Chapter 1, of "One Wish"...

Prologue

"You know what? I have had it. I've had it with this life, this world, with everything. " She mumbled to herself, as she stormed into the one-third living room, one-third kitchen and one-third dining area of her pocket-sized trash heap of an apartment.

With a huff of indignation, she threw her purse on the old second hand split pea green couch an old friend had found at a yard sale for her. In less than five seconds, she walked from one end of her apartment to the other, while her hair swung around her face in an angry black mass.

She huffed and puffed some more, before throwing herself face down on her tiny twin sized bed, fully dressed. "Ah... What a day!" A harsh groan sank into her pale pink silk pillow, from pent-up emotions and a huge measure of too many frustrations. After a minute of self-pity, she climbed out of bed and changed out of her ugly tan polyester work dress into a comfortable pair of black stretchy denim jeans, with her favorite cotton t-shirt, which had been her favorite for years. The shirt was an old, slightly faded Ozzy Osbourne concert tee. It was black, white and proclaimed 'We sold our soul for Rock & Roll'.

The relief she felt when the offending dress had been cast aside was tremendous. The dress was tight and represented a job she hated. Against her own wishes, she worked as a junior secretary in one of the hundreds of unimportant business in computer sales.

Her boss was a sexist pig and made all the girls wear these horrible dresses to keep them in line or so he said. The dresses were too tight, to short and ugly as old dried up hay. Her boss thought they were tasteful and kept his male customers coming back for more.

With more than a small collection of aggression she pulled on a pair of black lace up combat boots, that her friends always said were only good for one thing, if she were to use them to stomp poop and that was if they wanted to be nice about it. Great friends, hum?

Almost sadly, she wondered through her apartment past a table with peeled plain brown paint around her TV, which had blown up last week. She grabbed her purse from beside the old faded lavender chair that looked as if it might fall apart at any moment and snagged her keys from the unsightly pink plastic key holder by the door, before she let herself out, locking the door behind her more from habit than the thought of actually owning something worth stealing.

Today had been almost the worst day of Melanie's life, hell it had been the worst couple of days. It had been bad, but she had seen worse in her young life. Monday, her boss had yelled at her for being two minutes late. Tuesday, she had left her purse at home and ran out of gas on the way home from work, forcing her to walk two miles to the nearest gas station, in high heels no less. Wednesday, nothing had wanted to go right, from spilling coffee all over her and having to have her work dress dry-cleaned, to breaking the heel off her last pair of high heels. Then last night she had the date from hell.

A guy from work, Bernie had been hounding her to go out with him for a month, so finally she broke down and said she would go. He was a sweet guy and he wasn't bad to look at. He was a great co-worker, easy to work with. Bernie even seemed rather sensitive. But then appearances can be very deceiving. Their date had been an excruciating nightmare.

Bernie picked her up at seven, opened her car door for her and acted like the perfect gentleman all through dinner. Next, they went to the movies and as soon as the lights went down, Melanie felt hands all over her. She was shocked and more than a little upset, but nicely asked Bernie to remove his hands.

Without the least bit of morality, he made it quite clear he had taken her out, bought her dinner and took her to a movie, so it was her responsibility to put out. Then to worsen the situation, he pulled the old "put out" or "get out" and she had walked home, in the pouring rain, with no cab in sight.

"Sorry good for nothing..." Melanie hissed. "Why he believed I was nothing better than a strumpet was, I'll never know. But I'm sure not making that mistake again. The nerve of that man, 'I bought you dinner, now put out.' The audacity of some people, I swear."

Then that very morning, life had taken yet another plunge on the down side. On the way to work a man had ran a red light and plowed into the side of her. Her car was totaled, the insurance company was not paying for damages, because the man's insurance had been canceled two days before and after all that, she was two hours late for work. A very nice and understanding cop dropped her off at work. It was getting close to lunchtime and she was sure her boss would be in a bad mood again. Shaking with tension and nerves already way to jittery, she rushed in to explain what had happened that morning to him.

Being the oh so wonderful man she knew he was, he listened patiently and nodded a few times before saying. "Women drivers. Baby, you should have been watching what you were doing, then the accident would never have happened and you wouldn't have been late for work."

Melanie had held her breath, trying her best to hold back her temper. Then the incredible man had dropped the bomb. The bottom line was that she was late and he believed it was her fault, so she was fired.

"Women drivers my butt." Melanie mumbled, as she stumbled down the street toward the near by bar and grill, now car-less and in need of a strong drink, she caught quite a few strange looks from people on the street around her.

Huffing, puffing and cursing quite a bit under her breath she walked down the street, until she reached the corner and had to stop for the red light at the crosswalk. Traffic didn't seem as bad as it usually was on a Friday night, but she waited patiently anyway. With endless time to spare, now that she had no job to go along with her already developed no life, she glanced up and smiled at the sky. For once she could see all the stars shinning down on her brightly, which was a rarity in the city. A grin slid across her face as she spotted the North Star and for one moment pretended she was a child again and made a wish.

"I wish I could meet a man like the ones I have read about in books, a true southern gentleman, a Lord or a Duke." She laughed, then mumbled, "Maybe a sexy pirate."

Despite the odds and bad luck she just wanted to meet a decent guy, who was sweet and sensitive, yet who was wild and daring. All she wanted was to be able to look at a man who wasn't sex starved and half-crazed. Knowing there sure weren't any men left in the world like that, she shook her head. All the good men must have died along with the pirate era. But wouldn't it be great to actually meet a man like that.

As her mind kept wondering around that, she stepped into the street thinking plenty of time had went by, so the light must have changed by then. Melanie heard someone yell her name and she turned to look and saw the headlights bearing down on her. There wasn't time to think, to act or to even move, so she just closed her eyes.

All she could see was a bright blinding white light, and> then there was nothing.

Chapter One

Melanie regained conciseness to the sound of birds lovingly chirping away and the crisp leaves rustling above her head. With a groan she opened her eyes and looked around, to find herself in a small barren dirt field. Huge green trees surrounded the field. It was no longer night, but day and if the height of the sun meant anything, it was probably around midday.

Melanie heaved herself to her feet and wiped dirt off her back, then picked leaves out of her hair. Checking carefully with a steady gaze down at herself, she couldn't find a scratch or bruise on her body. Cautiously she wondered through the palace of trees and found what appeared to be a deserted dirt road. There wasn't much of a choice, just north or south, so she picked a direction and started trudging on. What ever had happened to her she knew she wasn't in the city any more and saying she was in the country was a major understatement. It was more like she was in the back of beyond.

The only thing she remembered was leaving her apartment, then stopping at the crosswalk and making her silly little wish. After that, everything was a blur. There was no use worrying over it now though, so she kept walking.

On either side of the road were woods, which just gave the impression the forest was getting thicker the longer she walked. She marched on for hours, with the sun beating down on her mercilessly. She was hot, tired and worried. She hadn't seen another living soul since she had woken alone and it was starting to upset her badly. Usually she was a loner, but at the moment seeing another person wouldn't hurt.

Feeling like you were the last person on Earth had a way of doing that to a person. After what felt like an eternity, Melanie heard something coming down the road behind her. Her heart gave a little leap of joy and she turned around, with a huge smile plastered on her face. Her mouth fell open in utter amazement at what she saw before her.

Coming toward her was an old-fashioned horse drawn carriage and a full one at that, with a closed in box for the actual carriage. It was black and red, with gold fixtures and was drawn by four matching black Arabian horses, which were absolutely breathtaking.

Melanie waved franticly trying to get the black driver's attention. The older gentleman flew closer and closer, but didn't seem to pay her the least bit of attention. Not only did it look as if he was of a mind to not stop, but he seemed to gain speed by the second. Leaning toward urgency rather more than good sense, she stood in the middle of the road and waved as they came even closer toward her position.

The driver began to yell at the top of his lungs and pumped his fists in the air. "Move woman, get out of the road or I'm gonna run ya down. I can't be stoppin now. There some folks ah chasin us."

Melanie leaped out of the road to plop on her butt in a batch of dusty weeds at the side. A woman's blond, golden head popped out of the little square window and she mouthed the words, "I'm sorry," silently as the carriage flew by.

The carriage was quickly out of sight, yet Melanie continued to stare in the direction motionless, where it had disappeared. She sighed in aspiration, knowing her only form of help had refused to even stop. A loud groan whooshed from her chest as she once again pulled herself from the ground and wiped her clothing off. Then slowly she restarted her journey in the same direction that the carriage had taken.

Yet now she was filled with hope of finding a town and real people in it. The road looked endless to Melanie and she thought of just giving up and just falling down somewhere to sleep off her misery and disappointment. Her legs ached and her stomach was growling, while at the same time she wondered when she had eaten last. On her way home from that awful job she had been fired from she had eating lunch and she hadn't found the time to eat again since then. So, how long ago was that? Maybe twenty-four hours?

Through sheer determination she forced herself to keep going, picking up one leg after the other. No matter how bad things got she wasn't a quitter and she refused to let the situation get the better of her. But wouldn't a lot of people want to give up in this situation. Not only not knowing where she was, but also having to push themselves through a walk that might be never ending.

Then she heard the unmistakable sound of approaching horses' hooves as they pounded on the hard packed dirt ground. With a wide grateful smile on her face, she turned around, then wished she hadn't of wasted her time. Two big men where riding toward her and they didn't look very friendly. She glanced at the woods behind her but knew she would never make it, so she stood her ground, looking confident, yet trembling in her combat boots.

The two men jerked their horses to a stop in front of her> and glared down at her. In an instant she easily pegged them as sailors, disgusting ones that hadn't seen neither bath nor a hairbrush in their lives. The scent of their bodies pounded down on her in nauseating waves, which sent her stomach rebelling.

They had tattoos from shoulder to ankle from what she could> tell. They looked like they had slept in their clothes for a month and they both reeked of dried up fish. One of the men smiled down at her, showing off the hole where he was missing his two front teeth, before he spit chewing tobacco on the ground a few inches from Melanie's feet. "Looky here Georgey. We done found> us a stray woman."

The man who must have been Georgey, grinned wickedly at Melanie, while looking her over provocatively, making her stomach roll even more. "This gives me the perfect idea Bo. The blond lady is probably a long way ahead of us by now. Why don't we take Cap'n this one instead?"

"Cap'n said he wanted the other one. I don't think he will like this much and I don't wanta get on the Devil Lorgan's bad side if you know what I mean."

The first man said. "If we go back empty handed he ain't goin be happy either. If we bring him her, then at least we got him a woman. One woman is as good as another." as he watched her closely and she knew if she tried to run he would be on her in a second.

"Well if Cap'n ain't happy, then I'm goin to say this was all your idea and I didn't like it none." Bo mumbled pitifully and Melanie almost felt sorry for him, except the fact remained that, they were sitting there discussing kidnapping her.

Georgey reached down and grabbed Melanie. Running on pure instinct, she kicked him and scratched her nails down his arm, making him howl in outrage. Refusing to let her win their struggle, he reached back and slapped her as hard as he could, knocking her backwards. Next, he pulled her up in front of him on his saddle and turned the horse around. Then, he tied her hands to his saddle horn and took off, with a complaining Bo right on his heels.

The half-wild horse reared up and joggled them both in the saddle, before settling back down enough for them to move. Georgey aimed them in the opposite direction, where she had been walking from all day, drawing a groan from Melanie. Between the smell of the two men, the horses and the rocking> motion as they road on, Melanie's stomach gave in and she hurled up what little bit was left in the deepest pits of her stomach.

"Dang girl, give a man some warnin. If you need to do that again, let me know and I'll stop for Christ sake." Georgey growled at her.

After and hour and a half of hard traveling, plus having to stop twice so Melanie could empty out her now hollow stomach, they arrived in a small seaside town. The smell of salt and fish combined in the air making it thick, almost choking her.

It was pitch dark by then and she was beyond exhausted. Through half opened eyes she could barely make out tiny, strange lights in passing windows. The clump, clump of the horses' hooves changed to a heaver sound as if they were walking across huge flat stones.

They stopped in front of an old brick building, that might have been grey, but with the lateness of the hour looked coal black. The building had a wooden sign over the tall front door that proclaimed itself, 'White St. Inn.'

Georgey climbed off his horse, beside his friend Bo and carried her inside the long building. Just barely through her clouded mind, Melanie heard low mumbled voices, and then felt the blissfulness of a soft bed underneath her aching body.

With an arm that felt more like lead, than flesh and bone, she reached out, with her eyes still tightly closed and simply said, "Food."

Georgey pulled her hand away and said, "Don't worry missy. I'll send a servant into feed and change ya. But don't ya go gettin no ideas; I'm goin leave one ah my men guardin ya door. So don't even think about tryin to get outta here."

A small hand on her shoulder and a tiny voice woke her some time later. "Ma'am, I've brought you some food." Melanie blinked and looked up at the very young woman standing in front of her. The girl couldn't be more than fourteen or fifteen for goodness sake. There were laws against this sort of thing. Melanie thought weakly. "Do you work here or do your parents own this place?"

As Melanie sat up, the girl handed her a tray filled with strange pasty looking food, but Melanie didn't care, she felt like she was starving. "My master and mistress own the Inn. I work for them."

Throat closed and eyes watering, Melanie chocked on a piece of hard crunchy bread. "Master? Mistress? How old are you?"

The girl rung her hands, and then lit an extra candle. "I'm fifteen Ma'am."

She smiled sweetly, "I'm a bonded servant. My father sold me, as a worker to the Inn for three years to help out our family."

Bonded servant, a slave? What in the world? Melanie thought, then seeing the candle she asked, "Power out?"

By the tiny candle's light Melanie could just catch the girl's expression as she flushed pink in confusion, "Power out, what ever do you mean?"

Melanie laid her tray on a near by table, picked up a candle of her own and started a total search of the walls for a light switch. After searching every inch of the room, she found not one anywhere and started muttering to herself further confusing the poor girl who stood by watching her.

Melanie climbed back in the small bed and took her tray from the table. Her mind wondered over all the possibilities that could explain her circumstances as she absentmindedly started back eating, while the girl walked around the room, checking everything to make sure of Melanie's comfort.

"I hear you are planning on marrying our local Captain Lorgan."

Melanie chuckled sarcastically, "Yeah that is what I keep hearing too. Oh... what is the name of this town?"

The girl handed a huge white night gown, made in a strange design, which would easily cover her from her chin to well past her toes and answered, while her hands busily moved.

"You can wear this for tonight. Captain Lorgan left word that he would send clothes for your wedding tomorrow. The name of the town is New Bedford and.... ah... If you don't mind me asking Ma'am, what is your name? No one seems to want to say."

Melanie grinned back at the shy girl and said, "I'm Melanie Wilson. What about you, what is your name?"

Once again as if it were more habit than conscious thought, the girl blushed, "I'm Lilly, Lilly Parker."

"Lilly, that is a very pretty name. So Lilly, do you mind telling me everything you know about this Captain Lorgan?"

Melanie patted the side of the bed next to her, but the other girl would not sit until Melanie pulled her down beside her. "You haven't met Captain Lorgan yet?"

Melanie shook her head and the girl nodded in understanding, "So this is an arranged marriage then. I didn't think a man like that would have to go through an arranged marriage. I'm sure tons of women throw themselves at his feet where ever he goes."

Melanie shrugged. "I have no clue. What is he like? I know he is a sea captain and some of the men that work for him could use a very good bath with lots of soap, but that is as far as my Captain Lorgan knowledge stretches."

Lilly giggled, then blushed from what little Melanie could see in the candlelight, "Some people believe that Captain Lorgan is a pirate and from what I have overheard from conversations, people call him the Devil Lorgan. I could see him being a pirate and a feared one, one that little girls would dream of growing up and marrying. He is dark and dangerous, with a temper I've heard no one wants to stoke."

"And," Melanie asked, intrigued now, "I hear an and coming Lilly."

Lilly grinned, "And he is absolutely the most beautiful man I have ever seen. He has long hair, as bright and as shinny as the sun and gorgeous blue-green eyes with gold flecks in them. He is a superb piece of male flesh."

Lilly turned bright red and looked down at her hands, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking in such a way. You must think me the worst form of life, talking about> your betrothed in such a way."

Melanie patted her arm. "No Lilly, I don't think that. In fact, you have helped me out a lot. At least I know what to expect now, that's something I guess."

Lilly stood up and made her way to the door. "I'll leave you now. You'll need your rest for your meeting with Captain Lorgan tomorrow morning."

Melanie waved to her retreating back, "Night Lilly."

"Good night Melanie,"

As she walked out of the room, probably thinking what an odd creature Melanie was.

* * * *

Across town in a small brick house, Captain Nero Lorgan sat> behind his desk in his comfy study. With fire bursting forth from his eyes he looked from Georgey to Bo, who had just arrived to tell of their success.

"You are back so you must have captured Miss Grant and dropped her at the Inn for the night as you were ordered to do."

Bo looked at Georgey pointedly and Georgey tried to explain. "Her driver was to smart and to fast. We couldn't keep up with them. So no we didn't get ahold of Miss Grant."

Nero sat up in his chair and slightly leaned over the desk to glare at the two men. "Let me get this straight, you let her driver whisk her away, without continuing the chase? Then instead you come back here empty handed?"

Georgey shifted uncomfortably in his chair and Bo shot him an evil look, making him sputter, "No Cap'n, we didn't continue the chase, but we didn't come back empty handed either."

Bo shrunk down in his chair, as the captain was sure hatred> was sure to have written across his face. "It was his fault Cap'n. He said it would be okay, but I didn't> like it none and I told him so."

Nero held up a hand to silence Bo. "What do you mean> you didn't come back empty handed?"

Georgey squeaked as Nero's hand shot out swiftly and> grabbed the front of his shirt in a tight grasp. "Well you see Cap'n, we was chasen after Miss Grant, until we almost ran over this woman in the middle of the road. I figured there won't no way we could catch Miss Grant and you said you needed a wife. Then here was this little purdy thing looking lost and frightened. I just thought one woman is as good as another."

Nero groaned and released Georgey, "Ok so where is this woman now?"

Georgey sat up in his chair, with a grin. "We done went and left her at the Inn like you told us. We got her a room and fed her."

Georgey looked down at his hands for a moment, not being able to take more of Nero's angry stare. "She looked like she could use a little meat on her bones. We told the Innkeeper everything you told us too and made sure they knew the girl was to stay put for the time being."

Nero ran a hand over his rough stubbly chin. "Ok, you two messed up quite badly. So I'll have to see what I can do. I'll go see the girl you found tomorrow and see if I can fix this mess, the two of you have gotten me into. You will both go with me to apologize to this woman, and then you see that you get out of there as soon as humanly possible. You aren't known for making mistakes Georgey, so I'll fix this one. However, there had better not, ever, be any more mistakes again. Do you both understand?"

"Yes Cap'n," They said together in respect.

"Good... Now do either of you think I can pay her off? Or is there something else you think I could do to keep her from going to the authorities, other than kill her? I really don't need murder hanging over my head as well as kidnapping."

Georgey folded a leg over his knee and tapped it thoughtfully. "Well Cap'n, them little dressy things you were gonna give Miss Grant might help. This woman was wearin some of the strangest men's britches I ever saw and this little top, which couldn't be more than a corset without strings. Even her boots looked like small men's farm boots. God awful things too."

Obviously, Georgey had never seen a t-shirt before nor was he used to seeing a woman walk around with out loads of clothes covering their bodies.

Nero nodded, "Anything else?"

Georgey looked at Bo and shrugged, before looking back to Nero. "Well Cap'n if you want my honest opinion, I think you might want to take a good look at that little bird. If I won't married, I might go chasen after her myself. She sure is somethin nice to look at."

Nero faked a smile, "I'll keep that in mind. If that is it, I'll see you 'gentlemen' in the> morning."

Moreover, he made sure his meaning was known and they couldn't mistake themselves for anything close to gentlemen.


http://www.newconceptspublishing.com/onewish.htm>

Excerpt from "One Wish," by Debra Soles

Nero stood utterly still and listened.

He could hear at least two men walking down the hall on the other side of the door. From the sound of their boots, they were probably as big as the two men he and Melanie had taken out in what had been their prison. There were two men talking back and forth between themselves, so he listened intently, hoping to overhear something that might be of an advantage to them.

“Yeah, we have the four prisoners down in the hold. We have the pirate and his bitch in the back end of the ship. His first mate and one of his cabin boys are in the front of the hold.”

They laughed together as Nero's temper flared and he would have liked to punch both of their lights out, but he refrained and listened.

“It sure will be funny when we get to Jamaica and get to watch those men hang.”

There was silence for a moment as the men moved further down the hallway, then Nero heard the second man ask, “What is the Captain planning on doing with the Devil Lorgan's wife?”

Nero held his breath for a second, but already knew what they would say.

“Oh her. Captain says she isn’t worth much to him, so he will just sell her to one of the other plantation owners. He thinks she might make someone a nice slave. She probably hasn’t worked a day in her life, but he figures that she looks good, so maybe she might make a good love slave.”

Nero was trembling now, with suppressed rage and the only thing that stopped him from jerking open the door and going after the two foul-mouthed men, was Melanie’s soft hand, which had slipped into his.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to do what I think you are going to do.”

Melanie mumbled, but already knowing the answer. “I have to. All of my crew promised to give their lives to protect yours and I’m not going to stand back and let it happen if I have any power to do something about it.”

Nero barely breathed out, hoping she would understand. With no hesitation she gave him a nod and squeezed his hand again, “Ok, I’m with you. Lead the way.”

With a grin, he jerked her against him and gave her a spontaneous kiss. “That’s my girl.”

http://www.newconceptspublishing.com/onewish.htm>

The SPOTLIGHT is on Debra Soles!

About DEBRA-

Since the age of 12 when I discovered romance novels I've been hooked. By the time I was 15 I knew I had to be a writer and share my love of Happily Ever After. Now I'm a writer of sci-fi, fantasy, paranormal and romance with an imagination outside the box. I have two Futuristic Romance (sci-fi) novels out from my Zogone series, with more to come. I also have a time-travel romance called One Wish coming out in January of 2010. If you are looking for vampires, witches, weres, aliens and new worlds with unforgettable characters my books were made for you.



Excerpt for- ONE WISH
Without a doubt she must be dreaming, this just couldn’t be real. From past experience she figured a few people would be dressed in costume like her, but the rest would be tourists dressed in shorts, sandals and tank tops. All the men were wearing funny suits like Nero. All the women were dressed just like her. Some in home spun dresses and some in silk.

The cobblestone streets she remembered from a vacation here, were covered in horses, carriages and wagons. People walked, chatted and went about their work, as if it were a perfectly normal day. Like it was actually normal to be stuffed up like turkeys and there not being one normal twenty-first century thing in sight.

There were no cell phones ringing, no beepers beeping, no laptops peeking out bags. Not even a normal pocket book or a pair of jeans in sight. There were no camcorders and happy families on vacation. No portable radios, no compact disc players. There weren’t any high heels or short mini skirts in sight. There was no blue or neon green hair spiked into the air or Mohawks.

Melanie’s hands got clammy. Her head started spinning out of control and her simple thought slipped out without her even knowing it.

“Holy crap!” Nero’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head, “What did you say?” Melanie was frantic now as she turned around and grabbed his arm, digging her nails into it.

“What is today’s date?” Confusion written on his face, he answered. “It’s June first.”

Melanie shook her head and tried to suppress the tears she could feel forming in her eyes.

“No, what year is it?” Soothingly he put an arm around her waist, “It’s 1845, Hon.”

He grabbed her quickly, before she hit the ground.

The SPOTLIGHT is on "One Wish," by Debra Soles!

With one, half-joking wish, Melanie Wilson is transported back in time to become the unwilling bride of pirate captain, Nero Lorgan.

Nero isn’t exactly thrilled to discover his men abducted the wrong woman … but Melanie intrigues him. With reluctance, she accepts his offer of marriage—in name only!—but Nero has other ideas.

Rating-

Sensual:some violence, adult language and suggestive adult scenes

ISBN 973-1-60394-369-2to find it online- http://www.newconceptspublishing.com/onewish.htm

Visit Debra on the web- http://www.newconceptspublishing.com/debraasoles.htm.
or follow her on TWITTER- http://twitter.com/debdebss

Chapter 1 of, "The Legacy," by Diane Amos

Chapter 1

June 2, 1887

You cold-hearted varmint,
Was it up to me, I wouldn't send this letter.
But your pa needs to see you one last time.
Hurry. One more thing, if you arrive before he dies, the ranch will be yours.
A.

Bitterness crept up the back of Jeremiah T. Dalton's throat as he reread the words filled with contempt. He slipped the letter back in its envelope and dabbed the perspiration from his brow with the silk handkerchief normally tucked in his suit pocket just for show.

Lowdown, Texas was hot as hell, which seemed fitting, considering he was about to meet the devil himself.

An old cowpoke, sitting in the stagecoach on the seat opposite him, gave Jeremiah a slow perusal. "You ain't from round these parts."

"No, I'm not."

"What brings you out this way?"

He noted the old geezer's grin with missing front teeth and the wide black hat that shadowed his face. Jeremiah straightened his Derby on the seat beside him and smiled politely.

"Family business."

"That so." The old man scratched his whiskered jaw, then reached out. "Buck Ridley, here."
Jeremiah shook his hand. "Jeremiah T. Dalton."

"Can tell from your accent you're from back East a ways."

Jeremiah nodded.

Buck pulled out a crushed box of Battle Ax Plug tobacco from his shirt pocket, bit off a chunk and offered Jeremiah what remained. "Do you chew?"

"No, thanks. It's not one of my vices."

Buck stuck the additional wad in his cheek and seemed content to ride in silence.

Jeremiah leaned back against the seat, closed his eyes and thought back to his childhood.

Not once had his mother uttered a kind word about the man responsible for his birth. According to her, his father was a conniving, fast-talking good-for-nothing.

One fact was indisputable; his old man had never given a damn about him.

As a boy, Jeremiah wrote countless letters that went unanswered. Finally, he gave up hope of ever seeing his father again.

As an adult, Jeremiah wanted nothing to do with his father, although he preferred the term sensible to cold-hearted as the letter had indicated.

"Wedding or funeral?"

Jeremiah glanced up. "Huh?"

"Wedding or funeral brung you here?"

"Someone's taken ill."

"Didya say Dalton ? Wouldn't happen to be related to N.H. Dalton?"

"My father," he replied, the words sticking in his throat like a sharp bone.

"Well, I'll be diggered. Didn't know N.H. had himself a son."

Realizing his father had kept his existence a secret, Jeremiah's gut coiled with anger. He was grateful when Buck turned his attention to the view from the window.

As the stagecoach rolled into town, Jeremiah studied each building and tried to recall something from his past. Ridley's Livery, a large wooden structure, stood off by itself, and though Jeremiah could imagine himself as a small boy admiring the horses, nothing about the livery looked familiar.

Several stores came next, among them Fred's Barbershop, The Dressmaker, and Bufford's Mercantile. From the opened double doors of the general store, he saw packed shelves and narrow aisles. Its overflowing merchandise spilled onto the crooked boardwalk where two men sat on a crude wooden bench, playing checkers, surrounded by shovels, brooms, baskets, and barrels.

A surprising thought surfaced. Bufford's sold the best candy for miles around. Was this a memory or merely his sweet tooth on the trail of licorice whips and lemon drops?

An hour later Jeremiah sat on a bench outside The Lowdown Federal Bank, his patience in no better shape than the white shirt plastered to his body. He'd telegraphed his time of arrival and had received a response that someone would meet his stagecoach.

The rumble of wagon wheels and an approaching dust cloud interrupted his thoughts. He stood, cupping a hand over his eyes and spotted a rickety wagon heading toward him. He was about to jump aside when the driver, a tall boy, pulled back on the brake.

"Whoa," he shouted in a high-pitched voice.

Beside him sat a little girl with probing eyes and a mean frown.

The slightly built driver hopped down from the wagon. "You Jeremiah Dalton?"

"Yes, what took you so long?"

"Had things to do."

"That's it? No explanation?"

A satisfied grin surfaced beneath the rim of the western-style hat.

Jeremiah plunked his Derby on his head. Salvaging what remained of his manners, he smiled tolerantly, grabbed his heavy bag, and gestured for the lad to take the other. Much to his amazement, the youngster climbed onto the wagon without lifting a finger.

"Young man, might I remind you that in time you'll be working for me?" He mimicked the tone his future father-in-law used effectively with the servants.

The youngster hopped down and stood inches from his chest. "I'll work for you when rattlers sprout legs!"

The raised voice was clear, defiant, and definitely not masculine. Caught off guard, he bent to look under the brim of the hat.

Cold green eyes glared back at him. He studied the heart-shaped face and the small nose splattered with rusty freckles. As he straightened, he noticed the wilted daisy sticking from the hatband.

Big mistake, he realized, feeling like a fool. What would possess a woman to wear men's trousers and a shapeless shirt?

She yanked her hat off her head and slapped it against her thigh, raising dust and setting free a riot of bright curls the color of carrots, a vegetable he detested.
* * * * *

Eyes the color of polished pewter held Abigail Wilcox captive. Her heart skipped a beat as she studied the features much like his father's. The similarities ended there, however, for N. H. Dalton was a kind and loving man.

Determined to make Jeremiah Dalton's ride to the ranch as miserable as possible, Abigail had chosen this small wagon with broken springs and a front seat barely wide enough for her and Clarissa.

Her daughter had kicked up a fuss about coming, but Abigail had insisted, which explained the child's sour mood.

Standing with her back to the wagon, Abigail gazed into the flint-gray eyes filled with disbelief. She pushed aside unruly curls that had tumbled over her forehead, and, sucking in her breath, thrust out small breasts. Why had Jeremiah Dalton's mistake hurt so much?
The tension stretched between them until Clarissa leaned over Abigail's shoulder. "Ma, how long you two gonna gawk at each other?"

Clearly uncomfortable, Jeremiah ran a finger inside the stiff collar of his stained white shirt. "I apologize for the error, Mrs. … "

Abigail straightened her shoulders. "It's Miss and don't worry none about the mistake."

Shock flickered over his features before she turned and hopped onto the wagon.

She didn't care diddly what he thought.

If only that were true.

Shame had carved a crater the size of Texas in her heart. At first she'd hidden her secret behind a cheap gold band, but word got around.

People looked down their noses at her. So instead of prolonging the inevitable, she preferred to set the record straight from the start.

Jeremiah walked to the back of the wagon, heaved his bags onto the planks, and hopped aboard. He pushed aside the hay with his shoe before sitting down. Abigail released the brake and flicked the reins. She expected him to grumble.

He dug in his pocket and produced a crumpled paper bag. "Lemon drops, anybody?"

Lemon drops were Abigail's favorite, but taking one seemed traitorous.

Clarissa had no such qualms. "Thanks," she said, grabbing two.

Abigail bit her lip and concentrated on hitting the pothole in the middle of the road.

For the next hour, Jeremiah tried unsuccessfully to cushion his rattling bones. Each time the wagon struck a hole, the loose boards beneath him separated just enough to pinch his backside.

For years he'd heard tales of his father's ranch, a sprawling twelve thousand-acre spread with a large Hacienda-style house staffed with servants.

As Jeremiah bounced along in the rickety wagon, he wondered if these reports were more of his mother's exaggerations. If this chariot was an indication of the condition of the Dalton ranch, Jeremiah would be on the next train heading East.

As he reached up and rubbed his hand along the back of his aching neck, he spotted a familiar cluster of four cacti resembling the silhouette of a cowboy with Stetson and pipe.

If he hadn't seen the large sign swaying from the top of a stone archway, he'd have voiced his suspicions; they'd been traveling in circles.

He read the words, Dalton Ranch.

The gold lettering above the carved image of a steer spoke of wealth and power. Stone walls bordered either side of the winding road that led to an adobe-colored two-story building.

From the recesses of his mind came the vision of a small boy rocking on a wooden porch swing. Before he could question his rambling thoughts, the wagon entered a courtyard, and that same porch swing appeared.

An unexpected shiver raced down his spine as Jeremiah spotted a man sitting in the shadows on an oversized rocker. He didn't realize the wagon had stopped until the young girl dashed toward the old man and kissed his cheek.

"How ya feeling, Grandpa Dalton?"

Until now, Jeremiah's memories had been dim, but those of his father were vivid.

And painful.

Jeremiah unclenched his fists and breathed in deeply. For years he'd promised himself if this day ever came, he'd greet his father with aloofness.

He unfolded his stiff frame from the wagon and reluctantly strolled toward the porch.

Jeremiah couldn't make out his father's face, but he felt his penetrating gaze.

Though he'd told himself he wouldn't so much as shake hands with this man, as he neared the porch, Noah stretched out trembling arms. This wasn't the person Jeremiah remembered, but a frail old man.

For a moment Jeremiah stood there staring down at the gnarled fingers covered with parchment-like flesh, and his resolve crumbled.

In

a moment of weakness, he clasped his father's hand.

www.dianeamos.com

Excerpt from, "The Legacy"

He seemed about to swing onto his horse when he hesitated and raised his right hand. "Wait a minute, I almost forgot." He took off at a run and disappeared behind the barn.

The nerve of him, wasting time as if she had any to spare. When he returned, she'd chew him out but good. Though Jeremiah was gone no more than a few seconds, she was in a dither by the time he showed his face, wearing an earth-shattering grin that threatened to melt Abigail's bones.

As he strode toward her, she glanced at the bluebonnets in his large hand.

Abigail shook her head in disbelief. He painted quite a picture: Derby cocked at a becoming angle, a silk vest hugging an impressive chest, stained linen trousers, mucked up alligator shoes, and wildflowers.

She was about to tell him to get a move on when he strolled over to where she stood. Reaching for her hat, he stuck the fresh blooms into her hatband.

Eighty-eight degrees outside, and Abigail's tongue froze to the top of her mouth. When she finally set it loose, it wasn't worth a damn anyway. At a loss for words, she gawked at him as if he had two heads. "Why'd you go and do that for?"

"I saw them earlier when … " He gave a sheepish smile. "When I was swigging water like there was no tomorrow. I thought they'd look perfect on your hat."

No man had ever given Abigail flowers. She felt all choked up, and if she hadn't turned away, he'd have seen the tears welling in her eyes. She blinked furiously and cleared her throat. "We better skedaddle."

As Jeremiah approached his mount, Abigail made a split-second decision. "You better check the girth strap. That piebald's been known to fill up with air when he sees a saddle."

He reached under the horse's belly and gave the leather strap a tug. "Thanks," he said with a grin that set her stomach to fluttering, making her wish he were leaving today instead of six months from now.

Abigail swung onto her horse. "You got yourself a lady back East?"

Jeremiah's face lit up like fireflies in a jar. "Yes, her name's Evelyn."

Abigail flicked the reins and studied him from the corner of her eyes. "She pretty?"

"Prettiest thing you've ever seen."

Abigail's stomach slammed into her knees. She didn't have to look twice to see he was a goner for Evelyn. She tried to ignore the rush of disappointment swamping her.

Just because he'd stuck a few weeds in her hat didn't give her the right to expect anything more. Surrounded by sophisticated ladies back East, Jeremiah would never take a second look at the likes of her. She'd be a fool to think otherwise.

As they rode together toward town, she figured she'd ask Jeremiah one more question to settle her mind. "Are you fixin' to marry Evelyn?"

"As soon as I get back to Boston ."

Gripped by the sudden desire to yank out every hair on Evelyn's head, Abigail reckoned it was time to change the subject.

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See what people are saying about, Diane Amos's "The Legacy" ...

REVIEWS FROM "THE LEGACY"...
~Publishers Weekly
All will root for the unlikely couple—and appreciate the surprise twist regarding the villain's identity.


~Marilyn Heyman/ Romance Reviews Today
THE LEGACY is a very entertaining tale that will keep readers turning the pages. Some of the situations and dialogue are comical, and the characters are very likeable. Another thing I liked about this story is the author didn’t make the other woman, Evelyn, despicable and mean. This is a western that you are sure to thoroughly enjoy.


"A delightful heroine and an eccentric cast of characters add up to a hilarious romp of a book. Diane Amos knows how to keep the laughs coming." -- Tess Gerritsen


Visit Diane on the WEB- http://www.dianeamos.com/

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The SPOTLIGHT is on Diane Amos!

The thought of writing a book never entered my mind until a friend mentioned she was writing a romance and belonged to the Maine Chapter of the Romance Writers of America.

I accompanied her to a meeting, and I was hooked. Undaunted, to me, writing a book was simply stringing together sentences to form paragraphs, arranging the paragraphs into scenes, then placing the scenes into chapters.

If I wrote enough chapters-viola, I had a book.

Little did I know!

Finally, nine books and seven years later I received "The Call" at 10:11 AM on October16th, 2002. The editor of Five Star wanted to discuss my book!

The rest is history.

I live in a small town north of Portland, Maine with my husband, Dave. We have four grown children, three grandsons and two granddaughters. I operate an art studio in my home where I teach both children and adults. Many of my adult students have taken classes from me for years and have become great friends. We have so much fun in class, at times, I wonder whether I should be paying them. I hope they don't read this bio.

I'm an established Maine artist. My paintings are in private collections across the United States. When I'm not writing or painting, I'd like to say I'm either racking up miles on my exercise bike or jogging in a marathon-sounds impressive, but don't believe it. I know that exercise is good for me, but why can't it be as much fun as it looks on the television infomercials that persuade us to buy their torturous machines?

I enjoy spending time with my family at our camp on a small Maine pond or watching television-I confess I'm a reality show addict-what better place to find characters for my books!

I've been married for over thirty-five years to my real-life hero, a man who's supported and encouraged me over the years and still puts a smile on my face.

Visit Diane on the web- http://www.dianeamos.com/

Purchase The Legacy

The SPOTLIGHT is on ...The Legacy, by Diane Amos

THE LEGACY is a historical set in 1887 and will be released mid-November.

Jeremiah Dalton arrives in Lowdown, Texas, to claim his inheritance and discovers that his father’s will has conditions attached. He has six months to learn the ranching business or lose everything—and he must rely on the help of foreman Abigail Wilcox, the most ornery woman to cross his path.

Never wed, considered a harlot by many and raising her daughter on her own, Abigail believed a slick-talking Easterner years ago, and all it got her was heartache. She has no time for Jeremiah Dalton, despite the growing attraction between them.

Meanwhile, several accidents make it clear someone at the ranch wants Jeremiah gone—either heading back East in defeat, or in a pine box.

While Jeremiah and Abigail learn to trust each other, and eventually fall in love, they must face the danger together.

Purchase "The Legacy" here- http://search.barnesandnoble.com/The-Legacy/Diane-Amos/e/9781594148156/ or here- http://www.amazon.com/Legacy-Five-Star-Expressions/dp/1594148155#productPromotions

Please visit Diane on the web- http://www.dianeamos.com/

New Release -

Once, Connor believed that his ability to see the future would grant him everything. Instead, it landed him in a prison of his own making. Summoned by the Lord of the Isles to serve as his counselor, Connor gains wealth and prestige, but with every vision, his own sight dims. Even so, Connor doesn't grasp the terrible consequences of his gift until he's wounded by a young woman who blames him for her family's massacre. Moira curses herself for failing to kill the Seer - especially when she learns her punishment is to be given to him as a slave. Far from the proud, arrogant tyrant she imagined, Connor is a tortured man with a dark sensuality that tempts her night after night. But freeing him from a strange power that is spiraling out of control will mean forsaking her vow and risking her heart for the one man she has sworn to destroy...

This title will be released on November 24, 2009.

Pre-order now! A Storm of Passion

New Release -

For all you Karen Ranney fans, her new release "Sold to a Laird" will be available on November 24, 2009.

Pre-order now!

Sold to a Laird by Karen Ranney

When Douglas Eston arrives at the home of the Duke of Herridge, he expects to leave with an investment—not a wife! With his brilliant ideas attracting attention all over London, Douglas does not need to rely on the duke. But when he meets Lady Sarah Baines, the stubborn beauty whose virtue her father would willingly sell, Douglas finds himself utterly entranced and desperate to protect her.
Lady Sarah Baines always knew her father was cruel. But this time he's gone too far. Demanding that she marry a complete stranger—even an absurdly handsome one with eyes the color of a dawn sky—is utterly ridiculous. She swears she'll never submit to the wanton delights of the marriage bed. But soon Douglas's considerable charms prove impossible to resist . . . and the decadent ecstasy he offers shows Sarah that an affair that began with business can end with the ultimate pleasure.

Excerpt from, "No Funny Stuff"

Concealing the gift under a washcloth in her hand, Daisy turned back to the room, intending to stash the present in her suitcase and preventing any questions of it tonight. When she crossed over the bathroom threshold, her foot caught on something. Daisy tumbled downward with a shriek; the gift flew from her hand.

The washcloth flung away, and she watched in slow motion the flashy, sparkly red bow flip end-over-end through the air until the rest of the room rushed upward and the carpet broke her fall.

Drew dashed to her and helped her sit up. She could see him better if those damned stars weren’t in the way.

“What happened?” she muttered, then looked to see Olé stretched over the doorway, the little Chihuahua’s little face looking guilty, yet a sliver of intent lay hiding in his eye. She realized just how invisible the dog had been all night.

Then the picture of the gift in flight set Daisy to a panic.

“Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no,” she chanted, imagining the gift from the gods fragile and now broken by her hand. She went to her knees and crawled along the floor, seeking the missing gift beneath the dresser, the desk. Olé joined her, sniffing but not knowing any better than she did for what the heck they searched.

She crawled over to one bed and threw up the covers to check beneath it. All she saw was Drew’s face appearing on the other side of the bed. “What are you looking for?”

She threw the covers back into position. “I don’t know,” she admitted, and crawled around to the other bed, checking every corner where the gift could hide. She noticed Drew’s interest, possibly focused on her upturned derriere.

She flipped the other bed spread flaps up and checked beneath to spot the box in shadow. Relieved, she reached under the bed frame and grabbed the box, bringing it with her as she rose, but the relief was short-lived. In her palm, the tiny, elaborately decorated red box lay open and empty. Drew stared expectantly at the inch-sized cube. She found nothing on the floor.

Before Daisy could consider what punishment the gods might demand of a lousy messenger, her nose detected a scent she knew well from the wild roses woven into the farm’s front gate. Roses meant home to Daisy.

Drew’s brow crashed. “Do you smell flowers?”

He leaned toward her and sniffed so close she felt the tug of breeze into his nose. “It’s you. You smell like flowers. Must be your shower soap.”

But she used the soap she made on the farm, oatmeal and otherwise unscented.

Daisy became super-aware of Drew’s close proximity. He just stood there beside her, wearing nothing but a hotel bed-sheet toga, the corners tied at one shoulder and draping the long line of his physique. Her eyes rode the open side of the toga, down his rib cage past his hips, where hard thighs and scattered hair took over. She was struck with the strongest urge to touch him, to slip her hands to his chest and run her fingers through the hair there. To caress his city-pale flesh, knead his weight-sculpted biceps, stroke the sides of his lean torso. The feeling was so strong, she broke into a sweat. Her palms itched.

Drew stepped back and began to hyperventilate. He paled, dropped onto the bed, his hand to his chest as if his breath had escaped him. He looked truly panicked.

“What is it, Drew?” Daisy asked, fearing the moment. She tossed the empty red box aside and took his hand to feel it clammy.

Was this The End?

PURCHASE 'NO FUNNY STUFF,' here- http://www.thewildrosepress.com/no-funny-stuff-song-of-the-muses-p-925.html

Our SPOTLIGHT on Michele Hart, and "No Funny Stuff," CONTINUES ...

~ABOUT MICHELE~

A latch-key kid raised in Brandon, Florida, Michele found the world outside her house boring so she lived inside shows about futuristic worlds, fantastic places. Star Trek, Bewitched, Night Stalker. Battlestar Galactica, I Dream of Jeannie, Logan’s Run. Naturally, she found her future in alternate realities! She’s keeping it UNreal.

Transylvanian blood explains her pallor and fangs, the huddling in shadows, that evil snicker! Must be a horror story lurking somewhere in her When writing a law enforcement character, she gets her concealed weapons permit. When she writes swashbucklers, she takes sword-fighting classes. She’s ready for an interstellar space trip, NASA!

Michele’s written Sci-Fi Romance, Erotic Romantic Suspense, and Romantic Comedy in lengths from a 4,000-word short story to a 9-book series. Yeah, she needs a life!

At this very moment, she’s at her computer writing a new story, doing promotions, fixing that “dumb” computer, or sticking her head in a science book, sweating bullets as she labors to understand physics, cosmology, and quantum mechanics. The girl has only so much brain RAM to work with!

Michele’s favorite writers are Katie Macalister, Jennifer Estep, and Alisha Paige. Her favorite living thing is a cute and fluffy Malti-Poo named Rocket.

PRAISE FOR MICHELE AND, "NO FUNNY STUFF"

Bitten By Books
5 out of 5 Tombstones

What do you get when you mix the Muse of Laughter, a calamity-ridden man, a fantastically eccentric red head, a Chihuahua with the heart of a rottweiler, and a task from the Gods? An utterly fabulous story filled with humor and depth, that’s what. This story practically flew off the pages and I had so much fun… I loved this spin on Greek Mythology…and the back story for Drew’s family curse was interesting. The interplay between the different deities was well done and a rather humorous version of what was said to happen rather frequently when Olympians take sides. I also got a real kick out of Thalia’s various shoe stores. I highly recommend this tale if you’re looking for a laugh out loud story that is the perfect remedy for a downer of a day or a long day at work.

Reviewer: Sarai

The Long and Short of It
5 out of 5 Books
Greek gods and muses have their own way of looking at the world, and it’s not always a nice one. If you live forever, you can hold a grudge forever, and boy, do the poor mortals sometimes suffer as a result. Thalia, muse of laughter, usually steers clear of these darker doings of her fellow celestial beings. It’s hard to find a punch line in a tragedy. But when she’s asked a little favor, she has no choice but to become involved. Daisy and Andrew meet by accident. Literally. She nearly runs him over in busy New York. Morose after losing his job, he’s in no mood to see the bright side of life, but Daisy is just such a breath of fresh air, he feels himself succumb to laughter even when he’s sure she’s nothing but trouble. That’s when the gods get involved, blowing on an already flaming fire between Andrew and Daisy. Life couldn’t get any better for either of them, but tragedy looms on the horizon. Not, however, if Thalia can help it. Sometimes the most depressing darkness just needs to be tickled in the right spot. Now if only she can decide on the perfect shoes to wear for the job… I know, I know, the genre classification isn’t quite on the usual list. However, Ms Hart’s enthralling tale needs that classification, for it has enough of each element to more than satisfy readers of humorous contemporary and fantasy alike. Beautifully written, with characters so three-dimensional you feel you can reach out and touch them, this novel is the best I’ve read for a long time. It will have you laughing out loud, chewing your nails, and sitting nowhere but on the very edge of your seat. Be warned: do not try to drink coffee while you’re reading this, you might end up spurting the brew all over your electronic reader. You’ve been warned. I highly recommend No Funny Stuff, it’s fantastic. Reviewed by: Eglantine

CLICK TO VIEW THE TRAILER FOR -"NO FUNNY STUFF"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tH9wvcZivZ4

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The SPOTLIGHT is on, "No Funny Stuff," by Michele Hart...

Something's Rotten at the Gates of Heaven...

Under conspiratorial inspiration of Olympian thrones, Thalia, the Muse of Comedy, sends a blessing of love and laughter to Drew Murphy, a young man cursed to a short and miserable life.

But when her favorite messenger Daisy Sullivan accidentally launches the magic --wrong time, wrong place, wrong method, wrong everything!-- Thalia must force to light buried secrets of a millennia-old family curse and face down a most vengeful Immortal on his own bloody stage if she wishes to free both Drew and Daisy from an unJust fate.

Ares, the God of War, loves only one thing as much as he loves bloodshed....

How's Thalia supposed to make THAT funny? At least, she's wearing her best sandals!

Visit Michele on the WEB- www.ILoveShapeShifters.com

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Chapter 1 of, "Past Regrets"

PAST REGRETS
BY: DEBRA A. SOLES

Prologue

Their mission was over and they had returned to the space station that was the Galactic Security’s main headquarters. General Ginmatager Hardigan, better known as Ginger, let out a sigh of relief as she watched her brother, Josh, leave the ship. The ship was headed back to the main offices to report in with the Warrior Delegates on the success of their mission.

Since she was old enough to go into training at age eight, Ginger had been part of the Zogone Military. First, at the Academy, then as part of the Warrior Delegates, before becoming part of the Zogone’s main forces of the Galactic Security, and then reaching the rank of Security General.

Her main goal had been to be trained well enough to be able to go on missions, like the one she had just returned from. Her crew had just come back from a rescue mission on Earth, or rather a retrieval of a human with a secondary mission to annihilate one of the Zogone’s top ten dangerous criminals. It had been a dangerous mission that had required patience, brain and all her years of experience to pull off. Over five hundred years ago, her great, great, great grandmother had been brutally killed. Her killer was a minister-turned-vampire, better known as the Puritan Vampire, who believed Ginger’s grandmother had cursed him—and he swore to stop at nothing to kill her grandmother again. Somehow the monster knew she had been reincarnated, as if her smell or very essence could be felt in the air the moment she was reborn.

At the death of his young wife, Brian, her great, great, great grandfather had been cryogenically frozen and was re-awakened at the time his wife’s life signature was recognized in a present-day teenager. After being reincarnated, Colleen was renamed Arlene, and when she started college, Ginger and the Zogones had maneuvered her life. The first day in her new college town, she had met Brian and the memories started to pour in until Arlene remembered everything from her past life.

After bringing Arlene back into their lives, the Zogones’ last goal was to destroy the Puritan Vampire. Their mission was to stop the monster, so that he could never harm anyone again, though his victim’s list was disturbingly long.

Now with their mission complete, they had returned home to the space station. Brian and Arlene slipped by Ginger and headed back to the Science Department along with Arlene’s present day parents, Harold and Marsha Garnet.

Then there was Sam, another of the Puritan Vampire’s victims. His mother had been attacked, raped, beaten and left for dead, carrying a viral blood disease that killed her six years later, but not before she had born a child from the attack, Sam himself. He was half-vampire/half-human, thanks to the Puritan Vampire. Nevertheless, Sam had found his revenge, being the one to place a silver, holy-water-forged bullet in his father’s brains, killing him and ending the cycle of evil.

Like Arlene, Sam was a human, an Earthling and now a friend to them all. For Ginger, Sam was not just a friend or like a brother. No, Sam made Ginger feel things she had never felt before. Like an Adonis of Greek legend, he had long dirty blond hair and smoky blue gray eyes. An aura of mystery surrounded him. But unlike a Greek god, Sam was tall and almost gangly in his young man’s body, not quite fully grown at twenty years old.

Ginger had spent so long and worked so hard on training that she had never taken the time for a life of her own, never wanted a relationship with anyone, until now. Not until Sam had slipped into her life, with shared dreams and fears, forcing her to see there was more to life than just work.

It was terrifying and agonizing, but it gave her hope. Her grandparents had a love that had spanned the ages, undying and true to each other. Ginger could sense the same things could develop with Sam one day if she could find the courage to tell him how she felt, but being a novice in love she wasn’t sure how. Now that Brian and Arlene planned to renew their wedding vows, it just seemed to bolster Ginger’s courage and help her decide to try.

Giving him a small smile, she took his hand in hers and led him through the station toward the Galactic Security center’s dorms where her private quarters were located. Standing up straight, using her position of authority to bolster her confidence, she took both his hands in hers and let their gazes lock.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

His eyes flickered down to their clasped hands, then back up to her face. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, too.”

“Good, so we are agreed this talk has been put on hold long enough. I’m not sure how you feel, but I would like you to stay with the Zogone people instead of going back to Earth.”

Lifting a hand, he brushed his strong fingers across her earlobe and twining them through her short red hair. “Why do you want me to stay?”

Twitching nervously under his gaze, she licked her lips before she could mumble around the lump in her throat. “I care about you and … well, I think you would be happier here.”

He watched her closely and for some reason she could tell both her actions and her words affected him as his breath grew shallow. “I have every intention of staying with your people. I don’t belong on Earth around normal people. I belong here where I can do some good.”

Her heart leapt, “I’m glad you are going to stay. I would like for us to … I mean, we could try and …”

Her words faltered along with the trembling confusion of her feelings. Each movement of his body, each tiny breath riveted her. Licking her suddenly dry lips again, she gasped as he moved closer.

Taking her agreement for granted, he pulled her tightly into his arms and slowly his head lowered until their lips touched. Unlike the morning at the campground where they had first kissed, he didn’t just touch her lips gently before pulling away. This time he advanced further, racking a hand through her hair, angling her head back and then took full possession of her mouth.

Last time had been comforting, sweet and a gentle caress. This kiss was wild, hot, stimulating and the desire that rocketed through her made her knees weak. Her stomach quivered and her hands trembled as they wound around his neck.

Her shyness vanished as her emotions took over. She let herself go on instinct, letting her body find the best position against him, snug in his embrace. Her hands slid over his shoulders, feeling all the hard muscles of his chest.

Their first kiss left her wondering, because it had been her first kiss ever.

However, this kiss made a world of promises that left her expectant.

Her skin felt hot like it was on fire, yet at the same time shivers raced down her spine as if her feelings were forming a mutiny to take control of her body, until she could no longer think.

There was a hard rap on the door and before Ginger and Sam could pull back. Her brother Josh let himself in the door. Josh loved to barge into Ginger’s room uninvited, because no one else could confuse the door locks. His genetic coding matched Ginger’s and confused the locking mechanism.

Pulling back beyond embarrassed, Ginger’s eyes met the confused emerald green ones of her older brother. “I don’t know what is going on here and I don’t want to know, either. I just came to deliver a message.”

Her voice cracked as she asked, “What message?”
“It isn’t for you.” Turning toward Sam he said, “Major Sharball is on a transmission line in one of the offices and he wants to talk to you. I saw you leave the dock with Ginger and figured I would find you where ever Ginger was.”

Turning to Ginger he shrugged, “Your assistant said you had headed this way.”

Not wanting to believe her own ears, she turned to Sam, “Major Sharball, the Major Sharball of the Warrior Delegates, Josh’s commanding officer? What does he want with you?”

Sam looked at Josh, “Give me ten minutes and I’ll catch up with you.”

Nodding gravely, Josh left the room, as Sam turned to Ginger. “I was planning to tell you. We just got a little sidetracked.”

Ginger stepped back shaking her head, “No, you said you were staying here.”

“I said I was staying with your people. I never said I was staying right here on this space station.”

Sam reached toward her, but she jerked her arm back. “You know damn well I thought you meant you would stay here … with me.”

Dropping his hands by his sides, Sam sighed. “I’m sorry, Ginger; this is just something I have to do. I would like to stay here, with you, but I just can’t.”

Balling up her fists tightly she gulped holding her anger in, but could hardly keep herself from yelling, “Why? Why can’t you just tell them you’ve changed your mind and stay with me?”

Sam’s eyes met hers again and she could see the desperation written on his face.

“Because I don’t deserve you. I’m a monster like my father and I have to make up for all the bad things before I have a right to call my life my own.”

Understanding his feelings, though knowing he was wrong she asked, “Isn’t there some way I can change your mind?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“When are you leaving?” she asked through tight lips and barely hidden tears.

Turning his back on her, he mumbled, “In two days I’ll be leaving for Adrivar with Josh.”

As he walked out the door, she yelled back, “Fine go then, be a macho jerk and see if I care.”

It was the last thing she said to him, because he didn’t come back and she didn’t go after him. She did not see him again, before he left two days later, except from far off as he boarded the space ship with the other Warrior Delegates headed for their home planet of Adrivar.

That night she cried herself to sleep and promised herself never again would she let stupid little girl emotions rule her.

From that day, she amended to become the best General alive and forget about any relationship that was not linked by blood.

Chapter One

Every day and every night was spent on Galactic Security business, to the point where Ginger had no life except for the Zogone military. Over the last few years, she hadn’t even taken a real vacation, only taking a few days at a time to visit her grandparents on the science space station, called Swanson, two galaxies over.

Her excuse was that the war between the Zogones and the Baygers kept her busy, between training programs, delegations and actually going into battles. This war had become Ginger’s new personal vendetta to replace her grandmother

Four years had passed and through hard work, Ginger had gotten to the point of being ready to be promoted to Major. She wasn’t supposed to know about it, but the office gossip had a rumor that said her own superior officer was going to be approaching her soon. Ginger wasn’t cocky or arrogant; she just knew above everyone else she deserved this promotion.

Every day and every night was spent on Galactic Security business, to the point where Ginger had no life except for the Zogonrescue obsession.


The expected summons came from Colonel Daimlar during one of Ginger’s unusually slow days, making it easy for her to leave her office and make it in time for her meeting. With a professional and not over-eager smile planted on her face, Ginger was shown into Daimlar’s office.

Wearing the long blueberry blue-and-white robes of the Galactic Security Academy, Diamlar looked very sophisticated, very colonel-ish with his short light-brown hair and age-carved skin. He was tall and willowy, stooping slightly and looking like a giant humpback.

Saluting each other smartly, middle finger and index finger held together then tapped to the forehead, Daimlar motioned for her to take a seat. “I’m sure you’re curious why you’ve been summoned here today.”

Nodding politely she answered, “Yes, I was sir, but I’m sure you’ll alleviate that curiosity.”

“All of your commanding officers have noticed your hard work since the restart of this war with the Baygers and we would like to reward you for everything you have done.”

Trying to act surprised Ginger replied, “Why thank you, but no reward is needed. I work hard for our people, for their protection and happiness.”

Reciting part of the Galactic Security mandate.Linking his fingers on the desk in front of him, Daimlar nodding. “But of course no reward comes without judgment. The colonels all agree that in order to get your promotion you need to prove you are completely ready to be a major.”

With a smile, she nodded sweetly, though she was fuming inside, “Of course sir, whatever the colonels think is best.”

Grinning widely he answered, “I knew we could count on you, General Hardigan. We have a very important mission for you. The youngest son of Colonel Qualtose was aboard the luxury ship Lasondra when it was attacked by one of the Baygers’ squadron last week.”

He held out a small rectangular handheld computer system. “Here is all the information we were able to receive on his kidnapping. Your mission is to go to the Baygers’ main military headquarters on their home planet and rescue young Mr. Qualtose.”

Scanning the first page of information Ginger automatically went into general mode.

“How many men will I be taking for back-up?”

There was a pause, one Ginger was used to preceding unwanted information, so looking up she watched Daimlar as he tapped his desktop nervously. “Just one man. The Warrior Delegates have a newly promoted captain who they believe needs a chance to prove himself, so they are giving him that chance by sending him with you.”

Shocked beyond belief, Ginger dropped the computer device in her lap and stared across the desk at Colonel Daimlar. “You expect me to sneak into the Baygers’ main headquarters, rescue some rich, pampered, whiney kid and make it back here alive? But I’m supposed to do that with one hot-shot rookie warrior who has a thirst for adventure, but not enough sense to keep himself alive much less cover my backside?”

Holding up both hands, he waved them at Ginger. “Now just wait a minute, there is no need to jump to conclusions. Do not judge the situation yet. We would not be sending you if we did not think the two of you could successfully complete this mission. Now the warrior captain will be here soon and the two of you can work everything out.”

For the next few minutes, Ginger went over each minor and major issue of the case. Diamlar showed her maps of the planet where Qualtoes was being kept. Ginger started a list of the equipment that would be needed for the rescue mission.

There was a knock on the door and one of Diamlar’s secretaries stuck her head in, “The Warrior Delegates’ captain is here to see you, Colonel.”

Ginger kept entering figures into her handheld, while the door was shut and reopened, then she looked up as Diamlar said, “Good afternoon Captain, so good of you to come all this way.”

Ginger was half way out of her chair before she realized what she was doing, then instantly sat back down. There wasn’t going to be any warm welcome from her.

Diamlar waved the captain into a chair before making the introductions. “General Ginmatager Hardigan, Galactic Security. Captain Samuel Paddington of the Warrior Delegates.”

Ginger barely nodded, refusing to show familiarity at all. “Captain.”

Sam on the other hand spoke up with, “Yeah, I know Ginger. If you look at my file you’ll see I work under her brother General Jomafash Hardigan and all three of us worked together on a mission before I joined the Delegates.”

Scratching his head Colonel Diamlar shuffled through a folder in front of him. “Ah, yes I see that here. General Hardigan even left a note in here saying the two of you worked great together. I hadn’t realized, but someone must have seen this and taken it into consideration when partnering you two for this mission.”

Nodding, Ginger cut in, “If that is all, Colonel, I need to get back to work.”

Handing her the file folder in his hands he nodded, “Yes that will be all. I expect a detailed list of your requirements in the morning. I would like you to leave in two days max.”

“Understood Colonel.” Nodding at the two men she mumbled, “Captain.” Then she walked out the door.

Ginger fumed all the way back to her office. No one had ever busted their butt harder for the Galactic Security Academy, yet she had to prove herself in order to get a promotion she had more than earned years ago. Then to be sent on some rescue mission to save some useless rich punk was a complete slap in the face!

But the worst offense of all was being sent on some suicide mission and being stuck alone with Sam for goodness only knew how long. Sitting behind her desk, she spent the next twenty minutes cursing him.

Damn him for coming back! Damn him for walking back into her neat organized life. Moreover, may the ceiling fall down around his head for looking like some blond Adonis god of her deepest-most-secret desire.

Burying her head in work and war hadn’t removed the hurt and humiliation of having handed him her heart and having him stomp on it, before walking out on her. She was not the same weak-kneed girl she had been four years ago. People had even gotten to the point of whispering behind her back. The usual was that she was a relentless hard ass who only cared for the military.

Ginger was definitely not the sweetie pie college girl Sam had met on Earth. She had become General Hardigan, heart and soul. As long as he was around that was the side she promised to show him, there would be no more love-sick stupid little girl in front of him ever again.

Taking a deep breath, she told herself to let it go and not let it bother her. Carefully she filled out a list of equipment she would need for the mission.

1. Transmitter equipment
2. Portable tracker equipment
3. Four laser rifles
4. Two bedrolls, weather watch ones to control nighttime unknown temperatures
5. Two lightweight backpacks
6. Military rations for two including water cantinas: about three days worth
7. Two fire resistant uniforms with built in invisibility busters and utility belts
8. Security detectors with inferred and heat sensors
9. Miniature explosives ranging in different special abilities
10. Detailed maps and floor plans (if they managed to get them in time)

Nodding, Ginger stood up, thinking the list would do. Leaving everything on her long silver metal desk, except for her list, she walked out of her office. Catching a messenger, she had them run the list back up to Colonel Diamlar’s office with a note saying she would be ready when the supplies were ready, as well as the Warrior Delegate’s captain.

She stopped off at her secretary’s office long enough to let the young blond girl know to send all messages to her private quarters. Putting everything out of her mind, she headed toward the dorms, knowing she needed to rest up for the mission ahead. It sure was not going to be easy physically or mentally for that matter.

“Maybe I’ll send a transmission to Gran and Pop tonight. I’m sure they’ll be worried when they find about this mission.”

But she wouldn’t be surprised if her dear brother Josh had already told them.Thinking it was probably a good idea, she nodded to herself as she flipped a lock of fire red hair absentmindedly behind her ear.

Yeah, she could do that, and then have some dinner before bed. Anything else could be put off till tomorrow.

Saying and actually doing were two things, though. Her mind automatically went over her list and the new information she had covered that afternoon. War tactics and training programs swirled around her brain in a confusion of techniques she could use on her rescue mission.

Distractedly she stopped in front of her door and placed her thumb on the DNA coding lock, to let herself in. Pulling the military required flat-blue hat from her head she dropped it on a near by metal end table along with the tiny silver General wings pen from her left shoulder.

Kicking off her shoes, she headed to her bedroom, then down the hall to her private bathroom. After a quick shower, Ginger slid into a long black silky nightgown, then pulled on a matching robe.

Sam!

Why of all the Warrior Delegate’s captains, did they have to pick Sam for this mission?

Not to get her wrong, she knew Sam probably made a fabulous captain and would easily advance in the ranks with the Warrior Delegates. After all, Ginger had worked side by side with Sam on her mission to Earth four years prior and had watched as he overcame all odds to defeat the monster that had ruined so many lives like his and shaped others like her own.

As a partner in war, he was great, but any other captain would have been ten times more welcome. Any anonymous rooky would have been easier to deal with than Sam.

Though she hadn’t wanted to admit it even to herself, every tiny change in Sam had drawn her in, making her notice each insignificant tiny thing. The last time she had seen Sam his dirty blond hair had been brushing the tops of his shoulder blades in an almost shaggy wave. Since joining the Delegates, he had cut it an inch or so above his shoulder, taking off a good half foot, leaving a smooth even line.

The hunched, stressed look of maltreatment had melted from his body to be replaced by a strong confidence. The angry wariness had been replaced by a sickeningly sunny disposition. In the old days, Sam had been dark and threatening, now he just seemed human. Maybe loving and losing made her romanticize him into a man who had never really existed. His dark mysterious prowess was now just a blond god or rather just a man, another soldier like any other.

Unimagined by her, he still edged up to almost six feet tall. His eyes were still that heated blue gray from her memories and, if possible, his body was even more muscular and lean than her dreams. The sexy, rough stubble that seemed to persistently rein on his hard-sculpted chin was now gone—he had a clean-shaven look. The change wasn’t really that bad, though she could still feel the bristles racking across her sensitive face as if he had only kissed her moments before.

Straightening her shoulders and glaring with all the authority she possessed, Ginger growled.

“Oh well, it really doesn’t matter. It was his choice to leave. His own fears were more powerful than anything he felt for me, so it’s his loss.”

However, Ginger knew it wasn’t true; it was her own loss, as well. Sam’s fears had cost them both so much, time, experience and true love. In her own way, Ginger did understand. Sam had never felt like he deserved Ginger and everything she was offering him.

Ginger hoped that when their enemy was destroyed, Sam might come to her and share his love, but she had been wrong once again. Sam destroyed the monster known as the Puritan Vampire, but didn’t think he had done enough to deserve her. He felt as if he had to pay back the galaxy for all his sins, as well the sins of the monster he had destroyed.

The thing was, the Puritan Vampire had been his father and he himself was half vampire/half human. In leaving Ginger and joining the Warrior Delegates, he thought he could do enough good to deserve Ginger. But honestly, when would it be enough? When would he stop paying for the sins of his father, a man who had raped and beaten his own mother?

Ginger had given up hope waiting for Sam. Now that he was back it would be pure hell to be around him and even worse to be alone with him for so long. She promised herself that she would not let him see how deeply he had hurt her and how much she still cared about him. Pride might be a dull companion for the rest of her life, but it was all she had left. She wasn’t about to let Sam trample her heart again.

From this point on, she would act like the uptight general and be all business. For Sam there would be no more Ginger, just his commanding officer General Ginmatager Hardigan. Using all of her abilities, she would quickly complete their mission.

Then, they could return to base and she would never have to see him again. Her soul might bleed a little more each day without him, but she was strong and knew from the last four years that she would survive.

Trying to force Sam from her mind, she remembered her idea of contacting her grandparents. Ginger smiled just thinking about them. Her mission with Sam four years ago had also included her older brother Josh, better known as General Jomafash Hardigan of the Warrior Delegates. Also on their trip was her grandfather Brian, a scientist specializing in alien communication.

Brian was technically her five-hundred-and-twenty-six-year-old great, great, great grandfather, although he now lived in the body of a twenty-six-year old. After the brutal murder of his wife Colleen, Brian had chosen to be cryogenically frozen until the day their computers could spot his wife’s life signs again after she had been reincarnated.

Six years before, the computers had located her on Earth. Ginger’s mission was to go to Earth help the girl known as Arlene Garnet regain Colleen’s memories and destroy the Puritan Vampire who had not only killed Colleen, but promised to destroy Arlene, as well.

It sounded strange that her grandparents were each actually over five hundred years old, but lived in bodies of twenty-something’s. Arlene and Brian had been remarried and transferred back to his science department on Space Station Swanson just out of orbit of the Zogone’s home planet Adrivar. On Earth, Arlene had become more than family to Ginger; she had become her very best friend, her first true friend.

Ginger sat down in a big squishy chair in front of a bare wall in her living room. Then waving a hand in front of the blank wall, a large screen appeared.

“Communication to Space Station Swanson to Dr. Brianeth Hardigan’s private quarters.”

The screen blinked, beeped twice, and then suddenly it was zooming in on a purple silk-covered hip. Ginger grinned as Arlene slid into the chair opposite her own screen.

A happy flush covered Arlene’s face as she grinned back, comforting Ginger with the simple gesture.

Arlene was only twenty-two and still held the bright look of youth, an ecstatically happy one at that. Being head-over-heels in love with the man of your dreams looked great on her, but seeing how much he loved her in return was even better. Some times Ginger thought Arlene was the luckiest woman in any galaxy.

Arlene’s long reddish-brown hair was a touch darker than Ginger’s own red mane. Ginger thought that Arlene must be growing her hair. In her previous life, Colleen’s hair had grown down to the back of her waist. Arlene must have remembered that fact and regretted the loss of the glorious locks.

Like Ginger, Arlene had pale skin, enhanced with bright emerald green eyes. Though Arlene was a respectable five-foot-six inches, Ginger still won that race by a few inches, climbing almost to five-nine. It was amazing how much alike they were. Both lean, though Ginger was more muscular from being in the military so long. And because of Colleen, Ginger was one-sixteenth Earthling, but Arlene was a full-blooded human.

“Oh, Ginger, I’m so glad this was you.”

“Hi, Gran! How are you and Brian doing these days?”

Grinning like an impish fool Arlene answered, “We are absolutely fabulous as you can imagine. Life with Brian just gets better and better.”

Then stopping with a frown, she added, “Though we have been worried about you. Josh called us yesterday to tell us about your new mission. Do you think this is such a good idea? I mean you shouldn’t have to prove anything to those people, for goodness sake! You work yourself to death for those ungrateful, little—” she started fuming, cursing under her breath.

Her temper had obviously been inherited from Colleen’s Scottish roots. Just watching Arlene growl furious remarks about her commanding officer made Ginger feel ten times better. She congratulated herself on her decision to contact Arlene, because she always made Ginger feel better about any situation. Then again Arlene wasn’t just her best friend, but also her grandmother so it was a given that she would contact her regularly. It was still a little hard to grasp that her great grandparents were so young, especially Brian who was well over 500 years old now. Odd as it may be she still loved them both dearly.

“It’s okay Gran. I’m sure it is nothing I can’t handle. I will be in and out in a few days with no harm done. I am more than qualified for this type of mission. But you’re right; the Colonels just need a lackey to clean up after them, and I was lucky enough to be picked.” Twirling a finger in the air beside her face she added, “Wow! lucky me.”

Arlene frowned, but Ginger could tell she was trying to cover a grin. “I’ll try not to worry, but don’t bet on it. At least I’ll sleep better knowing Sam will be there with you.”

Stopping, Arlene’s eyes flickered over Ginger’s face obviously looking for a reaction, because Arlene had always known how Ginger felt about Sam.

“How do you feel about having him back here?”

Not meeting her eyes, because she could never lie to Arlene, she answered, “I don’t feel anything. We have a job to do. We will get it done, and then he’ll go back to Josh and the Delegates. No big deal; life goes on.”

A loud clearing of the throat brought Ginger’s attention back to the screen. “Well, I do think it is a big deal. Why don’t you take this assignment as a helping hand from destiny? Talk to Sam and tell him how you feel. I mean, it has been four years, Ging; maybe Sam is ready now, too. Maybe the two of you can work it out now.”

Shaking her head, Ginger leaned back in her chair with a sigh. “No, it’s too late. Sam never felt the way I did and I have more pride than to throw myself at a man who doesn’t want me. Besides it has been four years and maybe I didn’t have the patience to wait for him.”

Nodding sheepishly, Arlene smiled, “Four years is nothing. You are just as stubborn as your grandfather and he waited over five hundred years for me.”

Kissing her hand, she waved it at Ginger. “You think about that, sweetheart. Bye baby, keep me posted on what happens between you two. I‘m sure it is going to get interesting one way or another and I can‘t wait to see what happens.”

Arlene disconnected and the screen went blank before vanishing from in front of Ginger back into the wall. It was true that Brian had chosen to wait for Colleen to be reborn, but he had been frozen all that time. He didn’t have to live each empty lonely day, wishing and wanting something that would never come. Brian had known one day that Colleen would be reborn. Ginger had no reassurance that Sam would ever give up his salvation mission and come back to her.

Shaking her head, she said the words aloud to make sure she got the point across to herself.

“No, if Sam had really wanted me he would have never left. If he wanted me now, he would be here. But he doesn’t, so he isn’t. It’s over, forget about it. Go on with your life, Ginger, you’ll survive!”

Nodding at the blank wall in front of her, she hopped up and headed to bed. Forgetting to eat didn’t seem to matter. Ginger was more interested in sleeping and putting this day behind her and being that much closer to watching Sam leave when the mission was over.

http://www.newconceptspublishing.com/debraasoles.htm.