least the first six
episodes ready to go. He feels that will give us enough leeway to get to know
the characters and see where they bring us.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s what we’d do on the soap. Sometimes one particular
character would just take over the story, opening up so many opportunities.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Since the show has two stories running parallel to one another,
we have to make sure the characters and scenes are in synch. You are going to
love the two other writers on staff.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I usually get along with everyone. I’m always open to any
constructive criticism that will make the plot stronger. I believe in team
work.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robbie nodded. He finished this breakfast and brought his
dishes to the sink. Jill felt he was a little off this morning. Robbie wasn’t
his usual cheerful self. He seemed somewhat withdrawn as if something lay
heavily on his shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Should she say something? Or just ignore
his solemn mood. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Going with her instincts she stood, brought her dishes to
the sink and turned the water on to wash them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You don’t have to do them.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not a problem. It will just take me a few minutes. Why
don’t you pour yourself another cup of coffee?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR_KAuFChWkNwsyXdHuPdJEGmu-23DKPRlcMu-Ut14SsrnAnwxlhwMXe5cfpqvX7lUF-lewujw-jn_bq34gMV_Xd2Pp6436YHkArad-ZfTFeWNwRuKZeEcndsedhz3LZy15TmOGE6-_vQ/s1600/kitchen+island.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR_KAuFChWkNwsyXdHuPdJEGmu-23DKPRlcMu-Ut14SsrnAnwxlhwMXe5cfpqvX7lUF-lewujw-jn_bq34gMV_Xd2Pp6436YHkArad-ZfTFeWNwRuKZeEcndsedhz3LZy15TmOGE6-_vQ/s320/kitchen+island.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jill quickly cleaned the dishes and muffin pan in the sink,
placing them into the drain board. She’d leave the dishes for him to put
away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she finished, she
turned around to watch Robbie pacing back and forth in front of the kitchen
island. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Robbie, what’s wrong? Did I do and say something to make
you seem so out of sorts?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No. You didn’t do anything. I just have something important
on my mind.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you want to talk about it?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robbie stopped pacing and walked within inches of Jill. “I
think I would. There’s just something that’s driving me crazy that I have to
get off my chest.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Tell me?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robbie moved her hair off her face, leaned into her and
kissed her lips. Against her better judgment, she went with heart, wrapping her
arms around his neck, responding to his kiss. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The ink isn’t even
dried on my divorce papers. But this time it felt real…not good.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">CLICK HERE TO RETURN TO TUESDAY TALES</i></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">CLICK HERE TO VISIT MY WEBSITE </a></i></div>
Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2056904125801109005.post-60773406923266644512017-01-22T12:50:00.000-05:002017-01-22T12:50:36.513-05:00Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmaJoHHHOEzZuf5vl1fHOXPF8-jWpmpmt4kF56kks54U-lmnhoRCp7Cxi_GI72OLpb4NQeREfZeq73HyHxf-9VuRcjW5VSKADpEqfP-PULV-FLg5tAHIHfAkLCrRjSJHreeprZarrigs/s1600/fireplace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmaJoHHHOEzZuf5vl1fHOXPF8-jWpmpmt4kF56kks54U-lmnhoRCp7Cxi_GI72OLpb4NQeREfZeq73HyHxf-9VuRcjW5VSKADpEqfP-PULV-FLg5tAHIHfAkLCrRjSJHreeprZarrigs/s320/fireplace.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Welcome to this weeks edition of Tuesday Days. I chose the fireplace as Jill gets comfortable in her cottage. Thanks for stopping by.<br />
<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Jill closed the door when Robbie disappeared behind the pine
trees and walked into the living room where Robbie had a started a fire.
Sliding her coat off, she flung it over the arm of the couch before plopping down
on it. This transition was going to be earlier than she had imagined, except
for the weather. She’d take the California sun year round. But one thing was
for sure, nothing at all is like living in New York. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her cell phone rang, startling her, but immediately a smiled
appeared on her lips. “Hi Jill. Sorry for bothering you, but I wanted to make
sure everything was okay,” Robbie asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Everything is just perfect. Thank you so much for lighting
the fire. When did you light it?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“While you were freshening up in the powder room. I wanted
to make sure your first night was perfect.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jill stood and walked into her bedroom where her suitcases
waited to be unpacked. “Thank you again for your hospitality. You have done a
wonderful job of making my transition here easier for me.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’re welcome. Do you need anything before I call it a
night?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzs3d3EZN8dowd-VSB3O15yd10y4y0QWrUUinMOZ94sLKAPn-5OGr-FJ8OFbzEOm1y779JgKgmaXUp5yqrWMshFcutarYqSeihFWGDj1r859pPDIAJC2rR7nnWt4oMCbplTMszA-XTkAE/s1600/Red-and-White-Wine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzs3d3EZN8dowd-VSB3O15yd10y4y0QWrUUinMOZ94sLKAPn-5OGr-FJ8OFbzEOm1y779JgKgmaXUp5yqrWMshFcutarYqSeihFWGDj1r859pPDIAJC2rR7nnWt4oMCbplTMszA-XTkAE/s200/Red-and-White-Wine.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No thanks. You’ve done enough for me. Maybe tomorrow if you
aren’t busy, you can bring me shopping for winter clothes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I only have a couple of long sleeve
shirts, and no heavy sweaters. I also need to pick up some groceries.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s a date.
Before I forget, I left you a bottle white wine in the refrigerator and a red
one on the counter. I opened both for you. If you need anything, give me a
call.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thank you, Robbie.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“When you’re ready, come up in the morning for breakfast.
Good night.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jill’s heart palpitated. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Just
admit it. You’re falling for him.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">CLICK HERE TO RETURN TO TUESDAY TALES</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://karencino.com/" target="_blank">CLICK HERE TO VISIT MY WEBSITE</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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</style>Karen Cinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08357416992945729324noreply@blogger.com3