Ripped From the Pages... #MuseMonday #Inspiration #wrpbks

 MUSE MONDAY

When I don't have a guest on Muse Monday, I'll share excerpts with photos that inspired scenes from my books. The scenes are most likely never before shared excerpts. 

One afternoon, hanging with my sister, she complained about her last disappointing date. She was divorced, and sick of dating and being single. I always told her, jokingly, “you've had more men in your life than any one woman deserves, so buck up.” I suggested her dating life would make great fodder for a short story. I sat at my computer and told her to recite a characterization of every man she'd dated, starting with the ill-fated relationship with the G.I. in Germany who took her on a date to the Black Forest and didn't get past the first tree, so to speak. I titled the working file "Of Men and Bullshit." 

Over the next few weeks, the story grew. I had so much fun telling the tale of a fifty-year-old woman who’d not found Mr. Right or a career. I added a few fictional escapades, but the men who appear in the book are real enough. And by the way, I couldn’t fit in all of them. Sleeping with the Lights On ended up becoming the first full-length novel I published. 

Ripped from the pages... of Sleeping with the Lights On

A secret admirer, a redheaded stalker, and an eccentric millionaire have thrown Sandra Holiday on a dangerous path. 

Excerpt:

“Carson, have you ever considered dating?” I couldn’t get over the six marriages.

“Dating? You mean instead of marrying.” He shrugged. “I’ve been rethinking it…since Melanie, who next to you was the best marriage I’ve had, and even then she didn’t compare with you. You’ll always be the best. Special.”

He melted me with his choice of words. I couldn’t speak. Carson told me I had been one of those really good things about his life. The adage came to mind—you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.           

“Man, tonight is good chili weather.” He stretched his arms in appreciation of a nice spring

A Minneapolis lake

Minnesota evening. The phrase rang pure Texan. I guess you can’t take Texas out of the Texan no matter how long it’s been. “Let’s do this again tomorrow night, Sandra.”

“I can’t. I have plans,” I said relieved. Sort of. This evening, supposedly a one-time meeting should be a brief hello. I had a life.

“The person who called you earlier?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He actually said good. Why did he find every aspect of my life so pleasing?

“Then lunch?” He took my hand. “We haven’t had nearly enough time to talk. Unless, we extend this night some more.”

“I don’t think that would be such a good idea.” Actually, it would be a great idea for all the wrong reasons. “I have to get up early for work.” I needed to call Wesley and put Carson out of my mind. Carson Holiday needed to slip back into my past.

“Then I’ll take you to lunch.” He nudged me with his shoulder affectionately.

“When do you go back to Vegas?”

He hesitated. “In a day or two.”

“You sound rather vague.” And still allusive. What could be the big secret about this charity gig he couldn’t divulge?

“I have a few more things to find out. I’ll be out of here as soon as I get all my questions answered. It’s complicated.”

“Carson, honestly, how complicated can a gig—”

He pulled on my hand, bringing me around to face him. We’d reached the edge of my apartment complex. My head said turn and run, but my legs wouldn’t respond, mushy from wine or too much Carson and moonlight. I couldn’t be sure which.

“Have lunch with me tomorrow, darlin’.” He peered into my eyes, not smiling. His hand let go of mine, and his fingers gingerly brushed along my forearm while I couldn’t break the connection of his gaze. “Another hour of your time with a long-lost friend?”

Minneapolis winter

“Yes.” My voice went all husky and come-hither. I wanted to kick myself for being so easy.

“Good. What’s the address of your office?” He took my hand again, leading me toward the door of the building. I struggled to shake off the moon shadows and to remember where I worked. Once inside the building, I took a scrap of paper from my purse and wrote the address.

“And now I’ll walk you to your door and say goodnight,” he said tucking the scrap of paper in his pocket. “Unless you want to have me in for a goodnight drink.”

I didn’t answer. If he’d known my uncertainty about my renewed attraction to him, a little persistence might have made me cave.

“Okay, then—” His mouth gaped.

I followed his bewildered look to my apartment door the scrawl of lipstick.

TRAMP

We both stared at an ordinary piece of white typing paper, taped to my door, with no marks other than the one word. He gave me one of those arched-eyebrow-quizzical looks, but I couldn’t find my voice. We glanced back at the paper like maybe we missed something. The black, block letters couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than what they said. And I knew whose artful hand had branded me.

“What have you been up to since we last saw each other, darlin’?”

 BUY LINKS

AMAZON PRINT AND EBOOK 

KOBO EBOOK 

BARNES AND NOBLE PRINT OR EBOOK 

GOOGLE PLAY EBOOK 

ITUNES EBOOK 

AUDIO

APPLE 

AUDIBLE

 

 

Communes and Chickens by Margaret Ann Spence #inspiration #MuseMonday

 MUSE MONDAY

Please help me welcome Margaret Ann Spence. This post has a couple of my favorites mentioned...chickens and communes. Yum on chickens, and communal living has fascinated me for decades. You'll enjoy the guest post today!

As I walk around my suburban neighborhood these mornings, I hear the cluck of chickens. 

Brrtuttututt, brrtuttuttut, they warble, the first syllable on a higher note than the second two. 

It’s a sound that makes me happy, because I grew up with chickens. They lived in a large caged area in our back yard, a wired enclosure with a latched gate and a roosting house .Never have I seen again such golden yolks as those from our eggs, for our chickens were well nourished and had plenty of room to strut about. 

Years later I lived in the bucolic town of Lincoln, Massachusetts, where chickens and all manner of livestock thrive in backyards and small farms. The photo is of the free-range chickens at Codman Farm, the town’s community farm. 

The commune members in my new novel, Joyous Lies, keep chickens. These fictional chickens, like our flock, had individual personalities and were named. 

Yet the life of a chicken comes to an end, as do we all. I learned not to be sentimental about this when my father selected an aging hen for our dinner. He’d lay the chicken on his chopping block made from the cut-down trunk of a tree, and axe its head off.  I don’t know why the chicken lay there passively in this uncomfortable position. I guess Dad must have twisted its neck mercifully before decapitating it. Later, I “helped” my grandmother when she plucked and gutted the bird. 

Life with livestock and birds can be messy.  Looking back, it seems to me that we then had  more respect for the creature and for the work involved in feeding ourselves than when we scan rows of plastic-wrapped pieces of flesh in the supermarket. Our squeamish denial allows us to buy breasts in one packet, legs in another so we don’t have to recognize that these birds once had individual lives. Whether we view animals and birds, plants and trees as equal partners in the balance of life, or whether we see them solely in terms of how they can benefit us is one of the questions at the heart of Joyous Lies. 

Thank you, Brenda, for this opportunity to tell readers about one of my inspirations for Joyous Lies!

Readers, if you liked the book, it would be truly wonderful if you could post a review!

Blurb

If plants can protect their young, why can’t humans do the same? 

Maelle Woolley, a shy botanist, prefers plants to people. They don't suddenly disappear. Raised on her grandparents' commune after her mother's mysterious death, she follows the commune's utopian beliefs of love for all. Then she falls for attractive psychiatrist Zachary Kane. When Zachary claims her mother and his father never emerged alive from his father's medical research lab, Maelle investigates. What she discovers will challenge everything she believes, force her to find strength she never knew she had, and confront the commune's secrets and lies. What happened to love? And can it survive? 

Excerpt

All those years of seeking peace from the commune by walking into the forest and lying on the ground, feeling the earth underneath her, cool, prickly with twigs, alive. She’d lie there and just listen. The forest was blessedly free from the din of humans, the only sounds birdsong and the rustle of small animals. And after a while the forest itself spoke, full of noises. A regular cacophony of crashes and bangs, squeaks and murmurs. Not just the soughing of the trees in wind, but creakings and tearings. Trees were not passive at all. 

How to Buy Joyous Lies: 

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2OnCNLf              

 Barnes&Noble: http://bit.ly/2LxQ0jr                       

 Itunes: http://apple.co/2YZpmmI       

The Book Depository: http://bit.ly/2OmhwRZ                     

 

Wicked Inspiration Ripped from the Pages by Connie Cockrell

WICKED WEDNESDAY

Authors are always on the lookout for story ideas. Our books might be fiction, but they are usually pulled from the pages of real life. And we all know how wicked real life can be. Connie has great insight for you on just such a story. Take it away, Connie:

I sometimes write cozy mysteries so I’m always alert for strange events in the paper, the tv news, and so on, that I can use in my stories. A few years back, our local paper ran a news article that the police had found a car, overturned in a ditch just inside the town boundary. There was no driver around. The underside of the car had an unexploded IED attached to it. That certainly piqued my interest. There were so many questions! Who was the driver and where did he or she go? Who put an IED on the car and why? How did the car crash? Why didn’t the IED go off? None of my questions were answered in the article.

I tucked the idea in the back of my mind and went on about my business. Then months later, I was writing my second book in the JeanHays cozy mystery series, Mystery in the Woods, and the IED came back to mind when I needed to put my poor character into some danger. So I had Jean drive her car into a drainage ditch, (she was under attack at the time) and the police found an IED under her car.

Here’s a snippet.

"It's a bomb, Chief." The Explosive Ordinance Officer, dressed in full gear, held his helmet under his arm.

"Details?" Nick was pissed. In all the history of Greyson, no one had ever bombed anything. Now there was one attached to the bottom of a friend's car.

The EOO pulled off his bulky gloves. "It’s an IED. I saw plenty of them in Afghanistan. An explosive type as opposed to chemical or biological or some other type. This one had a cell phone trigger—safer for the bomber, as they can be anywhere when they call from the trigger device."

Nick took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. "Damn. Why didn't it go off?"

The EOO shrugged. "The wire leading from the detonator to the charge was disconnected. Not sure if that was an error on the bomber's part or it came undone when the car flipped."

"Oh, for the love of God." Nick put his hat back on. "Anyway to figure out who did this?"

"Not really. I can make an IED pretty quick and from random parts. If we get lucky and the bomber was stupid, he left prints. I can try and track the explosive. It’s C4, so there's a taggant, generally chemical, that will let us know the origin of the stuff. But I can't guarantee that will be helpful. A lot of C4 is stolen every year. Just because we know where it was made won't really tell us where it's been since manufacture."

"That sucks."

"Yep." The EOO began to unbutton the protective suit jacket. Even with the cooler temperatures of October, his hair was plastered to his head. "I'll run the IED though the database. We may get lucky and have a serial bomber whose stuff has been documented. A pattern would be helpful to track him down."

"You keep saying he. Why is that?"

"Bombers tend to be men. There are a handful of women bombers but it's mostly men."

Nick nodded. "Thanks. Let me know, will ya?"

The EOO nodded and trudged back to his van.

Wicked, right? Have you ever read something in your local paper about something weird? I’ll bet you have. Feel free to share in the comments. 

Bio

A 20-year Air Force career, time as a manager at a computer operations company, wife, mother, sister and volunteer, provides a rich background for Connie Cockrell’s storytelling.

Cockrell grew up in upstate NY, just outside of Gloversville, NY before she joined the military at age 18. Having lived in Europe, Great Britain, and several places around the United States, she now lives in Payson, AZ with her husband: hiking, gardening, and playing bunko. She writes about whatever comes into her head so her books could be in any genre. She's published twenty books so far, has been included in five different anthologies and been published on EveryDayStories.com and FrontierTales.com. Connie's always on the lookout for a good story idea. Beware, you may be the next one. 

Mystery in the Woods Blurb

Welcome to Greyson AZ. Population: dropping fast. 

Once again uncovering secrets both old and new, Jean soon finds herself in a race against time—they planted what in her car?—to figure out who the mastermind is behind some dark and grimy things going on in the town. It’s a race she can’t afford to lose, but will she be able to figure out the answer before she goes one step too far? 

Links

https://conniesrandomthoughts.com/my-books-and-other-published-work/

https://www.facebook.com/ConniesRandomThoughts

https://amazon.com/author/conniecockrell

https://www.bookbub.com/profile/connie-cockrell

 

Dear Diary, Episode Four #diary #TeenLife #Arizona

This is actually the last of this series. After consideration for my current schedule (I'm writing three books and editing three books for other authors), I have decided to suspend this experiment for now. 

Dear Diary is a serialized account of one girl's teen years in the 1960s. Although based on my own diaries, the story is fiction. The angst, family drama, and joy are real enough for teenagers in any era. This is an experiment for me. I'm sharing with you the rough, first draft, the skeleton, of what could become a novel. If you  missed any episodes, go to the Index in the right column and click on “Dear Diary” for past posts.

****

On the following pages is my life from January 1 through December 31, 1964. Freshman and Sophomore years at Columbus High School. Go Stallions! My best friend in grade school, Janice Schmidt, gave me this diary for 8th grade graduation. I’m fourteen, 5’5”, blonde (made blonder by Gentle and Blonde), and I weight 124. I live with my mother, father, sister (Sandy age 11), and my brother (Davie age 2). 

DON'T YOU DARE! IF YOU'RE READING THIS, BE SMART AND PUT IT BACK WHERE YOU FOUND IT!!! THIS IS THE PRIVATE PROPERTY OF JANELLE JOSIE WINSTON.

January 21, 1964 Tuesday

Dear Diary,

Today was a pretty good day. Pep Club meeting after school was fun. Not really anyone I hang with in the club, but they’re all cool with coming up with ways to keep kids involved in school activities. I’m going to have to quit eating lunch and save the money so I can buy some red shoes for Donna’s Valentine’s Party. I should be able to save enough by then.

Mel called tonight. He tested me to see if I remember the date we met. Of course I did. He’s been keeping count of the days too. He has three dates on his calendar. One is my birthday and another is the day we met. He won’t tell me what the third date is, but it has something to do with me! I’ve been trying to figure it out. Is he going to ask me to go steady? I don’t know what else it could be.

Parents are getting so tight on the length of my phone calls. I wonder why? Ha!

January 22, 1964, Wednesday

Dear Diary,

Today was great except for one thing. Mum forgot to pay the phone bill, and now we’re without until Friday. How does that happen? She’s a housewife whose job is taking care of the house. I didn’t say anything. How can I? Daddy didn’t seem the least bit upset. Screwy.

It rained today. Rain is beautiful, or rather the rain brings out the beauty around me. When the trees are washed clean, they literally sparkle against the gray clouds. And everything smells so great. Daddy says what I’m smelling are thankful desert plants. He says the mesquite bushes and palo verdes trees give off that fantastic odor when they’re wet. That’s all great, except for my hair. When it rains my hair goes flat and straight.

I’m sure I did great on my English test. Luckily, the Algebra test was postponed. I can always use more studying time for the hated Algebra.

Corrine told me Mel is going to ask me to go steady. He’s also going to have my own phone installed in my bedroom. I can’t possibly accept that. That’s like so big, I can’t even get my mind around it. Of course, he can’t call me tonight, so I can’t tell him that. I sure hope he comes by the school when we let out tomorrow. Unknown to Mum and Dad of course.

January 23, 1964, Thursday

Dear Diary,

Corrine told me Mel worked last night and tonight. I’m missing him something awful. I’ve thought this through, examined my conscience, and if Mel comes by to get me after school tomorrow, I want him to bring me all the way home. My parents don’t know he’s picked me up from school and taken me to Donna’s. I might as well see what happens if I have him bring me all the way home. If they found out about the other times, ou wee! And I’d feel so awful. Like I’m sneaking. So before they find out, I’ll have him bring me home and confront the issue in the present tense.

January 24, 1964 Friday

I love Fridays. What kid doesn’t? I have next to no homework so that’s cool. Mel didn’t come after school. At least I got to talk to him on the phone at Donna’s. Our phone is still dead. It’s odd. I asked Mom about it again, but she said she wasn’t sure why not. Anyway, Mel had to overhaul an engine at some airport. Donna and I went to the game and dance. We won! Go Stallions! 5^th straight win. The dance wasn’t much fun. Guess I miss Mel. I’m getting to know George Barnley better. He kept making funny faces at me. He’s a real nut. I met Jake Klerk, Vice President and a junior, at school today. We talked a while at the dance. He’s a kook too. Gary Sanders brought a girl from another school to the dance. I wonder how long this one will last? That’s all I can write.  Yawn. I miss Mel.

January 25, 1964 Saturday

This afternoon, I went to Sharon Pritchard’s, and we got five of the eight count beats for the Pom Pon dance we are supposed to make up for P.E. We’re doing it in pairs. Sharon and I are talking about trying out. Kind of scary, but I really think I want to be a Pom Pon girl.

Donna spent the night with me tonight. We studied some. She thinks my dad is cute which kind of creeps me out a little.

January 26, 1964 Sunday

Dear Diary,

Fun day. Donna, Evan, Mel, and I rented bicycles built for two. We must have covered 15 to 50 miles!! I’ve got cuts on my legs. My butt is sore. I can’t imagine what I will feel like tomorrow.

This evening, I had another discussion with my parents about dating. I started crying. Guilt flooded me. My heart pounded. My scalp felt like it was rippling with goosebumps. I told them about Mel driving me to Donna’s sometimes after school. All of my angst was for nothing. Well, maybe not nothing. They said I need to be more honest with them, but I was excused. What a relief. Incidentally, my parents are really sweet. I love them both so much. I love my whole family. Sandy and Davie are the best sister and brother ever. Love them!  

 

 “Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.”

Escape to a Beautiful Location #KU #staycation #reading

MUSE MONDAY

We're all going crazy in one way or another over this year. Yes, it's been a year since we've closed ourselves off. Things are getting better, but who can't use an immediate escape? 

Reading is a great way to explore, even in the best of times. You can vicariously enjoy locations that can't even make it to your bucket list! 

So grab that drink or cup of whatever, open a book, and take off to another world. Here are a bunch of books that promise you a great escape...

Click here and enjoy the trip! Your Destination for Fun

The walls are closing in! It's time for a #Getaway . All of these books have something in common...a destination you can get lost in and take a virtual vacation. #staycation #Reading Click Yourself a Vacation

Reading and #Reviews (Neal, O'Reilly and Dugard)

I'm a writer, but I'm also a reader. Each month, I'll share with you reviews of present and past reads. My available time to read is limited because I write, but I love to curl up with a paperback or an eBook at night for the last hour of my day.

I tend to read what I write, but not exclusively. Besides Romantic Suspense, I read crime and law novels, once in a while a true story, WWII historicals, mysteries, and main stream character driven books.

Here are some of the books I've read recently or in the not too distant past. Maybe you'll discover a new book or author! 

Dark Lava by Toby Neal

I have mixed feelings on this book. I love Hawaii so the setting was attractive, and I actually recognized some of the scenes. There is a dynamic between the husband and wife that is odd. I have a feeling if I’d read prior books, I might understand that better. There are actually two crimes happening at the same time. Someone is stealing artifacts by carving them out of the stone. Hit me as odd and the chances for destroying risky. Then there is murder, and it looks like the main character, Detective Lei Texeira, is in deep danger as is her husband. It was fun, but didn’t grab me every time I opened it.

Blurb:

Paradise is threatened by a fight for sacred artifacts.

She just wants to disarm the IED.

Newly assigned to the bomb squad, Detective Lei Texeira struggles with skills that may be dangerously out of reach, even as a heinous crime strikes close to home and catches her husband in the crossfire.

The woman is his. And if he can’t have her, she’ll have to die.

An investigation into heiau desecrations must take a back seat to the emergence of an enemy who leaves shrouds as a calling card, targeting those closest to Lei and Stevens.

AMAZON BUY LINK

 

Killing Lincoln by Bill O’Reilly and Martin Dugard

I read this several years ago. I've been so busy lately, my reading time is limited. Thought I'd pull one out of the archives. I learned some history I’m not sure we were taught in school. But then I didn’t like history in school. I found this book interesting because I do like history now. I doubt we learned so much about Booth in school, so be prepared for fun there. Unfortunately, the writing skills of the authors are lacking. It reads a little rough with technical mistakes and just not smoothly written. If you can get past that, the facts might grab you.

Blurb:

In the spring of 1865, the bloody saga of America's Civil War finally comes to an end after a series of increasingly harrowing battles. President Abraham Lincoln's generous terms for Robert E. Lee's surrender are devised to fulfill Lincoln's dream of healing a divided nation, with the former Confederates allowed to reintegrate into American society. But one man and his band of murderous accomplices, perhaps reaching into the highest ranks of the U.S. government, are not appeased.

In the midst of the patriotic celebrations in Washington D.C., John Wilkes Booth—charismatic ladies' man and impenitent racist—murders Abraham Lincoln at Ford's Theatre. A furious manhunt ensues and Booth immediately becomes the country's most wanted fugitive. Lafayette C. Baker, a smart but shifty New York detective and former Union spy, unravels the string of clues leading to Booth, while federal forces track his accomplices. The thrilling chase ends in a fiery shootout and a series of court-ordered executions—including that of the first woman ever executed by the U.S. government, Mary Surratt. Featuring some of history's most remarkable figures, vivid detail, and page-turning action, Killing Lincoln is history that reads like a thriller.

AMAZON BUY LINK

Dear Diary, Episode Three #diary #TeenLife #Arizona

Dear Diary is a serialized account of one girl's teen years in the 1960s. Although based on my own diaries, the story is fiction. The angst, family drama, and joy are real enough for teenagers in any era. This is an experiment for me. I'm sharing with you the rough, first draft, the skeleton, of what could become a novel. If you  missed any episodes, go to the Index in the right column and click on “Dear Diary” for past posts.

****

On the following pages is my life from January 1 through December 31, 1964. Freshman and Sophomore years at Columbus High School. Go Stallions! My best friend in grade school, Janice Schmidt, gave me this diary for 8th grade graduation. I’m fourteen, 5’5”, blonde (made blonder by Gentle and Blonde), and I weight 124. I live with my mother, father, sister (Sandy age 11), and my brother (Davie age 2). 

DON'T YOU DARE! IF YOU'RE READING THIS, BE SMART AND PUT IT BACK WHERE YOU FOUND IT!!! THIS IS THE PRIVATE PROPERTY OF JANELLE JOSIE WINSTON.

January 15, 1964 Wednesday

Dear Diary, I didn’t feel too good today so I stayed home. Talked to Donna on the phone, and she stayed home too. I think I stayed up too late last night. Yeah, I know, I shouldn’t have talked so late to Mel on the phone, but how could I not? Then I had a short homework assignment after we hung up. Yawn, yawn. My head hurts. I didn’t have any meetings after school or any tests, so it’s no big deal if I missed today. Davie came into my room twice, once to bring me a cookie and once to see if I’d play cars with him. I brought him up on my bed, and we made roads with the sheet wrinkles and mountains with the pillows. Oh to be a toddler and so easily entertained. Mum did some cleaning and watched a soap at lunchtime. I think I’d be phenomenally bored as a housewife. Don’t tell her I said that. Mel called this afternoon to tell me he was coming over. Evan was going to drop him off and then go to Donna’s. But Donna’s mom said he couldn’t come over to see her because she stayed home from school. Sure glad Mum isn’t that strict. So, they both came over here. Mel brought my microphone, all fixed. He asked if I could go to the hayride on the 25^th. Mum said yes! I think she likes Mel. Friday we’re going to our game (go Stallions) and the dance. He’s so terribly sweet. I adore him. 

January 16, 1964 Thursday

Dear Diary, I’m just a rotten daughter today. My conscience is pricking me with needles, I swear. I had to go to Corrine’s after school to use her English book and study French. I left my book in my gym locker and couldn’t get back in to get it. Studying French with a partner is better anyway. Mel drove by while we were walking so he took us to her house. Mum told me there were to be no boys at Corrine’s. I was there for studying only. I couldn’t just tell Mel to get out of Corrine’s house. I feel so crappy for lying. It’s the first and last time for me. Not that anything happened, but Mum is afraid I won’t get my studying done. But we did. Lots. He was still there when Mum picked me up so he ducked into the back room. I outright lied. I lied! Mel called me around 8:00. Watched “Bewitched” on TV tonight. I wish I could wiggle my nose and fix a few things. I love my parents, dearly! 

January 17, 1964, Friday

School’s out for two days! Wow! Weekend, Dear Diary. We played Prescott tonight. J. V. lost, but Varsity won 65 to 60. Donna poked me when Larry L. ran onto the field. I don’t care about him anymore. Mel was sitting on the other side of me so, I just gave her a wide-eyed forget about it stare. I didn’t need Mel knowing my once upon a time crush was on the field. We (Mel, me, Evan, Donna, Janice Schmidt, and Corrine) went to the dance after the game. The dance wasn’t so hot, but at least I got to show off Mel to a few people. Mmmm is all I can say. How can I explain how he turns me on? When his blue eyes give me that look…like he can see right inside of me, I melt. His black, black hair does this little curl thing on his forehead. His smile is crooked, and oh my god it’s so cute that it’s all I can do to not attack him. I get quivers that start in my chest and work their way all the way to you know where. Too boss!! Gary Sanders was there and not with Darlene. Just another fling for him I suppose. Did I tell you he’s a sophomore and Darlene is a frosh? Anyway, I guess he’s moved on again. I heard him say, “Like her? Of course not.” Or something like that. Guess he never did. I wonder if his younger brother, Jim, is as much of a playboy as Gary. They seem totally dif. Gary has straight brown hair and a bigger build, but not muscular. Jim has the cutest curly hair, kind of tipped in blond. He’s more athletic looking like a runner or something. They’re both cute. Fun night!

January 18, 1964 Saturday

I’m on the verge of tears, Diary. Mel called a little while ago. He was coming over, but Mum and Dad are going out. What makes me want to cry is he said, “I sure wish you could date.” All I could do was agree. He said he was going on to a party in Cave Creek. We were both invited, and he originally turned down the invite because I couldn’t go. Now, I guess he’s going without me. I lay on my bed listening to the radio after we hung up. Bobby Vinton came on singing “There I’ve Said it Again.” I wish I’d said it to him. If it’s the last wish I get, I want to go on my first real date on my 15^th birthday and with Mel. Oh, Mel! Please don’t meet someone new at the party!!! Please, please, PLEASE! Tonight, I’ve known him two weeks. 

January 19, 1964 Sunday

Forgot to mention last night that Donna spent the night with me. Today has been the most fun ever. Mel told me he had an awful time at the party last night, and that made me so happy. Mel, Donna, Evan, Corrine, and I went to the school and played baseball and goofed around. The sun shone on us, and the air was there just for us to breathe. Do you know how it feels to be so in charge of life? To laugh and touch and know you’re so alive? On top of that… I. Love. Mel. He’s such a nut, and a lot of fun to fight with. Play fight. Donna and I had a knockdown, drag out fight too. But just for fun like Mel and me. We ended up at Donna’s. Her mom cooked us hamburgers which was really nice. Her mom is kind of different. But down deep she’s nice. Donna told me her older sister got pregnant a few years ago. Her younger brother is really her nephew. Her mom and dad have raised him like he’s theirs. I can’t imagine. I’ve seen her sister once. She isn’t around much. When the guys left, Donna and Evan were locked in a kiss like you wouldn’t believe, and her mom walked in. Not much conversation after that! 

January 20, 1964 Monday

Dear Diary, Mondays are like eating too many potato chips. They’re so good, but half way through the bag, they make you sick. I should be happy, but I feel melancholy. Last night, on the phone with Mel, he asked me to tell him whether I liked him or not. I couldn’t bring myself to say it, so I joked around about it which resulted in making the conversation difficult. He got rather angry. Tonight when he called, he asked me again. I finally said, “okay, I like you.” He’s told me twice how much he likes me. Then the conversation took a weird turn. He told me about Joyce. He loved Joyce. They were together for over a year. I think I’m going to cry. He said he’ll never feel for anyone like he did her. I love him. No matter what happens, I always will. I’m crying. I better go wash my face and go to bed.

“Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.”