Bus Ride to Love, from Autumn's Gold

When the bus stopped to change drivers again, it was late afternoon. Ellen’s headache had subsided to a dull echo. Too bad the music hadn’t.

She roused herself just enough to peer out the bus window. The snow was now falling faster, flakes the size of silver-dollar pancakes. Having grown up here in the northern Midwest, Ellen remembered how quickly this kind of snow could accumulate.

She stretched her cramped legs and debated making a trek into the bus station. They were scheduled to stop for supper, but right now she could sure use something hot to drink. She had very nearly decided to escape inside, if just to get away from the loud music for a few moments, when he stepped inside the bus. Ellen’s first thought was that Paul Bunyan had tromped down out of the north woods to look for Babe the Blue Ox. Then she noticed the gray jacket with the bus-line emblem on the shoulder and realized this was their new driver.

He stood at the front of the bus, surveying them all with a gaze of pure steel. Burly wasn’t the word to describe him. More like massive. His chest was wide and the sleeves of the jacket strained over bulging biceps. Musclemen didn’t usually do much for Ellen, but she had the feeling this fellow came by his brawn quite honestly. He’d probably never seen the inside of a workout gym or health club in his life.

With cool gray eyes, he swept over the rows of passengers and settled at last on the three orange-haired rockers. Ellen saw his jaw clamp down hard.

“My name is Douglas Maddock,” he finally spoke, his voice a deceptively soft sound that could be heard even above the music. “I’ll be your driver for the next eight hours, possibly longer if this weather keeps up. I’m telling you right now, I don’t believe in pushing it in a storm. I’ll go as fast as I think it’s safe to go and not a bit faster. If you’re late to your destination, at least I’ll have done my best to get you there alive.”

His gaze traveled again, and for a few seconds it rested on Ellen where she had scrunched down in her seat. A tentative smile threatened the corners of his stern mouth, especially when he noticed her proximity to Derry’s Deviates.

 Bracing his big hands on his hips, he glared at them.

“Now,” he gave them his full attention. “I don’t know what in the hell has been going on in this bus since it left Chicago, but you better know that I won’t put up with it. This means if you must play music, it will be played at a tolerable level. And I’m talking about tolerable to the rest of us. The first person who violates this will be put out of the bus, and I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the North Dakota prairie.”

 

 

Stop by for tomorrow's excerpt from Legacy of Love.



Autumn's Gold: an excerpt from Patchwork Autumn

     This is an excerpt from my fourth e-book collection of short stories that will soon be available on Kindle. In Patchwork Autumn, Marty Cutter is raising her young niece on Shadow Mountain, Montana. When Jenny becomes sick, Marty rushes her to the clinic in town...where she meets Dr. Patrick Brady, a man with sparkling Irish blue eyes and a knack for doling out a healthy dose of encouragement to a doubtful Marty. But when he asks her to make a special quilt for him, she has to wonder, who will he give it to?

"To Marty’s relief, the snow went north the way it sometimes did in early autumn. But after another sleepless night waiting for Jenny’s fever to break, she felt ready to drop. When the fever finally did leave, the child fell into a deep sleep. Wrapped in a quilt, Marty curled into her cricket rocker and dozed off. In the late afternoon someone knocked at the door. To her surprise, Dr. Brady waited on the cabin’s front porch, the collar of his flannel-lined denim jacket turned up against the wind that whistled through the lodge pole pines.

Marty quickly pulled open the door and let him in.

“Dr. Brady, are you lost?”

He shook off the cold and set down his black medical bag.

“Isn’t this Shadow Mountain?”

“Yes, of course, but why are you here?” Was Jenny’s illness more serious than he’d let on?

 He saw her frown. “Not to worry. Just making some home visits. It’s something I worked out with the county when I started at the clinic. I know there are other folks up here that might have a problem getting into town.”

He glanced around the cabin, his perusal taking in the simple but cozy surroundings. His gaze rested on the piles of colorful quilt squares piled next to Marty’s sewing machine, then drifted to the sofa where Jenny slept snugly wrapped in the pink and turquoise quilt Marty had made when she’d first brought her niece home with her.

“How is she doing today? Did the fever break this morning?”

Marty set aside the quilt from around her shoulders and went to Jenny’s side. The doctor followed.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“It’s just the way this particular bug has been working on kids.” He felt the child’s forehead, then took out his stethoscope, warming the diaphragm before listening to her breathing through it. Jenny never stirred, and it was a relief to see her resting so much easier than the past few days.

“Lungs sound clear. She’s sleeping well. I’d say Jenny is on the mend. She’ll probably wake up famished. You’re an excellent guardian, Ms. Cutter.”

He turned and gave her that charming smile. The effect sent a zing shooting along Marty’s backbone and her knees went weak. For a moment she wavered, and then the doctor took her by the arm and led her to the rocker, pushing her gently to sit.

“Okay, open up.” He flicked on his flashlight and peered down her throat, touched a light hand to her forehead. “Are you feeling ill? No nonsense now.”

“It’s only that I haven’t slept well since Jenny’s been sick. Seriously, I’m all right, just tired.”

“Then it’s time you had a break. Doctor’s orders. Just tell me where you keep your coffee. I could use a good strong cup myself.” He shrugged off his jacket and hung it by the door.

“Sorry.” Marty said. “I don’t drink it. All I have is hot chocolate and herbal tea.”

He took the news with admirable stoicism. “Well, guess that will just have to do. I’ll make the best of it.”

He put up the tea kettle. Marty admitted to herself that it felt good to sit here and let someone else make the tea. She watched Dr. Brady move about the alcove of a kitchen. He was tall and lean, with a rangy look to him. Crinkle lines etched the corners of his eyes. Definitely a man who spent a good deal of time outdoors."

From Autumn's Gold: A Patchwork Autumn

Tomorrow, look for an excerpt from October Spell.

The Writing Process Blog Hop

Welcome to this week’s stop on the Writing Process Blog Hop! My friend and fellow author Margo Hoornstra tagged me to participate and share a little about how I write. You can see what Margo wrote on January 27^th about her writing process at http://www.margohoornstra.blogspot.com/.

Without further adieu, here is my take on the four questions each of us has answered.

1)      What am I working on? Some years ago, I had a number of short stories published in Woman’s World magazine. Currently, I’m working on updating those stories and putting them together in anthologies to publish on Amazon. I have two collections available for Kindle now, An Uncommon Prince and Other Short Stories and Sky of Magic. I'm hoping to have a third book ready shortly.

2)      How does my work differ from others of its genre? I would say the way these stories differ the most is that they are short stories rather than full length novels. They’re all romances and most have a theme of finding love in unexpected places.

3)      Why do I write what I do? Although I also write full length works, I like writing short stories because of the faster pace and because it takes less time to finish a story. My favorite part about writing romance of any length is the promise of a happy ending. While life is not always happy, we know and expect romance stories to end this way, and it gives the reader hope that it can be happy.

4)      How does my writing process work? I usually start out with a character, or two characters, and let them tell me their story. I’m not a total “pantser.” In longer works, I do like to write out a short synopsis of what I think will happen in the story before I begin it; but it’s not that detailed and I like to leave room for surprises to happen, for the characters to take the story in new directions. If I know too much ahead of time, it’s easy to lose interest. I’d rather find out as I write what is the real story. But I also like to have a bit of an outline to follow, just in case I get lost.

So that’s a little about how I write. If you’ve followed along on this blog hop, you’ve seen that it’s different for everyone and that there is no right way, only what works for you. Next week, be sure to check out the next stop on the Writing Process Blog Hop when Constance Bretes talks about her process at  http://conniebretes.weebly.com/connies-blog.html/. Connie has worked for the state of Michigan for over 35 years. About 5 years ago she decided to do something fun and started writing romance stories.  A member of Romance Writers of America and Mid-Michigan RWA, Connie is celebrating her first release--Delayed Justice--today from Beachwalk Press.