Tag Archives: Korean War era

Tuesday Tales: Writing Blue

Courtesy Free Pixabay

Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a dedicated group that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our word is blue. My snippet is from a light paranormal set in the 1950s. The heroine works hard to make a living in her restaurant and raise her little daughter while awaiting the return of her husband from the Korean War. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Still no word from Jeffrey. Sour butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Tightening her lips, she banged shut the tiny postal box. Only good thing about no mail was no past due bills. Yet anyway. She hurried to the post office service window. “Excuse me, Mr. Henry?”

“Afternoon, Mrs. Reynolds. What can I do for you?”

“H—has all the mail been posted?”

An apologetic expression settled over his features. “Yes, Ma’am. I’m afraid it has. None for you today. I know you are anxious to hear from the mister. A few weeks now it’s been?”

“Oh, Mr. Henry. It’s been a month. Jeff has always been good about writing. He’s never missed this long. And in his last letter he spoke of a change in orders.”

“Don’t let a blue funk take over, Mrs. Reynolds. Your little girl needs you to be strong.”

“I wouldn’t frighten Gwennie for the world. But it’s…”

“It’s hard. I know.”

“Of course. Your younger brother is overseas.”

“Stationed back in the States now. An adjunct to some big shot. I can contact him to make inquiries about your husband, if you wish, Ma’am.”

Her heart swelled at his kindness. “Oh, would you, Mr. Henry? I’d be so appreciative. It would mean the world to find out if there’s some reason…I mean…I just want Jeffrey to be safe. We’d love him home for the New Year, for Gwennie’s sake in particular, but he’s not due for discharge until February. I’m starting to feel frightened at not hearing.”

“Let me get in touch with my brother. It may take some time for him to look into it. I’ll keep you apprised.”

“That would be splendid. Thank you.”

Back at the restaurant she pitched herself into work, focusing on making customers happy, which included an extra spate of pie baking. She always felt better with dough in her hands. Soon the sheer activity and tantalizing aromas of nutmeg and cinnamon lightened her spirits. Mr. Henry’s brother would find out that Jeffrey was safe. Safe and coming home soon.

I hope you enjoyed my take on blue. Thanks a bunch for stopping by. Return to Tuesday Tales. 

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

 

 

Tuesday Tales: Writing Tiny

Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a dedicated group that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our word is tiny. My snippet is from a light paranormal set in the 1950s. The heroine works hard to make a living in her restaurant and raise her little daughter while awaiting the return of her husband from the Korean War. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

“It’s Friday, Mama, and nothing’s come on the train all week. We should get a letter from Daddy today, shouldn’t we?”

Laura’s throat tightened before she answered. “Very possibly, sweetie. Let’s keep our fingers crossed.”

Tiny white gold eyebrows scrunched together in mighty protest. “Our fingers crossed?”

“Like this.” Laura demonstrated. “For good luck.”

“Oh.” Gwennie followed suit. “I will, but I can’t cross them during penmanship. Miss Harris might not like it.”

“Not in class, sweetie, just here at home, and maybe at recess if you think about it.”

“Oh, yes, I can cross them during recess, even while jumping rope!” With exuberance, she hopped up and down, demonstrating the feat.

Laura smiled and patted her daughter’s head. “Very good. By the time you come home, we may have a letter.”

“May I walk down and check the mail after school?”

Laura hesitated.  “I’ll do it this time, honey.”

Gwennie took it in stride. “’Kay. Bye, Mama.”

She leaned down for a hug and peppermint scented kiss. “Be a good girl today. Drink all your lunch milk. Oh, there’s Patty at the door. See you at three o’clock, honey.”

After Gwennie set off with her friend walking the few blocks to school, Laura soon got busy with customers. Still she managed to keep an eye on the clock. Gwennie didn’t realize they actually hadn’t heard from Jeffrey in over four weeks now. Until recently, he had always managed to write every other week, at least a few lines, and a feeling of unease had begun to settle in. Each day this week when the southbound had blown its whistle, she had barely given the postmaster sorting time before hurrying down the sidewalk to the post office.

Twelve thirty. Wouldn’t you know the train was running late? When it finally came, she squeezed nails into her palms, waiting on it to slow down and the mail bag to be hooked. As soon as Mr. Henry retrieved the bag, she had a violent urge to run after him, but forced herself to wait fifteen minutes.

When the allotted time had crept by, she trotted down the sidewalk. Impatient fingers twirled the combination and flung open the box. Nothing there. She patted inside. No letter.

I hope you enjoyed my take on tiny. Thanks a bunch for stopping by. Return to Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

 

 

Tuesday Tales: Writing Frost

Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a dedicated group that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our word is frost. My snippet is from a light paranormal set in the 1950s. The heroine works hard to make a living in her restaurant and raise her little daughter while awaiting the return of her husband from the Korean War. Please visit the talented authors at Tuesday Tales.

Despite being bone tired, she hadn’t slept a wink. Tossing and turning had her even more exhausted. She might as well give up and get a jump on the day ahead. Tossing back the covers, she shivered in the chilled air and quickly slipped on a chenille bathrobe and bedroom shoes. After brushing her teeth and splashing icy water onto her face, she padded back through her room and on into Gwennie’s. The little one slept soundly on her stomach with one foot sticking out from a cloud of blankets. Smiling, Laura tucked in the wayward tootsie.

Loathe to make coffee with night still a reality, she settled for a cup of hot tea, sipping it periodically while straightening chairs and wiping down tables. Thank goodness Nita had swept the previous night. It was just too cold to kick up a herd of dust. She worked as quietly as possible to keep from waking Gwennie. With school being closed for Christmas this week, she could sleep in, or as long as talkative early customers allowed. Napkin holders needed filling, as did salt and pepper shakers. After that, busy hands straightened the chips, crackers, and other items clipped to sale racks behind the counter. Refilling the cold drink case could wait. Clinking bottles would certainly spoil her daughter’s slumber.

She brushed down the storefront window seat and then on a whim plugged in the Christmas tree. The town was still far from beginning to stir, and no one should see it and tap on the door thinking she was open. Gwennie had picked out a tree and lights in her current favorite color, sky blue, on their trip to Leesburg last week. Only about four feet tall, it fit perfectly in the window, while still allowing for strands of garlands and icicles. She stood for a moment admiring the color. The bulbs cast a blue glow over her skin. The frost veins on the window even looked blue, matching the ones on her work marred hands.

Maybe she should wake Gwennie after all. She’d be excited that Jack Frost had visited. A whiz of a bicycle sounded outside and a soft thump. On the outskirts of town, a rooster crowed.  Laura sensed a shift in the air. The world was on the verge of daybreak. Time to retrieve the paper from the sidewalk and make a fresh pot of coffee. 

I hope you enjoyed my take on frost. Thanks for stopping by. Return to Tuesday Tales.

 

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

 

 

Tuesday Tales: Writing Turkey

 

Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a dedicated group that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today my passage is based on a picture of a glorious roasted turkey. The snippet is from a light paranormal set in the 1950s. The heroine works hard to make a living in her restaurant and raise her little daughter while awaiting the return of her husband from the Korean War. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

 

Laura paused with a spoon in mid air. Would Gwennie eat cranberry sauce? She doubted it, but it wouldn’t hurt to put a smidgen on her plate. Along with golden turkey topped by giblet gravy, dressing, mashed potatoes, English peas, and white rolls, it was dinner fit for a princess. If her little girl disliked eating out front in the restaurant rather than in a dining room like most of her friends, she never remarked on it. She was good natured and took most things in stride. Living in a restaurant with a skylight in her bedroom seemed adventurous at her age. Maybe someday after Jeff returned from overseas and the business built up, the three of them could afford a little house of their own.

Laura prepared a plate for herself as well, to join her daughter for the Thanksgiving meal. Since it was only eleven fifteen, there was not much of a crowd yet. They’d pile in by noon. “Crook a finger if you need me, Nita.”

An earnest grin shot back at her. “Will do. Now get on out there and relax a few. You and Bertha have been slaving over the stove since daylight.”

A few minutes later she and Gwennie dug into the feast. “This dressing is yummy, Mama.” She hid a smile as her daughter moved aside a tidbit of liver from the gravy. Then her brow scrunched at a taste of the cranberry sauce. “But this purple stuff.” She warbled it around in her mouth. “It’s pretty and looks like jelly but tastes sour.”

“Cranberry sauce should be tart. Have a sip of sweet tea after you swallow it, Gwennie. Then later you’ll have a slice of pumpkin pie, which will sweeten you up even more.”

That brought a peal of laughter. “You always say I’m sweet.”

“I should hope so! It’s a requirement of a young Miss, remember?”

“Oh, yes, and hold my pinky out. Only I haven’t a cup, just a glass.”

“A glass will do fine for a pinky extension.” She illustrated and Gwennie followed suit.    Her daughter nodded earnestly. “If we visit the Queen, we’ll be proper.”

“Plus a fine Miss doesn’t gobble everything down but always leaves one bite on her plate.”

“What for, Mama?”

“For the fairies.”

Blue eyes widened. “Fairies?”

Laura was getting into the spirit of whimsy, as her Granny used to do. “They’re invisible, and you can never catch them eating, but they’ll sneak a taste when you aren’t looking. And the old story goes you’ll be granted a wish for your generosity, especially close to Christmas time.”

“But Christmas is a whole month away!”

“Not long at all in fairy time. Another thing, too.” Laura held up a delicate v- shaped bone. “I saved the wishbone for you. We’ll let it dry for a day or two, and then you hold one end and I the other. We pull, and the winner is the one who ends up with the longest piece. It’s possible you could receive two special wishes, Gwennie.”

“Even if I win the longest piece, you can have that wish, Mama. I’m going to leave the fairies a bite, and I know what my wish is already. Do I have to keep it a secret?”

Laura glanced up at Jeff’s military portrait on the wall and touched her daughter’s cheek. “It’s best kept a secret, darling, until it comes true. That gives it extra special power.”

 

I hope you enjoyed my take on the picture prompt showing a beautifully baked turkey. Thanks for stopping by. Remember to return to Tuesday Tales and read all the fine offerings.

Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

 

 

Tuesday Tales: Writing Prepare

Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a dedicated group that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our key word is prepare. My snippet is from a light paranormal set in the 1950s. The heroine works hard to make a living in her restaurant and raise her little daughter while awaiting the return of her husband from the Korean War. Please visit the talented authors at Tuesday Tales.

 

“Little Gwennie is fine playing hopscotch with our Betty. Make yourself comfortable out here, Laura. It’s cooler. I’ll be back with iced tea soon as I shed these stockings.”

Meg went in, closing the screen door, and Laura settled back onto the porch swing. With one arm spread out over the wood, she tapped a foot enough to create a slight sideways swinging motion without engaging the built-in squeak. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind one ear, wishing to be home to divest herself of hat and stockings. Still, she hated to cut short Gwennie’s playtime, and some iced tea would hit the spot.

Footsteps sounded on the sidewalk. “Afternoon, missus.”

A half smile creased her lips. “Why, hello, Spur. How are you today?”

He removed his cap. “Ship shape.” He seemed hesitant and gave the impression of wanting to say more.

“Something on your mind?”

His eyes glinted with compassion. “I was wondering if you’d heard anything. About the mister I mean.”

She swallowed and shook her head. “Not…not yet. Thanks for asking.”

“When he does come home, and he will, mark my words…” He broke off, twisting his cap between two work hardened hands.

“What is it, Spur?”

“I’ve known buddies that…well, you just need to prepare yourself, that’s all. Be patient, like. It might take him some time to get back to his old self. You know what I mean?”

She thought for a moment, her midnight imaginings returning in full force. Her gaze went far away and then refocused on the old man. “I—I think I do, Spur. I’ll be patient. I’ll be as patient as it takes.”

One quick nod indicated his approval. He slapped the cap back on and ambled down the way.

Spur had said Jeff would come home. She didn’t know why, but it sounded like a promise. Emotion welled up and brought her surging to her feet. Her hands wadded fabric at the sides of her dress. The old man had also given a kind of warning. She brushed it away. That didn’t matter. She could handle anything once Jeff was here.

I hope you enjoyed my take on prepare. Thanks for stopping by. Return to Tuesday Tales.

 

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

 

 

Tuesday Tales: Writing Truck

Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a dedicated group that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our secret word is truck. My snippet is from a light paranormal set in the 1950s. The heroine works hard to make a living in her restaurant and raise her little daughter while awaiting the return of her husband from the Korean War. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

 

The iron pan of biscuits slid squarely into the center of the hot oven. Laura eased the door closed just as Nita came rushing in from the public space of the restaurant. Her round face beet red, she spluttered words in a hissing tone likely meant to pass as a whisper.

Laura straightened and whipped a kitchen towel up over her shoulder.

The hissing again, but this time discernable. “Doris Killingham! She’s right behind—”

The town’s imperious guide for all matters philanthropic and social waltzed into the long narrow room, having extended one beige gloved forefinger to allow passage through the swinging door. Her puce flowered dress and matching hat and handbag overpowered the lowly atmosphere of the well worked kitchen.

“How may I help you, Mrs. Killingham?” From the corner of her eye she saw Nita edge her way out to the customers. Chicken.

“You can tell me what my son was doing here alone with you last night.”

A fiery feeling warmed her throat, causing her words to come out rather stronger than she intended. “Why don’t you ask Wade why he stormed in here?”

“He’s still abed. The poor boy doesn’t sleep well. I’m on my way to prayer meeting and have no time for your nonsense. Why was he raising a ruckus?”

An exasperated sigh escaped her. “He said he wanted to voice his objection to my consulting with Miz Sarey.”

“Consulting with Miz Sarey? You mean about your husband?”

“Of course about my husband. I’m worried sick. Besides, almost everyone in town gets a palm read at one time or another. Haven’t you?”

The woman huffed. “Certainly not. I have no truck with fortune telling and the like.”

She folded the kitchen towel very carefully, ironing it with the side of her hand. “Miz Sarey uses her sight to help those in need.”

“I suppose you made payment for that bit of foolishness?”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Killingham, I know you mean well, but why is this your concern?”

“Two reasons, Laura Scott. One, as a business owner you have a responsibility to set an example and not go traipsing out on a devil’s errand. Two, just because your husband is off at war gives you no right to go spreading your scarlet nails into my boy.”

Those nails pressed into Laura’s two palms as she sought to contain her temper. “Wade and my Jeffrey are old school friends. He’s worried about his friend and trying to do right by him, granted in a heavy handed manner. It’s none of his business what I do. I told him that, and by damn, I’m telling you, too.”

“Well, try and provide a little proper guidance for some people!”

 

I hope you enjoyed my take on truck. Thanks for stopping by. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

 

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

 

 

 

Tuesday Tales: Writing Rain

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a book hungry troop that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our picture prompt is rain. My excerpt is from one of my books in progress, Hannah’s Haint, a vintage paranormal romance set in a small town in the 1950s.  Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Branches rustled as a breeze kicked up. Thunder rumbled and rolled from the west.

“Storm’s moving in.” He kept his voice low. Her ear was next to his lips, the way she had nestled against him. Plus, sounds carried in the night, especially in a small town. The last thing he wanted was for her to pay some kind of penalty for spending time with him on the porch after ten at night. “Do you smell the rain, Hannah?”

She murmured in languid agreement.

Fast moving clouds blotted out the moon.

She straightened, peering out into the darkness. “Our full moon’s gone.”

He wanted to banish the disappointment from her tone and keep her beside him as long as possible. “Just during the squall. Do you like Florida thunderstorms?”

His heart picked up speed as she leaned back against him, nodding. “Yes, I love them. They soothe me, as long as the lightning is not directly overhead. How about you?”

“Yep, they give me a kick. Here comes the rain.”

A light sprinkle quickly turned into a torrent. He could barely make out the yellow porch light on the house across the way. A few drops of slanted rain misted onto his face. “Do you want to go–?” Something wet and furry streaked by, brushing against his pants leg. He jerked and circled his arms around her protectively. “What the–?”

“Oh my god.” Her hand flew to her chest. “Taffy, you scared the life out of me.” She patted his arm. “It’s just the neighborhood tabby. Nate, we’d better go inside.”

He stood. “I was about to ask you that when the fur ball attacked.”

“Now don’t grumble. That cat is good luck, so I hear.” 

“Mm, I bet.” He smiled at her concern for the feline, stood, and took her hand to usher her inside.

Lightning cracked, sharp and close. She jumped, and her hand trembled in his.

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on a picture prompt of rain. Thanks for stopping by. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

 

Tuesday Tales: Writing Firecracker

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a book hungry troop that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our word prompt is firecracker. My excerpt is from one of my books in progress, Hannah’s Haint, a vintage paranormal romance set in a small town in the 1950s. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

The aroma of grilling hot dogs and sound of children having fun filled the air. Charcoal smoke spirals perched on make-do stands to keep away the mosquitoes. With dusk imminent, the blood suckers would soon follow. Hannah settled into the folding chair between Meg and Nate. “I didn’t expect there to be so many people here. You rounded down, didn’t you, Meg?”

“Don’t scold. Would you have come out if I mentioned this was the in place for 4th of July fireworks? They’re really spectacular here by the lake.”

Aware of Nate’s attention and his knee hovering a mere inch from hers, she merely offered a noncommittal murmur. She didn’t dare give a truthful response to Meg’s query. She would have come, if only to spend time with him away from their usual work environment.

Laura from the café’ emerged from the crowd, carrying two folding chairs, with little Gwennie in tow.

Meg piped up, cheery. “Made it, huh?” 

Nate and Roy stood, and greetings were exchanged. Roy scooped the chairs from Laura. “Let’s find you a good spot, boss lady.”

Laura looked a bit harried. “Thanks, Roy.”

Gwennie jumped up and down, pointing. “I want to sit by Judy and Sandy, Mommy.”

“All right, Darling. Over by the Smith twins would be great, Roy.”

Gwennie tugged on her mother’s blouse as they set off in a line. “Mommy, can I light a firecracker?”

“Good heavens no. You can have a sparkler.”

Roy soon returned, plunked into his chair, and popped the cooler lid. He passed beers to Meg and Nate. “Brewsky, Hannah?”

“No thanks. By chance any wine in there?”

“Nope, sorry. Hey, here are some cokes though. You sneak these in my cooler, Meg?”

“Of course I did, you big lummox. You know perfectly well Hannah hates beer.”

She leaned forward. “What kind do you have?”

Roy shifted bottles around. “Uh, looks like cherry, grape, and banana.”

“Banana, please.”

Roy popped off the cap and handed her the bumpy glass bottle. Banana scented fizz tickled her nose.

Meg pulled a sad face. “Sorry I didn’t think of wine, Hannah. You’re stuck with the soft stuff.”

Nate raised a brown. “Not necessarily. Go ahead and take a swallow, Hannah.”

Wondering what he was up to, she took a sip of her banana drink, while Nate retrieved a small flask from his back pocket.

Roy whistled. “Now why didn’t I think of that?”

Curiosity had her leaning his way. “What is it, Nate?”

“Gin. I don’t like the stuff, but you do. You game?”

Unable to resist the cockeyed grin that deepened his dimple, she passed him her drink bottle.

Holding his hand around the neck, he carefully poured a jot from the flask, shook the bottle, and used his thumb to keep it from spewing out. Once the concoction had settled, he returned it to Hannah.

She took a tentative sip. “Hmm, not bad. Definitely a kick.” She relaxed into the chair, pleasure tickling her insides. “Thanks, soldier.”

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt firecracker. Thanks for stopping by. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales. 

Cheers & Happy Reading!
Happy 4th of July!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

 

Tuesday Tales: Writing Stone

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a book hungry troop that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our word prompt is stone. My excerpt is from one of my books in progress, Hannah’s Haint, a vintage paranormal romance set in a small town in the 1950s. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Meg looked up at her husband as they swayed to the music, her eyes gleaming. It was as if Rod had just done something amazing, like flown to the moon and back. A flicker of sensation tickled Hannah’s throat. Maybe she’d have that someday. Her lips twisted. Probably not. Her course was set. Had been since she left Miami. She had gotten herself into a deep hole. Very deep. All she could hope for was the plan to play out in her favor. Then she’d at least have the promise of a living.

She smiled at the returning laughing couple, thankful she could get out of her thoughts. “Looking pretty good out there, kids.”

Meg plopped into a seat and grabbed Hannah’s wrist. “Ooh, watch out. He’s coming your way.” The whisper made it seem like state secrets were at stake.

Rod gave her a look. “Don’t start your match making. Leave the poor guy alone, honey.”

Meg’s leer was wicked. “I’ll have you know I’m not doing a thing, except praying.”

Sure enough Nate approached their table, his eyes riveted on her. “Evenin’, Rod, Meg.” He never looked their way, but held out a hand to Hannah. “Care to cut a rug?”

His deep voice with that little backdoor rasp made her taste honey. She had never had a guy’s voice do that to her.

She placed her fingertips in his hand and stood. “What kind of dancing do you like to do, Nate?”

He let a beat pass, and then another. “Slow.”

It was a good thing she hadn’t worn a sheath dress. He might notice trembling legs or knees that functioned like jelly.

The band cooperated, or maybe he had put a bug in the head man’s ear for a couple of dreamy tunes. He folded her in his arms as if they’d been dancing partners for years.

She could almost believe she belonged there. She gazed up at him. “You’ve got style I never knew about.”

He flipped her hand over. A tiny furrow appeared on his brow. “Nice ring. What kind of stone is that?”

She eyed her fingers. What had she slipped on? “Oh it’s garnet. My birthstone.”

Courtesy Pixabay public domain free photos

His dimple deepened. When the song ended, he kept her within the circle of his arms.

“Oh, did you want to dance another, Nate?”

He drew her closer. His lips brushed against her ear. “I want more than a dance, but you’re not ready for that, Hannah Ross.”

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt stone. Thanks for stopping by. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

Tuesday Tales: Writing Staple

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a book hungry troop that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our word prompt is staple. My excerpt is from one of my books in progress, Hannah’s Haint, a vintage paranormal romance set in a small town in the 1950s. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

“Easy there, buddy.” Nate eased Spurge onto the settee.

“Ya’ll leaving?” The basset hound eyes seemed to be trying to focus.

“Nope. Not until I see you getting some shuteye. Lean back now.”

“Can’t even do what you want in your own house.” The grumbling ended with a fit of coughing. When that passed he took a shuddering breath and flopped backward. His eyes closed and then popped open. “I’m sorry, Miss Hannah. You needed me and I messed it all up.”

“Never mind about that, Spurge. Listen to Nate and get some rest.” She didn’t know what was worse, a railing Spurge or a maudlin one.

Nate was nothing if not determined. She found herself admiring the way he spoke matter of factly but with an air of quiet authority. Not everyone would take such time with a burnt out codger. “Feet up, buddy.”

Grunting, the old man complied, while a pillow was tucked under his grizzled head. The bleary eyes fluttered and then closed.

Nate waved her out of the living room and into the kitchenette. “You mind if we make sure he’s resting peaceably before we go?”

“Not at all.” She maintained the same low whisper he used.

He opened up the icebox and grimaced, causing Hannah to peek over his shoulder. It was nearly room temperature and all but empty except for a puddle, two shrunken lemons, and a quart of buttermilk. Her nose wrinkled at the blue mold.

The cabinets he checked were barren as well. Not a staple in sight. He seemed to be making mental notes of either what was there or what may be needed if Spurge woke up hungry. If he had his way, she was sure the old man would get his act together and eat some healthy food for a change.

Loud snoring erupted from the front room.

Nate’s lips spread into a grin, putting a twisty sensation in her stomach. Damn that dimple.

“We’re safe to leave him now.”

On the way out he turned Spurge on his side and spread a thin blanket over him. She followed him out into the cool night air.

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt staple. Thanks for stopping by. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance