Tag Archives: Paranormal 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 Orange Decor

 

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 prompt is the picture above featuring elements of orange decor. My snippet is from a dark fantasy romance about a heroine and hero who fight against nefarious traffickers. After reading it please make sure to visit the other talented authors at Tuesday Tales.

 

If she hadn’t realized it before, she did now. Rhade was one hot red blooded male.

A male with the scent of deep woods lingering about him. She breathed him in and filled her eyes with the sight of him. At over six feet and solid framed, he took up a large portion of the sitting room. The jeans and blue checked shirt made him look more accessible and even more appealing, if that were possible. Muscular forearms rippled from beneath rolled up sleeves, and her breath warbled as she noted his bare feet. Hadn’t she put socks in the bathroom?

Her nerves on edge, she clutched one of the orange chevron pillows that served as an attempt at autumn décor. “We may as well make ourselves comfortable while we wait on Roy. Like a beer?”

His lips twitched into a grin. “Wouldn’t say no to a cold one.”

In the kitchen she filled a tray with not only beer but also crackers, cheese, and some crunchy trail mix with M & Ms tucked in. She had an idea that rare steak would be more his style, but this would have to do for now.

“Here we go. I thought a snack might tide us over. Help yourself.”

After a long swallow from the tall necked bottle, he dug into the cheese and trail mix with obvious interest. “Do you think Roy has the information we need?”

“He mentioned Stella and the other familiars on the phone, so he knows something all right. It’s a matter of dragging it out of him.”

A dangerous gleam appeared in his eyes. “Not to worry. I can make him talk.”

“If it comes to that, yes, and I’ll hold you to it. But first we need to see if he’s naturally on our side.” At his doubtful expression, she hurried on. “It is possible, you know.”

“Possible, but not likely.”

“I know. I’d like to avoid another confrontation if we can.” She got caught up in the sight of a dimple that appeared now and then as he talked and munched on trail mix. She had never seen him in a relaxed setting, and to say he disturbed her was an understatement.

He pushed water darkened hair off his forehead and met her bemused stare head on. “If you keep on looking at me like that, I’ll be forced to take up where we left off last night.”

The huskiness of his voice caused a ripple of pure pleasure. Then she realized what he’d said, and stopped breathing.

He reached out and sifted through a lock of her hair. “It’s like rubied gold.” He came closer, and his mouth brushed against hers.

Loud knocking sounded at the door. 

 

I hope you enjoyed my snippet based on the picture prompt of a room with orange elements of decor. 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 Crush

It’s good to be back with Tuesday Tales, after the stress and aftermath of Hurricane Irma. 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 book hungry troop that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our word prompt is crush. The excerpt is from a paranormal fantasy romance. Visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

Realization settled like a stone in her belly. She was in the hands of the dreaded Firbolg, mortal enemies of her lineage, the Tuath. She had to figure a way out of this predicament.

Her stomach roiled from nerves and the rough trip Rhade insisted was necessary to escape the enemy. Without warning, he swung her from the mount and leapt down beside her, still clasping her arm. Shouts pierced the air. Their two escorts reacted with urgency, unsheathing their weapons and rushing toward the din.

Rhade hauled her up an incline toward a row of large rounded boulders and shoved her through a crevice and into a tight, enclosed space, landing on top of her. “They could not have seen you. You’re safe for the moment.”

Breathing was hard with his weight atop her. She pushed up at him as best she could, but her wrists were still tied together. She scrubbed the cloth from between her lips, and managed a hoarse whisper. “Damn you, barbarian. Get off. Are you trying to crush me? Who’s after you now? The Tuath?”

Grunting, he shifted his muscular form and maneuvered to the narrow crevice, peering through. “It’s the Fomor, not the Tuath, damn your eyes. Didn’t you hear their war cry? I’ve a good mind to toss you out to them.”

Her heart thudded. “You said I was safe.”

Courtesy free Pixabay

“Your wagging tongue makes me reconsider.”

“You have no reason to fear me. I’m not the priestess you think I am.”

He snarled. “I fear no one.”

“There’s no reason to hate me either.”

Blue eyes flashed. “Have you forgotten I saw you at the battle of Boyne?  Face of an angel, heart of obsidian. Your lies won’t work on me.” His voice hardened. “And don’t try any magic either, if you want to live another day.”

His words swirled around her like strums of music. He thought she would use magic on him? Human manipulation was against all she had been taught. Her lips parted, and her gaze narrowed, sorting out possibilities. Damn right she would. She just had to figure out how.

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt crush. Thanks for stopping by. Make sure to 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 Strap

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 strap. The excerpt is from a paranormal fantasy romance. Visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

She made her way to the side of the bed and sank down. Her muscles had turned to water. “What does he want with me?”

There was no reply to her question. Esme’ hung a garment bag on the back of the door, slid the zipper, and held up the contents. “This is for you to wear tonight.”

She eyed the gown. It looked soft, and the translucent, golden sheen of the fabric gave the impression it was fae woven. Patches and strips of sequins glittered here and there in strategic locations, but the dress was otherwise sheer. Some of her gumption returned. “Forget it. I’m not wearing that.”

Esme’ gave an impatient snort. “Don’t give me any trouble. Put it on, or Master will send in Konrad to stuff you into it.” The woman’s face pinched into a scowl. “For your own sake, mind your manners and do as you’re instructed.”

“Assuming I do put it on, what then? What am I expected to do?”

“You’re going onstage. Look fetching and desirable when you get there. It should be simple enough for the likes of you. I don’t even need to paint your face and pretty you up like I do some.”

Her heartbeat stopped for a moment and then commenced at double time. “Why?”

“For the club members. A batch of wealthy collectors will bid for you. How you get along after that is up to you.” Esme’ draped the outfit across the bed and handed Resa a pair of 3 inch heels.

She flung the shoes at the wall.

With a snarl the woman retrieved them. “Tantrums won’t help. Pull yourself up by your bra strap, girl. I don’t have time to mollycoddle. I’ve got two others to see to. All you have to do is make the audience happy. An agreeable demeanor will increase your price. More money, happier Master.”

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt strap. Thanks for stopping by. Make sure to visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

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

Tuesday Tales: Writing Hug

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 hug. My excerpt is from a new paranormal fantasy I’ve started. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.

She held the electronic device to the edge of the door and waved it slowly up and down. She had paid good money for this little trickster. It performed efficiently, as expected. With a low muffled thud, the impressive metal door popped ajar. Marta checked her watch. Twelve minutes until the guard’s next rounds. More than enough time for her to get the prize.

Once inside, she positioned a special strip before pushing the door closed. Keeping her trek silent was accomplished by a death hug around her cross body tool bag. Moving like her cat Kali in hyper stealth mode, she made her way down the corridor and across the expanse of the Egyptian room. Ignoring the stunning displays of gold jewelry and ornate sarcophagi that normally enthralled her, she kept her focus on the mission. She exited the Egyptian room by means of a side door. From there it was a simple matter of a short hallway leading into what her quirky brain had termed Elysium since concocting this caper.

The Greek room looked sparse compared to some of the others. Items were only now being delivered, and displays took time to arrange. A few mesmerizing pieces had been already placed, however, and a set of comedy tragedy masks particularly called to her. Maybe she had enough time—no! Keep to the plan. She hadn’t been successful at this for years by deviating from a tried and true pattern. Take little. Leave a lot. Besides, she only dealt in jewelry.

She avoided eyeballing any other displays and made her way to the back of the room where delivery items were still boxed. Knowing exactly where to look was crucial. And she did. She levered the top off one of the large boxes and surveyed its contents. So many little cases and all containing treasures. Her throat closed up, and swallowing was difficult. She squeezed her gloved hands into fists to stop her itchy fingers from scarfing them all up. She sought out a small square case in a coppery color. Opening it, she gave a quick intake of breath. The necklace nestled like a harvest moon atop the red silk lining. She frowned. A splendid  ring lay adjacent in its folds. It hadn’t been there earlier when she scoped things out. Or was she so focused on the necklace and pushed for time that she simply didn’t see it? Sloppy.

She glanced at her watch. Two minutes left. She shut the case and slipped it into her pocket, and then reclosed the large container. Moving fast, she retraced her steps. Kali on a midnight run. She was securing the outside door when the glow of a flashlight bobbled down the hallway. She used the device again, this time to seal the lock.

Heart pounding, she ran down the alley to her car.

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt hug. 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

Tuesday Tales: Writing Cry

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 cry. 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 cry of a distressed blue jay pierced the dawn, and then another. Her gaze followed a flash of color. Probably babies were involved. She searched the tree line. There was no glimpse of any further confrontation, and no more outbursts. Just the pleasant muted hum of waking fauna. Cradling her cup, she enjoyed the last few sips in peace. How relaxing it would be to prolong these moments. She’d like to suspend early morning to an all-day languish of drinking coffee and musing around.

That was no longer possible. She wasn’t the girl with oodles of cash or even the dosh for a lazy day. Sighing, she returned inside. Thank goodness for the screen door. Lizards and bugs were Florida staples she could do without.

Her stack of laundry was back from Miss Sarah. Slipping a freshly starched apron over her head, she made her way to the big drawing room lugging a pail of soapy water and another of supplies. With a wry glance at her once lovely nails, she got busy. First using the feather duster on the wood furniture, she then delved into the bottle of polish. The oily aroma overpowered her breathing but gave the satisfaction it was working. By the time she had finished the major pieces, the outside crew was well underway with hammering noises. She began on the smaller tables. The wall clock chimed, and she craned her neck to see it was already nine o’clock. Nita was supposed to be here to scour the floor. Oh, good, there was the screen door now. She scrunched back down to the table legs. “In here, Nita.”

“Not Nita. Good morning.” Nate came in, his dark eyes seeking her out.

Butterflies by Fujishima Takeji

Butterflies By Fujishima Takeji (1867-1943) ([1]) [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

The sight of him caused a fluttering in her abdomen. His hair looked a bit rumpled, and wrinkles etched one cheek as if he’d been sleeping hard on it. She hoped his nights were more restful now. 

“Here.” He offered a hand to help her rise, and that one dimple deepened. “What’s Cinderella doing on the floor?”

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the picture prompt cry. 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 Flowers

Don’t you love spooky movies set in rambling old houses where the heroine finds a secret passageway or hidden room?

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 prompt is a picture of flowers. 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.

Hannah stumbled into the room, a maze of impressions bombarding her senses. Pastel, lacy, feminine. Her hand fluttered over her heart. She stood by the bed, her vision blurred. A secret room. A small bedroom hidden inside a larger one.

Nate’s voice broke her trance. “You all right?”

She swallowed, and then nodded. “This is too much. How did you know?”

“When you sent me up here to measure the bedrooms on this side, I saw the dimensions were off on one.” His hands tumbled the screwdriver as he spoke. “Why? There was no closet cutting in, nothing telling on the other side. Why shave a few feet off one of the three?”

“A hidden room would never have occurred to me.”

His head tilted to one side. “I remembered a secret compartment in an old desk of my grandfather’s. The drawers all looked the same, but when you measured, one was slightly smaller. There was a hidey hole in the back.”

“You thought of it this morning? Why didn’t you come and get me?”

“You had company, remember? And my boss doesn’t like holes in the wall.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “If I was going to barge in with an axe, I had to find the right spot.”

She stared at the opening, crinkling her brow. “But it’s perfectly rectangular.”

“I didn’t have to maul more than a couple square inches. There’s a spring mechanism.” He pointed to the hardware sticking up. “Smart as hell.”

“Why would someone go to all this trouble?” The dainty vanity compelled her attention. She ran her hand over a crocheted doily. “Oh, there’s something underneath.” She drew out a handkerchief.  A small gasp escaped her lips. “A flower keepsake.” She held it up to him. The bud lay against the fine white linen like a drop of dried blood.

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

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance