Small Scene

I can't wait for everyone to meet Maverick and Finley! 

Small Scene

Currently working on Stolen Dreams, so here is a small scene. 

“Please stop calling for Max. He’s worried that his new girlfriend will think something else,” he said. “He’s one of our starting pitchers and I’d prefer him to not be thinking about his girlfriend breaking up with him because my sister keeps calling him.” 

“Jennifer? I sat next to her at the last home game,” Margaret said as she piled her plate with food. “She’s chill and more secure in their relationship than Max thinks. We talked about her college classes. She wants to be a traveling nurse which would be perfect if Max ever gets transferred. I didn’t tell her that, but she knows.” 

“I don’t even know what Jennifer looks like, and my sisters have spoken with her. Perfect,” he said as he finished loading his plate with food. “Max won’t be happy about that.” 

“Do you know that you’re her favorite player?” Margaret asked between bites. 

“So, Max tells me,” he said as he looked at his sisters. “Girls, I need you to not scare any of my teammates or their girlfriends.” 

“Uh, we don’t,” Isabella said twirling her fork with food on it in the air. “We can’t help it if everyone wants to talk to us.” 

“You’re the main reason that the girlfriends talk to us. Most of them are cleat chasers anyway,” Edee said. “They think we’re their ticket to you.” 

“Oh dear,” their mother said. “Girls, don’t call other women cleat chasers.” 

“But they are,” Margaret said, stabbing her fork into her food. “It’s the proper term, momma.” 

“Be that as it may, we do not degrade other women in this household,” their mother said as she reached for her glass of tea. 

Life in the Moments

This is still one of my hardest scenes to write. I loved writing Amelia and Beau's painful journey. Life in the Moments is available in ebook, paperback, and hard cover. 

“Amelia, let me explain,” he said as he knelt down in front of her. 

“No, I think I understand completely,” she said as she moved away from him. “You don’t love me. I’m not the same woman you married. You made your point very clearly.” 

He nodded. 

“You’re right. You’re not the same woman I married,” he said slowly. “Your hair is gone. Your body is thinner. I would probably snap your arm if I turned my wrist too hard.” 

He watched as she sat on the edge of the bed. She looked fragile as if his words would break what was left of her. 

“You barely cook dinner. Or take care of the house. There are even days I wonder if you’ve changed clothes.” 

“I probably didn’t,” she whispered. 

He stood up, only to kneel in front of her again. 

“With all that, I’m more in love with you now than I was the day I said I do,” he said as he took her hands in his. 

“What?” she asked with tears running down her cheeks. 

The crack in her voice almost made him rethink telling her this. She didn’t need the stress, but she did need to hear what he was saying. 

“I see your strength radiating every moment your eyes are open. You even glow when you’re asleep. I loved your drive when we found out it was cancer. My heart broke, but you pushed to know what we could do. You wanted the plan when all I could think of was not losing you.” 

“I was scared,” she cried. 

“I know and I loved you for the courage you displayed. You never knew how much your diagnose changed me. I see life so differently now. I see colors in every movement of your body. I hear even the smallest sounds. You’ve brightened our world. And I can’t lose you now,” he stated as the tears tracked down his cheeks. 

“Beau,” she whispered as she pulled her hand from his to cup his cheek. 

“I love you more than I ever thought possible. I’m even jealous when you’re around other men now. You shine brightly even when you’re barely fighting. You draw people to you. I remember you walking down the aisle in your white dress. It was one of the happiest days of my life. The day the doctor said you had cancer was one of the worst.”

She nodded as she quietly wept. 

He took a deep breath before he continued.  

“At sixteen, you were my first love. At eighteen, my heartbreak. At twenty-one, my true love. At twenty-two, you were my fiancée. At twenty-four, my wife. At twenty-six, the mother of my son. At thirty-two, you were my sorrow. And at thirty-three, you became my fighter. When I told you I didn’t love you the same, I meant I love you more. I love the girl you were, the woman you turned into and now the woman you were forced to become. Amelia, I love you.” 

She cried as she looped her arms around his neck and sank to her knees. 

“I love you,” she whispered between sobs. 

He scooped her into his arms and laid her on the bed. “I never want you to question my love for you or my dedication to this family.” 

She wiped away her tears as she watched him come down beside her. 

“I’m sorry for questioning.” 

“No, it’s not your fault,” he said as he pulled her into his arms. “Marriage is hard work, but it takes both of us. I let the ball drop which caused you to question my love.” 

She sighed. “It was my insecurity. I didn’t know how you could want to be with me when I’m bald and so skinny, it’s unhealthy.” 

“Bald is beautiful,” he said as he kissed her bald head. “Rock your weakness so everyone questions if it is really a weakness.” 

She laughed as she snuggled deeper in his arms. 

Update

Is Maverick Donahue with his black hair, brown eyes, and dimples the answer to Finley's crippling anxiety?

Can the best baseball player this season coax his Rapunzel out of her tower?

I'm back on the keyboard typing out Maverick and Finley's story. Stay tuned for updates on the newest book in my Fairy Tales Series, Stolen Dreams.

Scene from Stolen Dreams

Happy Monday! Check out the scene from my upcoming book, Stolen Dreams. 

“Son, why are you skulking outside my office?” 

Maverick sighed as he walked into Finnegan ‘Finn’ Kincade’s office. His all-time favorite baseball player. 

And his mentor. 

This man helped him while he was still in high school. The legend thought he had potential in the majors, and he planned to show the world the “Flying Finn” wasn’t wrong about a kid from Michigan. 

“Are you busy?” Maverick asked as he sat in one of the office chairs in front of the massive desk. 

World Series baseballs lined the desk with a miniature wooden bat with the “Flying Finn” etched in black. There was one of those in his house. It was one of the few gifts his parents could afford for him. It was in a prized location under a glass case. It was more protected than the one he stared at on the desk, but who would steal from Finn? 

“Fine time to ask me when you took it upon yourself to walk in,” Finn said as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “But no, I’m not busy. I just finished another interview about my missing daughter. Every year it’s the same dog and pony show, but I still hope she’ll be found.” 

Maverick nodded. He knew what today was. 

The anniversary of the kidnapping of baseball royalty. It must suck to watch your wife give birth to your daughter only to be told someone stole her from the hospital. Who stole babies? Most people were trying to dump them, not steal them from nurses and hospitals. 

He remembered seeing her face on milk cartoons. 

Snippet

Since the edits and re-release of Cursed Soldier are complete, I've shifted back to Book 15: Stolen Dreams. Here is a small snippet from my upcoming book. 

She continued reading it and wondered when her mother would call her. Amy Dallas still hated baseball and the fact that her daughter loved it. All the lectures growing up about watching those men on the field were burned into her memory. 

Not just burned into her memory but the underside of her arm. Her mother forgot about the cigarette and burned her arm. She remembered the pain and her mother’s screams that it was Finley’s fault. The smoke caused her to cough until she had to stumble into her room for her inhaler. Unfortunately, it wasn’t her only burn mark. 

Her mother continued screaming at her for loving baseball. The men would take the women and use them for whatever they wanted, then toss them to the side. Amy wanted to know why her daughter would want that. 

She remembered gasping on the floor. Her arm and lungs burning. She cried as her mother slammed the door. It had been a while before she stood up and climbed into bed. She remembered setting her glasses on her bedside table. The tape had caught in her hair, but it was normal. Everything was blurry, but that was normal too. She’d needed new glasses for a few years now. Pulling the blanket up, the smell of smoke made her eyes water as she closed them. One thought ran through her mind. 

Why did her mother hate her?