It’s always a delight to bring to the readers a new chapter
in the life of people in Rebel’s Crossroads. As many well know, Rebel’s
Crossroads is a small sleepy little southern town. At its beginning, it was
known as the town of Fairpoint, named of course for the large plantation
founded by Archibald Saunders. At the time of the civil war, Archibald was made
a major in the Confederate Army. His job was simple to construct fort works
around the road that led to Richmond and keep the Yankees from stopping Lee in
his long retreat.
For three years, the town held, but when the main unit was
called to Appomattox, Saunders was left to hold the fort. Expecting the final
assault, Saunders hauls two massive cannons up to the cliff line above the town.
However, Sherman didn’t play by the Confederate rules. He splits his forces and
under the cover of a cloudy night splits his forces and by passes the town
making his famous “bowties” out of the rails. Saunder’s last chance at fighting
goes down in flames. Later, he will claim Sherman is afraid to fight. His
humiliation leads to the downfall of his marriage. The town becomes known as
Rebel’s Crossroads because of the many armies that traipse through.
I’ve introduced the readers to a Volunteer Fire Fighter
named Patrick Sullivan or Sully to his friends. He meets and falls in love with
Mitzi Stancil in a world-wind courtship in the novel, Playing With Fire.
In Random Acts of Kindness, the readers meet Muriel Lowe,
Rebel’s Crossroads answer to Lou Ella Parsons, Hollywood gossip columnist in
the 1940’s. Believe me, nothing gets my Miss Muriel. She plays matchmaker for Dan Rodgers and
Jocelyn Lankford, the local librarian.
This summer, it is my pleasure to bring to you the romance
between Stevie Darden and Michael Jennings. Not your typical romance, my
characters are bit older. Stevie has lost her husband in a tragic accident. And
in one final tribute, she drives his 1956 TBird to Daytona Beach to the Great
American Race.
Being an older couple, Stevie and Michael have their own set
of problems. Will their children approve? Are they being foolish to think that
love will strike twice? To find out, you’ll have to purchase your copy of Those
Summer Nights.
Here’s a little sample. I hope you’ll enjoy.
Winning her Heart…..
"Ticket, please."
Wallet in one hand, arm extended, Stevie held out the glossy, heavy
paper and waited for the young man to rip off the end and hand the stub back to
her.
"Thank you," she spoke softly, placing her wallet back into
the large shoulder bag before moving through the gate.
Florida was everything they said it would be, if you understood
"they" to mean her husband's old friends, who gathered around the TV
set out in the den on Sunday afternoons beginning the first of January to watch
the cars race around tracks all over the country. She pushed her white-framed
sunglasses onto her face and stepped out of the line of human traffic flowing
into the main gates of the superspeedway.
Stevie turned over her palm to
glance at the stub. Section X, seat thirty-three in the Lockhart Tower. This
shouldn't be too hard to find. Raising her glance to look at the signs, she
was surprised to see how many people filled the mezzanine. With a sigh, she
merged back into the throng, intent on making her way toward the elevator which
would take her up to the first floor of the grandstands that lined the raceway.
A sudden shove to the side
caught her off guard. Stevie tried to take a short step in order to catch her
equilibrium. However, her sandals tangled in the hem of her white cotton
trousers. With a frightened cry, she held out her hands and braced for a very
painful fall.
* * * * *
Michael Jennings was amazed
at the speed in which he had gotten through the line. Perhaps it was a good
thing his company had purchased those suite seats in the tower next to the main
grandstand. He hurried toward the elevator, slowing his gait so as not to step
upon the person in front of him. Up a head, a group of teenagers went rushing
past. He opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly one youth knocked into a woman
a few feet off to his right.
She tottered on her feet, only to tilt to the left. Michael stepped
around the person in front of him, rushed forward, and caught the willowy
auburn before her knees banged onto the rough pavement.
"Are you all right, Miss?" he asked.
Large green eyes flashed
uncertainly at him. He offered her his winning salesman smile and allowed her
to catch her breath. "Come on. Let's step over here to the bench."
She nodded, and he felt her body tremble. He led her to the park bench
out of the line of traffic. Then, knelt before her and placed his hands on
either side of her and spoke. "Ok, take a big deep breath and hold it for
ten seconds, then blow it out."
Her trembling fingers raked the russet curls from her face as she
looked back at him. Whatever she was thinking, the woman could at least follow
through with directions.
"M-my sunglasses," she stated, looking back in the direction
of the accident.
"Sit tight," Michael told her and moved back to the spot.
Making a circle and focusing on the ground, he combed the sidewalk until he
found the glasses. Bending down, he picked up the now twisted frames and
brought them back to her. "I'm afraid they're a bit worse for wear."
He held them out to her, the frames bent, one glass missing, the other
cracked.
"Oh," she breathed.
"Check your pocketbook to make sure nothing is missing," he
suggested, knowing that security was good and incidents were rare at race
events.
She pulled her large bag toward her and, opening it, then began to put
the contents on her lap. The bag contained the usual—brush, comb, a compact—but
Michael did admit he was intrigued when she picked up a key ring with a
business card instead of a photograph.
"Nope, it's all there." She looked up at him. This time, a
genuine smile lightened her face.
Warmth spiraled up and spread through his body, shocking him. He
felt…shoot, he felt like a teenager asking some girl out for the first time.
"I'm glad." He rose to his feet held out his hand. "I'm Michael
Jennings."
"Michael," She murmured. "You checked in at the hotel
last night."
He grinned. "Yeah, I did."
"I was behind you," she replied and dumped her things back
into the oversized bag. With that done, she grasped his hand with a firm grip
and shook back. "Hi, Stephanie Darden, but my friends call me
Stevie."
An electric current seemed to pass from his hand to hers then back
again. Her lips dipped for a second, but she quickly regained her composure as
she withdrew her hand. Michael didn't look away. His intense gaze made her
blush.
"I want to thank you for your kindness," she continued.
"Not a problem." Michael said with a nod. "I'm glad I
could do it." An awkward silence followed. He looked around but no one
seemed to be coming to her rescue. "So, is this your first event?"
Stevie turned toward the crowd, paused and looked back at him. Pink
crept to her cheeks. "How could you tell?"
Michael looked down and pointed. "Few women wear three-inch heel
sandals."
She laughed. His skin tingled
with the melodious sound.
"Next time wear tennis shoes," he remarked. "It's much
more practical."
"Yes, I can see that now."
A gust of wind blew by, and Stevie turned away, keeping the fine gravel
from flying into her eyes. The mass of curls shifted, and Michael had to hook
his thumbs in the pocket of his jeans to resist the urge to help draw it back
from her face. He wondered if those luscious locks were as soft and silky as
they appeared.
"Let's see if we can't get you a pair of shades," he murmured
his voice thick.
Taking her by the elbow, he led her across the way to one of the
vendors selling sunglasses, caps, and visors, all with the different driver's
logos on them.
"Let's see, I think," he narrowed his gaze to peruse the
frames, "maybe Bobby Labonte?"
"I don't think so." She shook her head. "I don't like
the color yellow."
"Ah." He nodded. "Hamlin? Waltrip? Edwards?"
With each name she shook her head.
"Why not give up, Mac," the vendor chuckled. "Let your
little lady decide?"
Michael shrugged. "Very well, Stevie, which suits your
fancy?"
Stevie bit her lip and searched the hundreds of items before pointing
to the red with the number 9 emblazoned on the side.
"Kasey Khane," he sighed with a shake of his head. "Now,
I would have put you down for a Dale Earnhardt woman." She chuckled again
and Michael felt his chest swell with pride. He reached back, pulled out his
wallet, and gestured toward the glasses and the cap. "One of each, please.
We can't have you burn that pretty nose."
Beside him, Stevie gasped in
surprise. "You can't pay for these," she hissed. Her hand went to his
arm. Her palm warming the flesh beneath his sleeve.
"I can't see why not," he countered.
"You don't even know me," she huffed.
"Of course I do," he assured her. "You're Stevie and I'm
Michael. I saved you from falling and you've lost your sunglasses. It's very
simple."
"Simple," she chuckled. "I think not." Turning to
the vendor, she asked. "What's the total?"
"Thirty-five, seventy-nine," he replied.
Stevie couldn't help it, she gasped. Michael ignored her surprise and
pulled out his wallet. Opening the warm leather, he handed over the several big
bills.
"Your change," the vender called pressing a few dollars and
some coins back into his hand. Turning to face her, Michael took the cap and
placed it on her head. "There now, no sunburn."
His hands brushed her hair and
it was as soft as he'd imagined. The silken curls rippled through his fingers,
and he gazed down into her doe-like eyes looking back at him. "See,"
his voice lowered to a whisper, "that didn't hurt at all."
"Not at all," she repeated, breathless.
They stood and stared at one another. Finally, Stevie broke the spell.
"I guess I should find my seat."
"Oh, yes, your seat." Michael nodded. "What section?"
"Um, some tower or something, section V, seat 33."
"Well, let's see that ticket stub." With a firm grasp on her
elbow, Michael led her toward the elevators as she searched for her stub in the
contents of her bag.
"Here," she replied, handing it over.
Michael glanced at the inscription. "Lockhart Tower, and good
seats."
"Oh, I had hoped they would be." Stevie nodded.
Michael pushed the button of the elevator that would take them up to
the second level and they stepped inside. When the doors closed, he studied her
as she crossed her arms over her chest. The elevator rose and he detected a few
fine lines about her eyes. She wasn't as young as he'd previously thought.
Still, she was quite good looking.
If he ventured a guess, he'd say she stood about five foot five, her
shape the classical hour glass. She didn't have an ounce of unneeded weight,
yet she wasn't rail thin. She was a woman. A woman, he discovered, that made
his libido hum.
Look for Those Summer Nights at: Amazon and Smashwords. It will be coming soon
to Barnes and Noble Nook and in print via Create Space.
Happy Reading,
Nan
Those Summer Nights
By the way, here's the cover.
Don't you think the young lady resembles a famous singer? Let me know who you think it might be. Perhaps someone will win an ARC of this great anthology.