Wife to an Army veteran, mother of four, rescuer of animals, lover of history, and general scribe.
Bestselling books: Rebekah's Quilt (Amish fiction, first in a series), A Heart on Hold (historical romance, first in a series), The ABC's of Oklahoma Plants (children's nonfiction), The ABC's of Texas Plants (children's nonfiction), and The Big Bad Wolf Really Isn't so Big and Bad (children's nonfiction).
Welcome back, sorry I'm running behind. Back to school has thrown my schedule askew. Popping back into the Italian hospital room . . . Several more people had wandered in and one even left the door propped with his foot.
I glanced at Charlie, nervous, feeling Italian eyes burning through my skin. This was more embarrassing than when I had
to give a urine sample at the post clinic and, while trying to manage my
four-year-old and two-year-old, wound up spilling the entire cup of pee in my pants.
“Ask if I get a sheet,” I begged.
The nurse produced a piece of a sheet,
wide as a wash cloth and long as about five of them. I wiggled out of my
clothes as he tried to shield me with the sad excuse for a sheet. “I had no
idea it would be like this.” Over the sheet, I watched as the nurse unfurled
two giant metal stirrups from the end of the exam table; ones that resembled massive
candy canes and, if I was looking at them right, my feet didn’t rest in them,
but my legs went up and over them. A
fleeting vision of King Henry VIII’s torture chamber popped into my mind. A
deep cramp bent me over the table. Thanks for popping by. To get back to the other Weekend Writing Warriors, click here!
The fourth and final installment of the Indian Em'ly Saga is here . . . and just .99 cents! This is by far my favorite of the series, and I hope it will be yours too. Get yours here! BLURB Twelve-year-old Knocks Down and his little sister, Cactus Flower, manage to escape the evil orphanage along with a new pale face friend, Kid McCoy. But once they escape, they are set upon by a gang of murdering claim jumpers who steal Cactus and leave Knocks Down for dead.
Determined to find his little sister, Knocks Down gets to the nearest town where they’ve taken her, only to discover she has been sold as a slave! With Kid McCoy’s help, Knocks Down goes after her. Escaping once more, they encounter an old nemesis, a soldier from the nearby fort that was responsible for their mother’s death—and he’s set on seeing Knocks Down and Cactus Flower dead, as well.
How can a boy defeat a battle-hardened soldier? Just when Knocks Down is about to give up, the biggest surprise of all changes everything on THE JOURNEY HOME… EXCERPT The day passed quickly and in relative silence until Kid realized something. “Say Chief, where is it we’re headed, anyway?” I scanned the foreign horizon, an odd feeling suddenly gripping my backbone. “South,” I whispered, “back home, to the land of the Comanche.” Without thinking, I dropped to a crouch and let every sound fade away. Chirping birds, whistling wind, even the breath of Cactus and Kid. Every sound disappeared except the one that had pricked my ear and shot the rash of tingles in the first place. “Something has happened nearby.” Cactus slipped her hand into mine. “I hear it, too. Let’s go.” Kid scratched his head. “What’d I miss? I don’t hear nothin’.” By the time we arrived at what was left of the pale face camp, Kid heard it too. The dog’s whimpering had grown louder with each step, and more mournful. There hadn’t been but six people in camp, two of them children, and no survivors. The dog, a hulking black beast with pointed ears, low hips and a long tail, lay by the body of the girl. Whining, he licked her face and nuzzled her hands, as if trying to wake her from a deep sleep.
Welcome back to this week's ten-sentence snippet from MISSI WANDERIN' IN THE WOODS. Click here if you would like to be a part of my blog tour for my forthcoming Amish Western, Old Amarillo, September 4-11, courtesy of Loving the Book blog tours. I would be honored to be hosted by my WeWriWa friends! Find my launch party on the 3rd of September here! Without further ado, let's see what's in store for Sara and Charlie and the baby they may have already lost .
I bit back a sob. “I understand, but I’d
really like a sonogram to be sure.”
“Go on about your business and if you’re
still cramping Tuesday, come into the walk-in clinic. After all, you’re just
ten weeks along.”
Too upset to talk anymore, I handed the
phone off to Charlie, slunk to the bedroom, and buried my head in the pillow. The next morning after
dropping the kids off at the on-post childcare facility, Charlie packed me into
our pink and purple Volkswagen Beetle – Pink Floyd edition and took me to the
Italian Emergency Room, or l’ospedale.
The nurse pulled us back first, before the
patients sitting in the strap-backed wheelchairs and through the jungle of glass bottles
that dangled from threatening IV poles that would have looked more at home in a
1960’s mental institution, and into a room no larger than a humble office with wood
paneling and magazine pictures of wolves taped onto the wall. A small exam table sat
off to the side, almost out of place amid the tangle of books and misbegotten
papers. The doctor, who hadn’t looked up from his work since we walked in,
mumbled something in Italian before turning around expectantly.
“Strip now,” the nurse translated brusquely, “waist
Thank you for popping by. Follow this link to get back to the other contributors for the weekly Weekend Writing Warriors blog hop where authors in all phases of publication post eight to ten sentences of the work of their choice and add their link so that readers may enjoy their work. Comments from others are what make this something we all look forward to each week, so feel free to let those fingers fly and tell how you feel about this and all of our snippets!
Welcome back to this week's snippet from Missi. Last week, our characters feared a miscarriage. Find out what happened next. “I’m afraid I’ve lost our baby.” The
cramping was enough to double me over and the onslaught of impending hysteria
wasn’t helping. Charlie put me to bed and called the clinic on post. As luck
would have it, we were at the beginning of a four-day weekend.
"I’m sure it’s just a simple miscarriage,”
the nurse explained, nonchalant. It sounded as though she were sucking on a lollipop. “God
does these things, let it happen naturally.” Then, she waited, letting her end of the line grow silent. Thank you for popping by. Follow this link to get back to the other contributors for the weekly Weekend Writing Warriors bloghop where authors in all phases of publication post eight to ten sentences of the work of their choice and add their link so that readers may enjoy their work. Comments from others are what make this something we all look forward to each week, so feel free to let those fingers fly and tell how you feel about this and all of our snippets!
Welcome back! Last week, we got a peek into soldier Charlie's softer side when he insisted they go back to the Italian pound and adopt the twin brother of the little dog we'd just given a home. Thoughts of our puppies fizzled as I glanced from my ring to his haggard face
and rested my hands on my belly again. Charlie seemed to read my thoughts. “I
am so, so sorry Sara, I love all of you, Lil’ Grub, too.”
Emotion threatened to choke me as I
remembered the night we almost lost our baby. I was ten weeks along and we’d
just made love. I went to the restroom to get ready for bed and discovered I
was bleeding. Big black clots trailed by bright red blood covered the bottom of
the tiny European toilet. I called for Charlie through a veil of
tears. Follow this link to get back to the rest of the amazing Weekend Writing Warriors.