Welcome to my little corner of the web! For those of you who are new to my site/blog, I write romantic suspense, contemporary, and historical westerns. My latest release is PreView, a romantic suspense with a psychic flair.

I took the tree down already, and swept the virtual pine needles away. Now I can focus on 2012!
I hope you all had a wonderful and way to ring in 2012. Me? I went to bed at 8:00pm because I had to work at 5:00 am New Year’s Day. I’m not sure if I’m more bothered by the fact that I missed out on a party, or the fact that it didn’t bother me to miss a party. Getting old is hell, folks.

Now for my New Year’s memory:

I come from a big Irish family. Both of my parents came from big Irish families as well, so that makes my big family even bigger. I loved it.

Every New Year’s Eve, my parents would pile all seven of us kids into our big wood-paneled station wagon, and head up to my uncle’s house in a little Wyoming town where everyone knows everyone else. I think we doubled the town’s population by the time all the aunts, uncles, and cousins filed in.

Uncle Joe’s house would be filled with the scent of candy thanks to huge pots on the stove full of  homemade saltwater taffy. Then we’d all sit around the table (tables, there were dozens of us there) and each pull our own taffy. Now, most taffy gets pulled by machine. This is because you have to pull it when it’s hot. Blistering hot. And it takes a long time and considerable finger strength to pull the taffy into manageable consistency. Needless to say, we youngsters weren’t the best pullers, but we were by far the best eaters.

But it’s fun. And delicious. And it keeps a gaggle of kids busy for hours. (The recipe for homemade taffy is right here, if you’re so inclined.)

Then we’d wait up til midnight and ring in the new year on my uncle’s huge porch, with noisemakers and pots and spoons.

The more I think about it, the more I wonder why that little town kept allowing us back every year.

Then Uncle Joe would wake us all up at six in the morning with the following song blaring at top volume:

Seriously, I love my family.

Okay, that’s it for me. I hope you enjoy my little romp through memory lane! If you click on the “continue reading” link below, you’ll see the list of blogs for you to visit. Comment here with your email address to be entered into the grand prize drawing. I’ll choose one commenter to win their choice of my digital backlist.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, twelve drummers drumming:

I love Stomp. I hope you like it too. Now for a little story, inspired by Stomp:

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Thanks for joining us for the Blog Hop. I hope you’ll stop by Gem’s Chat Room on Saturday at 7pm EST where we’ll all be gathering to rehash the hop and talk author shop.

It’s coming up! Click on the banner to sign up for an email reminder. It’s going to be a great time!

For this post, I used the Scene Generator, and got the following prompts:

These are your characters: Ghost, Nurse, Bank robber
These adjectives describe them, one per character. Picky, Exhausted, Beautiful
This is your setting: Salon 

****

“Hail Mary, full of grace…”

Lara closed her eyes so no one would notice them rolling. Heather sat in her scrubs, rocking in a fetal position  like a four-year-old in time out. If she heard the Hail Mary one more time, Lara was going to scream. “How about some coffee?”

The nurse looked at her, brows knit together and mouth agape. “Coffee? At a time like this?”

Lara shrugged. “We’ll be here for a while. Might as well get comfortable.” Lara had never spent any amount of time on the floor of her salon. While the nurse she’d been blow drying sat praying, Lara made a mental note of the dust and gum beneath the chairs.

“I only drink Starbucks. Caramel latte with fat free milk. And I won’t drink out of a Styrofoam cup.” Heather went back to praying, but at least now it was under her breath.

“Will you two keep it down?” The man who held them captive groaned. Lara knew he wasn’t going to hurt them. In fact she could swear that the gun he kept waving around wasn’t even loaded. Marvin Milquetoast-turned bank robber. If this wasn’t her salon, she’d probably just stand up and walk out. Maybe take that black duffle bag with her.

“The police left an hour ago. I’m not sure what you’re waiting for.” Lara brushed hair clippings from her jeans. She’d been awake since four o’clock this morning, and after three color appointments and two squirming toddlers, Lara couldn’t help but be a little grateful for the break.

Marvin scratched his head with the barrel of the gun. “I’m waiting for a sign. I want to make sure it’s safe.”

Lara smiled. So he wants a sign. She took a deep breath and focused on the entity.  Shireah was a beautiful ghost who’d kept Lara company on slow days in the salon. She was also a bit mischievous, and loved to play tricks on Lara’s clients. She seemed to know which human she could mess with, and which to leave alone. Take Heather–Shireah would never show herself to the skittish nurse, but there were a few clients on a first name basis with the ghost.  None of them could communicate with her the way Lara could.

“What the…” Marvin stood up so suddenly, the folding chair he was perched upon clattered to the floor behind him. “What’s going on?”

Lara opened her eyes. Shireah stood before Marvin, her usual pearly visage had taken on a dark red hue. Very nice. Lara covered her smile with one hand. The ghost moved toward the bank robber, floating over the tile in the fluid yet creepy way that Lara wished she could do herself. Marvin backed away, mumbling and shaking his head.

“That’s her!” Heather’s mouth dropped open. Rather than screaming in terror like Lara imagined, Heather was in awe. She’d even unfolded herself and relaxed for the first time in an hour. “That’s your ghost!”

Lara shrugged as she watched Shireah all but push Marvin out the front door. “She’s not really mine.”

“But I’ve heard about her. Everyone says your salon is haunted. I never believed them, but…”

“What should we do with the money?” Shareah’s voice was as beautiful as her spirit. The soft whisper floated through the room and caressed Lara’s ears.

Marvin was gone. Through the window Lara saw him running through the street screaming. She stood up, stretching her cramped muscles. “Thanks for your help, Shareah. He was getting on my nerves.”

“You should have called earlier. I thought maybe you had a crush on him.”

Lara laughed, then shook her head. “Shareah, this is Heather. A nurse at Burry Memorial Hospital.”

Shareah floated over toward the nurse, who closed her eyes and smiled as the spirit swirled around her. Lara didn’t think she’d ever seen the woman so at peace.

“As for the money,” Lara raised one eyebrow, “I’m sure the  bank wouldn’t miss a few dollars. How does Starbucks sound?”

 ****

I really wanted to write a scary post for Halloween, but I guess I’m just not cut out for that. Thanks for stopping by. Good luck in the drawing, and I hope to see you Sunday night in Gem Sivad’s Chat Room! I’ll be there posting excerpts and talking shop with the other authors.

Happy Halloween!

Although I hate saying goodbye to summer, this Blog Hop is the perfect way to go out with a bang! I hope you’re all enjoying a labor-free weekend with plenty of food, friends, family, and most of all, relaxation! So curl up with a good book this weekend. You deserve it. I’ve found someone who would like to wish you a happy Labor Day.

This is Trevor Kearney. The green-eyed hero from my new release PreView. It’s available now for preorder, but will be officially released on Monday. It’s part of Carina Press’s Romantic Suspense Week. Click HERE for more information about that. The link will open in a new tab so you can finish the hop first.

How about a sexy excerpt and more Trevor skin?

Ryann, the heroine in PreView has prophetic dreams. The following is one of her dreams, which she’ll swear isn’t prophetic at all, just a Freudian classic.

“Mmm…Trevor?”

“Yes, ma’am. At your service.” His low voice rumbled through the stillness.

She grinned but didn’t open her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Shh…I’m sleeping. I’m having the most amazing dream.” He continued his seduction of her ear, then moved his lips down along the slim line of her neck.

His breath felt hot on her skin. Her temperature rose to match it; heat flooded her from head to toe.

Ryann turned her head to reach his mouth. He met her lips with a hungry kiss. His velvety tongue speared into her mouth and stroked hers until she writhed against him in effort to get ever closer. One strong hand slid up her torso until it covered her breast, her nipple puckered in full arousal. When he rolled it between two fingers, she squealed, then struggled to turn toward him. Only then did she open her eyes.

His chest was bare. Nothing marred the perfection of the skin stretched across his muscles. No hair, not a scar or a single freckle. Nothing. Just two dark round disks settled in toasty brown skin. She gave in to the impulse to touch it.

Lord, it felt good against her fingers. When she convinced herself he was real, she raised her eyes to his. Trevor Kearney leaned on one arm, hovering over her. His eyes were slumberous but filled with an electric heat. He slid one leg up hers; the hairs on his thigh tickled her deliciously. He wedged it between her legs, with the complete familiar comfort that it belonged there.

“Good morning.” One corner of his mouth tilted in a sexy smile. Ryann looked around her room, still covered in the dark shadows of night. She didn’t even smell the automatic coffeemaker, which clinched it—it was way too early.

“It’s not morning,” Ryann complained. She reached up to trace his lips. “The sun isn’t even up.”

“I’m always up early.” He adjusted himself between her thighs, proving a double meaning. She laughed, pulling him to her mouth again. She smoothed her hands down his muscled back, over the dip in the small of his back, the roundness of his buttocks. She cupped a hand beneath both cheeks and pressed him closer to her. She loved the way his ass looked beneath his tailor-fit pants and loved it even more without a stitch of clothing. Firm and tight, so damn mouthwatering.

Through the haze he created with his kiss, she was aware of his hands gliding across her flesh, leaving behind a trail of goose bumps. She pulled her mouth away enough to watch his hands move over her skin. The dark skin of his lean fingers looked unbelievably sexy against the white skin of her breasts. She wanted to pull those fingers into her mouth and suck on them, draw his essence into her, but his touch was too delicious to forgo. “God yes, touch me.” She spoke into his mouth. “Touch me everywhere.”

“Gladly. Anything you want, Ryann. Just tell me your fantasies. I’ll do anything you want.” His fingers skimmed her torso, then between her thighs, where he found her pliant and moist. He groaned and whispered his pleasure at her readiness. “Let me into your dreams.”

It’s the Summer Solstice! The longest day of the year, and a day filled with myths and legends all around the globe. Here in Wyoming, there is a ranch called Crimson Dawn. Folks gather to sit around a bonfire and tell stories before participants make a wish as they toss a handful of red dirt on the fire. In honor of the celebration, I’ve written the beginning of my take on the event, and some other bloggers have picked up where I left off. Enjoy!

Jessie Bolton sat astride her mare, shaking her head at the diverse crowd stepping off the KISS FM 93.7 tour bus. They had come from all over the country, and Jessie imagined that not one of them had ever been to Wyoming, let alone the top of Casper Mountain. Crimson Dawn Ranch had hosted the annual Sumer Solstice gathering since the 1930s. Some say a woman’s ghost haunts the area, but Jessie didn’t believe it. She’d worked at Crimson Dawn since she’d turned sixteen and had never seen anything but pranks and hoaxes.

Jessie grinned, and nudged her horse into the clearing to greet the newcomers. Perhaps this year would be more entertaining than the others. These nine folks had gone to great lengths to win the trip to Crimson Dawn to take part in the Solstice Celebration. Surely there was at least one trickster in town who would come up with a prank for these city slickers.

“Howdy!” Jessie swung out of the saddle, handed the mare off to one of Crimson’s cowboys, then knocked the dust from her gloves. “Welcome to Crimson Dawn. I’m Jessie.”

The man in front of her looked down his long nose, but did reach for her outstretched hand. “Dr. Martin Santorini.”

Ah yes. She remembered his information. The “world famous” geologist that Jessie had never heard of. She tried not to giggle at his pretentious attitude, or his handlebar mustache. Who knew they still made wax for those? “Welcome, Mr. Santorini. I hope you enjoy your—”

“That’s Doctor Santorini.”

Someone in the crowd snorted, but it didn’t seem to bother the geologist. He wandered away and Jessie focused on the next in line.

“Hi, I’m Carla Hildebrand. So excited to be here! I kept expectin’ cowboys and Indians in stagecoaches and stuff, ya know? I’ve never even set foot outside Georgia, so I’ll be takin’ lots of pictures.” To prove her point, Carla snapped one of Jessie’s deer-in-the-headlights look. “I’ll have to post these on my blog. Karl is just gonna shit. Karl’s the cook where I work. He thought I was pullin’ his leg about winnin’ this trip. I never win anything!” She squealed and snapped another picture.

Jessie stepped aside to offer her hand to the next newcomer. Oh yeah. This had to be Jerri Carlsile, the stripper from Atlantic City. Fake boobs, fake hair, fake tan…even a fake smile.

“I’m Jerri. I don’t suppose you sell those boots in your gift shop, do you? They’d go great with one of my outfits.”

“Uh…no. I’m sorry. Maybe on your way back to the airport the driver can stop somewhere—”

“You’re too damn cute.” Jerri winked and snapped her gum before sauntering away.

Jessie focused on the tight-faced woman in flowing paisley silk. Her eyes were the lightest blue Jessie had ever seen. She found that she couldn’t look away from the direct stare.

“Zoe Redner, darling.”

Oh. The psychic. Jessie hoped her eyebrow didn’t quirk as it was known to.

“I do hope you don’t spend your entire summer up on this mountain. There is a lot of energy in this area. Not all of it kind.” Zoe spread her hands out, palms down. If she was getting a read on the gravel beneath their feet, Jessie hoped the psychic wasn’t afraid of rattlers.

“I’ve heard stories, but I’ve spent a lot of time at Crimson Dawn. Unfortunately I haven’t seen anything extraordinary myself.”

“You need to close your eyes…and open your mind.”

With that, Zoe flared her nostrils and walked away. Jessie couldn’t hide her bemused grin as she faced the next visitor. This had to be Phineas Walton. The Computer programmer from Dayton Ohio blinked rapidly, as if he was filing images away in his brilliant brain. Jessie had never met a “geek” who looked this good. Before she could check him out too thoroughly, he reached for her hand and pumped it vigorously “I’m Phineas. Very nice to meet you. Tell me you have Wifi.”

Jessie laughed. “Yes we do. After the ceremony I’ll get you all set up in your rooms for the night.”

“Great!” He pulled out his smartphone and tapped the screen.

“Hello. Lindee Penton. I’m the astrologer for the New York Century magazine.”

The man beside her cleared his throat.”And I’m Will Treadworth. I have a real job.”

Lindee’s face flared with color. “I swear to God, Mr. Treadworth. If you don’t shut your trap about my career, you can expect a scathing review of your latest article by my colleague.

Will shrugged. “Big deal. What’s your circulation, fifty?”

Lindee’s lips turned white, but Jessie was glad to see that she spun away rather than continue the argument.

Making a mental note to change the Treadworth and Penton rooms from connecting to opposite ends of the floor, Jessie shook Corey Thurston’s hand. Strange how cops looked like cops even in street clothes. He did have a nice smile though, and the scar on his cheek only added to his attractiveness.

After scratching behind Officer Thurston’s German Shepard’s ears, Jessie turned toward the last man off the bus. He wore head to toe black. From his Stetson to his boots, and even his long duster. She peered through the shadow of his hat and caught sight of a black goatee, and an equally dark expression.

“John,” he growled. He didn’t offer his hand, and Jessie was a little relieved. John P. Smith was the only one of the KISS FM winners that hadn’t bothered to fill out the personal information section on the pre-notification packet.

“Welcome, John.” As intriguing as the man was, she forced herself to face the group. “Welcome all of you! We’ve got some great storytellers lined up for this afternoon’s solstice. We’re set up just around this bend. Tonight we’ve saved you the best vantage point for the bonfire. The solstice will arrive in less than an hour, so we’d better get set.”

As Jessie led the motley crew down the path, the gravel beneath her boots hummed.  She shook her head. She didn’t believe in witches, warlocks or fairies. It was just another day out of the year.

Right?

Thanks for stopping by today. At the end We’ll be chatting on Saturday evening (7pm EST)  at Gem’s Place. Hope to see you there!

Here’s how it worked. Bloggers went to http://justromance.me/register/scenemaker/, where a random selection of characters, adjectives, and a setting were generated. Also, we were given the first line: Bloody footprints. What a way to start the weekend. and a line of dialogue: “Maybe you should take off your shirt.”. After that, the sky’s the limit.

I liked our mascot so much, I made a screenshot of my scene generator, so you can see what I had to work with, as well as drool a bit on that sexy tat.

There you have it. My generated scene. So here we go:

“Bloody footprints. What a way to start the weekend.” The Sous Chef scowled at the floor behind the crowd invading his domain. His big floppy feet and Cockney accent gave the man a caricature feel.  He continued mumbling about dirty feet as he continued through the kitchen.

Well, her date gets props for creativity. Cassidy dried her hands, and threw the paper towel in the humongous trash can.  She’d never even been inside a restaurant kitchen before, but now here she was on a blind date, learning cooking tips from one of the city’s most famous chefs.

“Do you like to cook?” Scott’s voice washed over her like a cup of warm syrup. Rich and sinful.

Cassidy looked up at her date. As a ski instructor, his gorgeous face was tanned, other than a clear shape around his eyes where his ski goggles kept the skin a lighter shade.  She could picture him on the slopes, stealing the hearts of all of his female students. His grin was irresistible. Along with the rest of him. It was a relief that Lara had set them up without telling Scott that she was wealthy. Now she could just be a regular ordinary woman on a regular ordinary date.  All he knew was that she worked in a bank.

He didn’t know that she owned seven of them.

She blinked a few times to remember the question. “Oh. Yes, I do. It’s the cleaning up after myself that I don’t like. How about you?”

He stepped aside politely to follow her to the prep table, where they stood shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the cooking class.  She gave him points for manners.

“I make a mean lasagna.” The look in his eye promised many sinful things, Italian food wasn’t even in the back of her mind.

Before she could mentally undress him, Cassidy focused on the empty cutting board in front of her.

“I don’t see what the big deal is. Interactive Restaurant? That just means that they’re getting paid for me doing my own cooking.”  Pete, the elderly guy on the other side of the table, growled. Pete was a retired postal worker who claimed to have been dragged here by his wife of sixty years.

“Will you lighten up? Anything is better than sitting in front of the boob-tube.” His wife swatted his arm playfully. “Now don’t ruin this for the rest of us.”

Scott’s laugh was as sexy as his voice.

Cassidy gave herself virtual slap in the face. This man was way too adorable to have a normal personality. No use falling for him on the first date, before the psychotic side came out. There must be something wrong with him.

She managed to pay attention to Chef Gerald, and even laughed along with Scott as he spent much longer than necessary chopping his vegetables.  His frustration with the tedious tasks made the rest of the table laugh. Even Pete labeled him cantankerous. The highlight of the evening was when he leaned against the oven. His sleeve caught fire, he jerked back in reaction, and poured a bowl of cold marinara sauce over his arm to douse the flames. His shouts shouldn’t have been comical, but several of the amateur cooks snickered behind their hands.

Cassidy managed to keep a straight face as she came to his rescue. She unbuttoned his shirt, thankful that he wore a clean undershirt.  She added more points to his tally. “Maybe you should take off your shirt.”

Nice chest. Muscular pecs clearly defined beneath the tee-shirt. And he smelled really good.

She must have enjoyed the task a bit too much, because she was suddenly aware of a chorus of jeers from the others. She handed him his soiled shirt with an awkward grin.

Still, once things settled down, and they returned to work, she swore she didn’t bump his hip on purpose, and would never admit to reaching into his space just to get another whiff of his cologne. The cooking class was a perfect place for a first date. No awkward silences, and the other participants gave her a cushion from the blind-date pressure.

“Maybe you should think about quitting your cushy job at the bank.” Scott nudged her elbow with his. “Your bruschetta looks a whole lot better than mine.”

She smiled, feeling an insane amount of pleasure from the simple compliment. “Well, the true test will be in taste.”

The heat in his eyes burned right through her clothes, and she had to stop herself from fanning her face with a spatula.

“Tell ya what.” He stepped closer, until she could feel the heat coming off his body. “If it passes muster, I’ll make the Lasagna, and you can make the bruschetta.”

I always feel bad leaving the couple just as things are heating up.  Oh well, on to the next blog post! Hope you’re having a good time. I’ll be chatting at Gem’s Chat Room on Sunday evening 7pm EST. Hope to meet you there! We’ll draw the winners during chat, and one of you will win a copy of my contemporary western romance Retreat.

Happy Easter!

Kelly only drank enough of the green beer to keep it from sloshing over her cup to stain her hand, but couldn’t stomach more than a few sips. Beer shouldn’t be green.

She picked her way back through the crowd. Dropkick Murphys blared through the speakers, and one group in the corner even sang along to the raucous chorus. She doubted any of the St. Patrick’s Day revelers had ever been to Ireland, or had any sort of Irish blood coursing through their veins—gallons of Jameson Irish whiskey didn’t count—but today everyone was Irish. While most Americans used March 17^th as an excuse to get drunk, Kelly would have been just as happy to stay home with Sean, and cuddle in front of the fireplace.

He’d promised her a dinner at her favorite restaurant if she’d join him for pool at the Shamrock Lounge for a few hours.  The bar was a favorite of theirs year round, especially since she’d been hired to paint a big pot of gold mural on the far wall. Although now it was covered with signatures on each gold piece, testaments to the feat of chugging “The Big Dublin“, a beer mug as big as a fish bowl.

The sound of Sean’s laughter drew her eyes to the pool table, where he leaned against the edge, laughing with his friends. His buddy Patrick seemed to think today was his own personal celebration, even though he was half Russian and half Swedish. Still, Kelly couldn’t imagine spending a St. Patrick’s Day without the big lug.

She sauntered across the room, feeling sexy in Sean’s favorite mini skirt. She brushed aside the girl who had roped her man with her green silk scarf—teasing him with one green fingernail scraping down his chin—and didn’t even make eye contact with the drunk guy who asked her to kiss his blarney stones. She was even able to ditch the green beer on an empty table.

“Remember that one year when we slept St. Pats off at my mom’s house?” Patrick drained his glass. “And I didn’t aim well, and she was bitching about the mess on the toilet?

“But Patrick, why is it green?” Patrick and Sean mimicked in unison. The story was as old and stale as the beer stains on the pool table, but Kelly couldn’t help but smile along with them, while simultaneously feeling sorry for Patrick’s mother.

“We could fill a book with the stuff we did to your poor mom.” Finally Sean caught her eye, and gave her that sexy smile that melted her. The dimple in his cheek was one of the first things that attracted her to him two years ago, and he still had the power to make her earlobes pink with that grin. The knowledge that he had the ability to kiss her senseless with those lips, and his talented tongue was enough to get her knickers in a knot, and make her nipples perk.

“Hello, love.” He set his pool cue aside and pulled her into his arms. “You’re looking mighty fine tonight.”

Kelly snuggled into his embrace, stepping between his leather boots. “So are you. I was just standing over there wondering if you were ready to go home and search for my pot of gold.”

He chuckled, and kissed her through his smile. “I thought you wanted to shut this place down with Patrick, but when you put it that way—”

“Dude!” Patrick slugged Sean hard enough to jostle Kelly. “You can’t leave early, you’re my ride.”

“You live two blocks away. It wouldn’t kill you to walk.” Sean elbowed back. “You really think I’d choose you over this tasty morsel?”

“I don’t blame you for being whipped. I might just be a little jealous.”

Right on cue, a cute little brunette approached them, stealing Patrick’s attention away. Kelly took advantage and dragged Sean through the door.

“You really think I’m tasty?”

Sean spun her around, and pinned her against the wall, the cold brick seeping through her jeans and sweater, emphasizing his heat pressed against her front.

“Hmm, I can’t remember. Let me taste…” He kissed her, sending his tongue on a ravishing tour through her mouth, and nibbling and licking her lips. “Delicious.”

Kelly sighed. “Take me home, Sean.”

Thanks for stopping by! Good luck in the drawing! We’ll be chatting on Saturday 3/19 at 7pm at Gem Sivad’s Place. I hope you can join us…we have a lot of fun.

See you there!

(c) 2011 Michael Clothier

“Cut!” The director stormed onto stage, waving his bottled water around in frustration, the condensation hitting everyone watching.

Juan had been kneeling on the hardwood stage for about an hour, and his kneecaps were throbbing. Carlie’s sigh was not only audible, but her slumping shoulders clearly showed her frustration.

“Juan, you’re supposed to be proposing, not chewing glass. What’s with the pinched up face?”

Juan fell back on his butt, and let the rose roll out of his hand. “It’s called pain, Frank. I can’t kneel on this stage for hours on end without feeling a little bit of pain.”

Frank snorted. “Love hurts. Now we’re gonna can this scene before lunch if it kills me—” He took a long drink of water, probably to replenish the moisture he was sweating out. “—or you. Get it right so you and your knees can stop bitching. Now places everyone!”

Juan ground his molars together. He rolled back onto his knees, and picked up the fake rose. The obnoxious bell rang, along with Frank’s bellow for quiet on the set. Juan looked up at Carlie, hoping his contrite face conveyed his apology.

She smiled, a sweet understanding grin, and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Get it right this time, and I’ll show you the silky red teddy I bought for our date on Valentine’s Day.”

“And…action!”

Thanks for stopping by, everyone. I hope you all have a great Valentines Day. Good luck in the drawing!

As soon as I saw this picture, I saw the following scene. It’s pretty obvious, so I won’t be surprised if it’s duplicated by another blogger today. Still, here’s my version:

Cindy glared at her brother and his fiancée. “Would you two knock it off? If Greg and I are going to hook up, it certainly won’t be with you around.” The man in question had leaned over the bar to order another beer. Camilla and Carson had been playing matchmakers for months. They’d finally managed to get Cindy and Camilla’s brother Greg in the same place at the same time. From the beginning of the New Years party, they’d been pushing their siblings into conversation, and even using the open bar as a tongue-loosener.

“You have to admit, Cin, the guy is perfect for you.” Greg poured another glass of champagne for Camilla before emptying the bottle into his own glass. “Hell, you two haven’t stopped talking since the party started.”

Cindy watched Greg, and more specifically, the brunette at the bar that inched closer as Greg waited for his drink. “Yeah, he’s a good guy.” And cute. And both mentally and financially stable. And interesting. And he smelled good…

“I can vouch for him,” Camilla winked. “As a matter of fact, I can give you some great dirt about his formative years.”

Cindy fiddled with her plastic orange armband. She would never admit to either Carson or Camilla that she’d been attracted to Greg since they met at their siblings’ engagement party last summer. She’d even awoke from a few dreams starring Greg. The fact that they’d finally connected during this New Year’s party was only giving her more hope.

“You’d better get another drink. They’re about to count down to midnight.” Carson shoved her toward the bar.

Cindy went along with the ruse, because she secretly wanted to wedge herself between Greg  and the brunette.

“Good luck getting a drink,” Greg leaned over to speak directly into her ear, though the bar wasn’t loud enough to warrant it. “They’re pretty busy.”

“Ten…nine….eight…” The entire bar started to chant.

“Oh no!” Cindy covered her mouth in mock surprise. “But I have to have a drink for the toast. How else can I bring in the new year?”

“…five…four…three…two…”

“How about this?” Greg spun her into his arms and covered her surprised mouth with his.

Cindy slipped her arms around his back and opened her mouth to his marauding tongue, and she barely heard the crowd shouting, “Happy New Year!”

Okay, I might have gone a bit long with that, but I couldn’t stop in the middle! Okay, on with the Hop. See you at the end, I’ll be in the chat room during the designated times, I hope to meet some of you there!