Posted by: Author | April 15, 2020

Wordless Wednesday


Painted on a fence near my  office.

Posted by: Author | April 13, 2020

Tuesday Tales- Picture Prompt

I wasn’t able to do Tuesday Tales this week due to a lot of my work cases getting moved due to co-vid to be heard  by phone and they are all coming up for hearing now.  BUT it is picture prompt week and there are some good tales going on so I thought I’d share the pictures the authors are writing to. Each tale is limited to 300 words today. Check them out here.  


tt 4 14 5tt 4 14 4tt 4 14 3TT 4 14 2

Posted by: Author | April 6, 2020

Tuesday Tales- April 7, 2020- Pink

This week, the Tuesday Tales writers are writing to the word prompt pink.  This is still my Regency story but it is now done so this is the last I’ll be sharing of it until it comes out.

Check out the other tales here

new TT Feb 2018

Trying not to cry, Honora stood straighter as she headed down the corridor. She’d survive this night like she had many times before. It didn’t matter. Tomorrow, she could go riding in Rotten Row and soothe herself with her best friend, Shadrach. A horse with no equal. Riding him always made her feel accepted and powerful.

Mary soon arrived and helped Honora into her gown. “Miss Honora?”


“I don’t want to be impertinent, but I’d like to set your hair a different way this evening. I had a thought and want to try it.”

Honora didn’t think how she wore her hair would make her any more attractive to the men at the ball, but she wanted to encourage Mary to grow and improve herself. “Go ahead. I’m sure it’ll look wonderful.”

She sat still while Mary tended to her. It was always nice to have the gentle maid work on her. Too bad she was always last served, but being the youngest sister, she supposed it was fair.  It wasn’t one more thing wrong with her life. It was merely the birth order.

When Mary completed Honora’s hair, she assisted her into her gown. It was a lovely color of pale pink that Honora chose at the dressmakers. Charlotte said it was insipid and it probably was, but it was easier to fade into the background and not be so noticeable when your garment blended into the walls of the ballroom. Honora knew their hosts’ décor was cream and white, so she purposely chose the color.

She peered into the looking glass. Her hair did look nice the way it was styled. Making eye contact with Mary, she said, “Thank you. I think it suits me.”

Mary clapped her hands. “Do you really like it, Miss?”

“I do. We should use this more often.”

“I’m so happy you’re pleased.”

Posted by: Author | March 23, 2020

Tuesday Tales – March 24, 2020- Flower

This week’s word prompt for the writers of Tuesday Tales is Flower.  I am still working on the Regency novel.

Check out the other tales here. 

new TT Feb 2018


A knock on the door interrupted them. “Come along, snail. You’re going to make us late. I don’t want to miss the first dance.”

Honora moved to the door. She knew if she didn’t get there quickly enough, Charlotte would barge in.

Sure enough, before she could reach the door, her sister flung it open, almost catching Honora in the face.

“I was on my way. You don’t have to break the doorjamb. Never fear, your dance card will be filled almost before we’re even announced.”

“You better hope so, or you’ll be the one I blame.” Charlotte turned on her heel and pranced down the corridor. “Don’t dawdle.”

Since there would be no tolerating her sister if she didn’t get her way, Honora followed at a quick pace, almost tripping over the front hem of her gown in the process. She thought it was too long at the time it was altered, but didn’t want to cause a scene and didn’t speak up. Now, it looked like she might regret that choice. What if she fell at the ball and humiliated herself?

Even worse, if she did, Charlotte would hate her more than ever. Not that she really thought Charlotte hated her. That would take too much effort from the girl. More like she tolerated her.

“Why are you insisting on walking so slowly? It’s not like when you were presented to the queen. It’s our own hallway. Come on.” Charlotte stomped down the front staircase.

It was all Honora could do not to laugh. Her sister who wanted to present the appearance of a fine, delicate flower was clomping around like an elephant. What if all those marvelous suitors of hers could see her now?

Posted by: Author | March 9, 2020

Tuesday Tales- March 10, 2020- Picture Prompt

This week is a picture prompt. The writers of Tuesday Tales chose from a series of photos and are limited to 300 words.

Check out the other tales here. 

new TT Feb 201887475688_10218669859596462_1517276254775017472_o


Downstairs, James searched the crowd. Still no sign of Honora. Her mother and Charlotte were in the group waiting to be escorted into dinner. He made his way to them. “Is Miss Honora coming down?”

“Why are you so worried about her? She’s never been one to like balls. I wouldn’t be surprised if she skipped it altogether,” Charlotte said.

“She’s a guest in my home and no one has seen her for hours. I’d like to know if she’s all right.”

“We haven’t seen her, Your Lordship,” Mrs. Marlowe said. “I confess, I’ve become a bit frightened.” She fiddled with the emerald choker at her neck.

It was past time to be frightened in James’s mind. He scoured the crowd for Hugh Spencer.

Spotting him, he excused himself to all the guests between him and his friend.

When he arrived at Hugh’s side, he said, “Miss Honora Marlowe has been missing since before midday. Will you assist me in finding her? I’ll have some of the men of the estate rounded up as well.”

“Of course. Immediately.” Hugh squeezed his wife’s arm. “”Excuse me, darling.”

“Certainly. Please find the poor child.”

James turned to find his mother to alert her to the situation.

Charlotte stood at his feet. In the way.

“Don’t make a big deal about this. She’s probably in the stables. She always goes to the horses when she’s upset.”

Remembering when he found her crying on Aloysius’s mane, he snapped his fingers. “Yes. You’re probably right.”

“Then send a footman to fetch her. No need in ruining the evening’s dancing.”

He stared at her in horror. How can she be so unkind? About her own sister.

Posted by: Author | March 2, 2020

Tuesday Tales- March 3, 2020- Dirt

Sorry I’ve been missing Tuesday Tales. I’ve been out of town a lot and am even heading out again on Wednesday. I haven’t been writing much so I went back in my Regency story and grabbed some paragraphs that include the word prompt this week. This is closer to the beginning of the story than I’ve been sharing before.  The word this week is dirt.

Check out the other tales here.

new TT Feb 2018

Inside, as she waited for her parents to be announced, she glanced around at the glittering crowd. There was no shortage of jewels and tiaras here. It was too much dazzle for her taste, but she knew from growing up in this world—even in the periphery—that the women here took the competition to be the best and brightest in the room very seriously. She’d never understand the importance of that. Many times, she wondered why she was born into this way of life when she’d have been content to be the wife of a sheepherder.

Honora repressed a giggle. It was clear there were no sheepherders here. There were probably a number of earls present who owned sheep but they certainly wouldn’t get dirt on their own hands by shearing the animals themselves. What she loved about being around animals was touching them, talking to them and making sure they were well looked after. She’d never be successful as the wife of the landowner who only made sure the farms on his estate were tenanted and collected the rents. Not that she need worry about that. If no eligible bachelor spoke to you at a ball, chances were, you would end up a spinster as your sister predicted.

Determined to find a place to hunker down and pass the time, she spied a quiet corner with a big green plant in a lovely urn. There were some chairs nearby and one could easily be moved behind it with no one being the wiser.

“Meet us at midnight for dinner,” her mother said as soon as they were cleared into the ballroom. She winked at both girls. “Unless you have a young man ask you to partake with him.”

Charlotte smiled as two men headed straight toward her. “I’m sure I’ll see you when the ball is over, Mama. I’m positive I’ll have many offers for company at the meal.” She glanced in Honora’s direction. “I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with one daughter.”

There was no reason for her sister to always be mean to her, but it was like she couldn’t help it. Honora missed the days before the marriage quest. They used to get along when they were in the country. There were a few girls from the village who they played with for a time, but then Charlotte would lure them away and Honora would be left out again.

Now the sisterly bond was stretched too far and they hardly ever spent any time together. Maybe when Charlotte married, she’d become kinder.

Honora shook her head at that fancy. Charlotte was Charlotte. No man would stand a chance if he thought he could change her. That was probably why the two ardent admirers she was sure would propose last season left London altogether.

Posted by: Author | February 26, 2020

Wordless Wednesday


Photo by Sharon Peek©

I received this book at no cost in exchange for an honest review. 513wLH+cX1L

The murders first caught my attention when the family of Christopher Watts went missing. It particularly grabbed my eye because of the way he behaved on interviews I saw on television.

I’ve been the victim of narcissistic abuse in my life by someone who I thought was a friend for a very long time. I ignored a lot of her behavior as her just being different, but as time went on, I realized she really had a deeply rooted mental problem. I put up with her treatment of me until one chilling moment when I realized I needed to cut off the friendship/relationship. I began to research and learn about narcissism, attachment disorder and the various traits of someone with those personality disorders.

When I saw the TV footage of this man, Chris Watts, I saw my former friend in his actions and in his demeanor and lack of affect. His demeanor was completely inappropriate for the circumstances he was in. It was alarming to watch and I knew then he’d done something awful to his family.

When given the chance to read this book, I was already curious about his mental makeup and since the author is a psychotherapist, I was intrigued to read it and get her perspective.

I wasn’t disappointed. She had meticulously researched the case as well as reviewing the forensic evidence. This included text messages from Shanann, Chris and his paramour as well as reviews of police reports, court transcripts, and interviews. Her discussions of certain mental disorders was intriguing. How she showed what was in Chris’ mind and his lack of remorse for his actions was validating in many ways with behavior I’ve witnessed for myself in my own experience. Of course, my experience wasn’t fatal, but so much of what she said rang true. I found myself nodding along as I read her words.

This was a horrific crime and this man should never be freed – it’s clear from the analysis of Derhally he doesn’t have the ability to feel remorse or be reformed.

The book was a hard read- not because it was complicated but because it was so tragic. Shanann trusted the wrong man – the man she thought loved her and her children. My heart hurts for her family and friends.  I recommend this book – to TRY to understand this case.  Those of us with normal psyches will have a difficult time understanding Chris Watts’ brain, but Derhally sheds light in those dark corners.

Posted by: Author | February 19, 2020

Wordless Wednesday


Posted by: Author | February 10, 2020

Tuesday Tales- February 11, 2020- Picture Prompt

It’s picture prompt week for the Tuesday Tales authors. I chose the window picture.  We are limited to 300 words this week. I’m still in my Regency set story.

Be sure to check the other tales here

new TT Feb 2018

tt 1


Honora could tell better now the height of the drop out the window. It wasn’t quite as high as she thought when she looked down in the dark before she passed out from whatever was in the poultice. She shook her head again, unsure if it appeared closer because her vision was still somewhat blurry or if it truly wasn’t as far.

It’s now or never. That old woman will be finding her way up here soon. I’m sure of it. She probably has an idea how long I’d be asleep by the amount of poison in the poultice.

Relieved she hadn’t placed the stinky thing on her chest as instructed since she might even be dead by now, Honora made her decision. She was going out the window. Even if she broke something, she had to try. Sitting here waiting for her fate wasn’t something she relished.

She hefted the lower edge of the pane. It was painted onto the sill.

Glancing around for an item she could use as a weapon she found a letter opener on the one table in the room. In her search for something that could work better, she shoved all the papers to the floor. A few letters tied in ribbon landed at her feet.

Squinting at them as she couldn’t bend over due to dizziness, she thought they were addressed to Charles Lockwood.

Honora knelt down to get them and fell on her rear. Suppressing her laughter at her involuntary drunkenness, she shoved the packet in the bosom of her gown. They might come in handy at some point in time.

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