Thanks to the wonders of modern medicine, a talented surgeon, the monumental support of family and friends, and the Good Lord I’m colon cancer free! One of those in the promised 92 percent cure rate group. Hooray!
Although, through the necessary CT scan, they did discover a cyst on one ovary they want to look into. “Most likely nothing,” the doctor says. “But, we need to be sure.” It seems having this type of growth when you’re pre-menopausal is common. Post, like me, not so much. Sounds a little like age discrimination, don’t you think?
I prefer to believe I’m young at heart.
At any rate, for the next however many years, my blood and various other internal organs will be scrutinized by the medical professionals with the care and precision of a proof reader going over the final, formatted galley of a romance novel manuscript.
I can certainly, and literally, live with that.
Speaking of formatted galley proofs, I recently sent mine back to Ally Robertson, Crimson Rose editor extraordinaire at The Wild Rose Press for my to be released by summer romantic suspense On the Surface. All part of the upcoming series Brothers in Blue.Try this on for a blurb:
Wrongly convicted ex-con and recent parolee Jenny Reynolds wants to forget her tarnished past and focus on a brighter future. One that begins with a return to the small tourist town where she grew up. There, she hopes to find peace while she restores her family’s once proud Rest Easy Bed and Breakfast. Fleeing an ex who refuses to let her go, the last thing she needs is the complication of another man.
Then she meets handsome handyman Brad Collins, a man who seems to care as much about restoring the B and B as she does. A man who soon becomes ready, willing and able to steal her heart. A man with more than a few secrets of his own. A dropout from law enforcement, the real Brad Collins will use anyone and anything to fulfill a personal vendetta.
When two pasts collide and danger threatens, their growing love may be the first casualty.
Now an excerpt:
He walked behind the counter, alert for unwelcome company, and pushed through swinging café doors to a small hallway. Light spilled onto the linoleum from a room a ways down and to the left. He reached its doorway in long, silent strides then paused just outside. A woman sat at a cluttered desk with her head bent over a bunch of papers, her face obscured by a mass of red, curly hair.
Granny must be into dye jobs.
He advanced a few steps forward then cleared his throat. “I’m looking for the owner?”
“What?” She jerked upright then stood so fast her vacated chair hit the opposite wall with a clang. “What for?”
Flexing her knees and curling her hands to fists, she put her body into a distinct fight or flight stance.
On instinct, he scanned for a weapon. Instead, he discovered a simple sundress hugged a slim waist. The flowered material covered what looked to be some darned nice breasts, judging by the cleavage peeking out. Her shoulders were bare. Knockout legs led to trim ankles and bare toes tipped in pink polish. His hasty assessment rose to her face where he locked gazes with none other than Jenny Reynolds. Who, according to sources he trusted, wasn’t supposed to be on site for a couple of weeks. Where the heck is Grandma?
His breathing accelerated. Forget that this Reynolds chick was one whole hell of a lot better looking in the flesh than in a mug shot he’d seen. Something else hadn’t appeared in the grainy picture. Raw fear lurked in those wide green eyes. He’d witnessed that kind of deep panic before.
Regret stabbed at his gut. “Hey! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Who are you?” A slight tremor betrayed an otherwise tough voice as she retrieved the chair to position between them.
“Brad Collins.” Edging into the room, he turned slightly so his field of vision included both ends of the hallway. Just in case Donahue happened to be on premises too. He spread his hands up and open. “Look, if it’ll make you more comfortable, I’ll go back outside and knock.”
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