Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been interested in politics my entire life, but today I heaved a sigh of relief.
The last primaries are today and I thought how wonderful it would be to turn on the television and watch a show. Then I realized the political coverage will be overwhelming over the next few months. I laughed so hard my sides hurt when I heard one announcer claim this election is going to be offensive and full of attack ads.
The news media is so weird.
I did research for my historical: Another Love. and found politics have always been vicious. President Cleveland was the object of terrible accusations. If you study history these candidates are mild.
Madison and Jefferson were vitriolic. The only thing they didn’t accuse each other of was murder. The newspapers were full of hateful and nasty comments. Laws about slander didn’t exist.
It seems with the advent of radio then television the speech is muzzled.
Curse words and wild talk are controlled by ‘rules’, but the exchange of insults has already begun.
If you’re really interested you can research any of the previous elections for laughs.
As for me, I thinks I’m turning off my television.
Some promises are made to be broken.
Caught in a web of political intrigue, graft and threats to a beloved child, Meg Warren and Drew Larkin hunt the men threatening the downfall of President Cleveland and the economic fabric of America. From a poor farm to the ostentatious world of New York’s elite, they sift lies, discover trust and an attraction they cannot resist. The last thing they expect to find is a love worth more than gold.
North of New York City
"Ma, Ma," a high-pitched voice yelled. "He looks dead."
Andrew Larkin cursed as agony knifed up his thigh and threatened to split his skull, but he struggled onto his elbows. He squinted as an assortment of human shapes floated and danced before his blurred vision. Bright New England sunlight shattered into a rainbow of colors around a skinny young girl in a dark brown frock and wrinkled white pinafore. Her grimy fingers dug in the furry neck of the huge mongrel panting into Drew’s face. He inhaled the acrid odor of fresh manure from the nearby fields.
"I’m. Not. Dead." He said as a slender coverall-clad figure crouched in the road next to him. Urgency set his nerves to thrumming. President Cleveland couldn’t wait. He had to get moving. "Why don’t you help me back onto my horse, son? If your Ma gets here, I’ll let her take a look."
"I am Ma," she snapped impatiently as she jerked free the battered straw hat shading her face and settled back onto her bare heels. Shockingly thick auburn hair, fastened with a leather thong, tumbled down her back. Her face clearly showed her resentment at the way his gaze moved over the way her baggy overalls snugged her flared hips, clearly outlining her shapely derriere. A flush burned red flags on her cheeks. "Your leg is bleeding, mister, and…"
To his amazement, her fingers brushed like butterfly wings over his face and through his tumbled hair. He flinched when she probed a tender spot behind his ear.
"You took quite a wallop on the head. Hold still."
She wiped her perspiring brow with a sun-browned forearm, then pulled a worn jackknife from her hip pocket, flipped the blade open and calmly proceeded to cut away his bloodstained pant leg. The little girl whimpered.
"Don’t be afraid, Martha. He’ll be fine," Her cultured voice flowed over him like warm honey, soothing as a mother’s lullaby.
The child frowned, but her whimpers ceased.
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