Friday, December 9, 2022

Excerpts and links from Lynelle Clark’s books.

 


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Title: A Pirate’s Wife. 

Free on all platforms.

Genre: Historical Romance

 

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Paperback is R120 excluding courier. A Pirate's Wife (authorlynelleclark.blogspot.com)

To add to your TBR list on Goodreads.

 

Blurb:

Rosa Lee Almaida lived a sheltered and carefree life as a child. That changed when she and her mother experienced a horrific ordeal on the seas. Shipwrecked, survival in the heart of Africa became paramount. The only joy came after she met her adoptive father, a man honored by all sailors on sea and land for his bravery and unconditional love. He became her hero, the role model of her own husband to be. Now, twenty years later, forced to return to the seas that took the life of her birth father and so many others, she must learn to survive once more.

Abducted from her parent’s castle in Portugal, Rosa Lee Almaida becomes part of a ransom to The Falcon, a brutal Pirate King on the Island of Madagascar, in exchange for her younger brother Pedro’s life.

She comes face to face with The Falcon’s son, Roberto de Ville, a man as fierce as his illustrious father but who has his own hidden agenda. During the voyage, she learns to admire Roberto for his leadership and skill, but can she overlook his pirate exterior to see the man for who he is?

Through the inscriptions her parents left in their diaries, she learns about love and survival while trusting for a good outcome. In an unexpected turn of events, she learns she must trust Roberto unconditionally, hoping they will spare her life. She gives herself over to the love and intimacy of the man she now craves.

Taking Rosa Lee from Portugal, Roberto brings her to the Falcon on the Isle of St Mary. Enchanted by the stories told to him by her brother, he knows that Rosa Lee is destined to be his. Listening to her and seeing her bravery, he knows this is the woman he has waited for all his life. He will give up the dangerous life of a pirate, but first he must set an intricate plan into motion that will change his life forever. He, along with Pierre, his second in command, rush against time to bring the plan to fruition.

In the end, Rosa Lee discovers a valuable lesson that startles her: NEVER JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER.

 


Excerpt:

“December 25, 1623

It has been two years since our journey of survival began in Africa. Two years since I have written anything down in my diary, the only book I was able to save on that hopeless night of September 29, 1621.

But before I capture those terrible events, I want to pen down my love’s reaction to the estate we will be living in for the rest of our lives.

In the end it became possible for us to be together. The price was high, but we have survived and I know with Cisco at my side I can face anything else.

As a Christmas gift I gave him full ownership of my estate. It has been handed down from generation to generation of Artiagas. I knew he would be the perfect landowner to continue the legacy my family started, and that my inheritance was safe.

When Rosa-Lee climbed on his lap to give him a big wet kiss he smiled down at her and gave her a bear hug. The last few days he had been extremely emotional. We both felt a deep compassion for him. I feel proud to know this man, my husband, Cisco Almaida. When I handed him the papers, he was shocked. Disbelief shone clear in the blue depths of his eyes. He had the same expression when we first arrived two days ago.

He could not believe the large estate or the castle, built by my great-great grandfather all those years ago.

When we arrived Cisco only stared at the estate, the manicured gardens and lawns only yellow due to the cold weather, and I had to encourage him to step into the castle as man of the house. This was more than he ever dreamed of. His mind was stunned and dumbfounded at the magnitude of the riches he faced.

I had told him about the place, to prepare him, but I knew he would only appreciate it fully when he saw it.

He stood in the enormous foyer of the castle and gaped in awe. The magnificent wooden staircase spiraled to the upper levels. The black and white marble tiles gleamed in the late sunlight. Fires were already laid all through the house, for which we were grateful. The staff had done a magnificent work in maintaining the place while we were gone.

He felt overwhelmed by it all until Rosa-Lee reached for his hand and walked with him to the parlor with its exquisite furniture, tapestries, and golden framed paintings of past generations. She chattered nonstop, even if it was her first visit. But the difference was she is used to these riches and he was not.

After we settled in, he walked the estate over the next two days, and I showed him the inheritance. Surrounded with a rapid-flowing river with tree lines on both sides, the castle looked impressive, built out of stones and brick, standing three stories tall in the Portugal sun. Each room was filled with generations worth of treasures; heavy hand-crafted furniture, art, and family portraits, tapestries bought in India, China, Spain, and Africa, rich in color, hung on the walls.

At first, he could not comprehend the papers, or his new title as landowner. He struggled for words this morning but accepted the responsibilities as property owner. This was a challenging time for Portugal. The country was in a transitional phase and landowners were often unfair dictators. But I knew he was wise and would treat his people with respect and kindness. He would give them what was fair, distributing our wealth for the benefit of all.

Cisco is willing to learn. His good, kind heart draws people closer. Already he and Franco, the manager of the estate, have a close friendship. His first lesson was to learn to ride his horse, another present from Rosa-Lee. She was so excited when the horse was presented to him that she giggled with pure joy. His face lit up in childlike wonder at the powerfully muscled black stallion. When he approached the animal the horse responded in like fashion. It took us a while to get him back in the house.

What a delight the day has been. Alfonso will leave soon on the ship Cisco received from the D.E.I.C. for his brave efforts during the last two years. Kayla and Derek will leave for their new home in Spain and the house will become ours alone. There are so many things I still want to show him. I can hardly wait.

But tonight I will give him his greatest gift when I reveal my pregnancy to him. I just know this will leave him speechless.

†††

It was the year 1641 on the south coast of Portugal. The lone figure of a young woman looked over the vast blue sea. A breeze rippled playfully on the water’s surface. To her it spelt trouble, haunting her thoughts with what if’s, reliving the past as if it were just yesterday, crystal clear in her mind. Every day for the last two weeks she had looked at the horizon, hoping to see her father’s well-known merchant ship with his ensign flag appear. But there was no sign. The foreboding feelings accumulated again within her heart, making her anxious and troubled.

While she waited, she read her parents” diaries, a present for her eighteenth birthday, and her most treasured possessions in the whole world, for the umpteenth time. The leather-bound books were soft under her touch, the papers already yellowing. She had read them so often that she knew them by heart, but still they evoked in her a sense of belonging. They held her past but also her future. At twenty-four she knew her future would be colourful and beautiful. She felt safe when reading the pages, and knew if they had made it, she would make it as well.

Coming on the ship was her eagerly awaited younger brother, only sixteen years of age. He had been so excited about his first voyage as a sailor that they could hardly stay in the same house with him. Their father had taught them all about the sea since they could understand and walk.

He had taught them to read the stars at night, to read charts, navigating their own way. He sent them on the ship for countless lessons; lessons they never tired of.

Pedro always had a bigger love for the sea. He was more like their father in his kind-heartedness and was a gentle giant with dark blond hair. He was more excited about the lifestyle of a sailor, exploring new countries, loving the openness of the seas. Their father told the stories of his adventures and especially the time she, Rosa-Lee, and their mother had met him. He was still a sailor then, and the tale included the two years it took them to get back to Portugal after leaving India, where their journey had begun, and Rosa-Lee had been born.

As a birthday gift, her father had given Pedro the position of cabin boy to Captain Alfonso, his good friend, to go out to India. He went away for seven months, and by her father’s calculations, he should have already been back.

Her other brother Manuel was the farmer. He inherited the love of the land and its people from his mother. He also looked like their father in build, but his skin and hair were darker, like Rosa-Lee’s and her mother’s. Manuel had a gentle and caring heart that made him loveable and accessible to the villagers.

At the tender age of eighteen, he was already a leader. The people looked up to him and along with their father he built up the estate and expanded the business.

Rosa-Lee knew that this delay in Pedro’s safe return was hard on her mother and father. Not knowing his whereabouts was difficult but they could only remain calm, waiting. The mood tensed in their home as her father paced the passageways of the castle, anxious and nervous.

Finally, on Sunday afternoon of the second week, Rosa-Lee saw sails heading their way. Shading her eyes, she squinted as she watched the sails coming nearer to the shore at a tormentingly slow rate. Rosa-Lee could now see that it was the Contra O Vento. The smaller frigate usually accompanied the merchant ship as extra security. It was faster and streamlined, not her father’s bulky merchant ship.

Dread filled her heart as she watched the sailors running around on the deck, furling the sails to dock in the harbour. The ensign on the top of the main mast certainly was her father’s crest. Cisco Almaida was a merchant working for the D.E.I.C. He received his first ship eighteen years ago after serving at the sea for nineteen years as a sailor. It was a reward for his bravery and leadership during that fatal voyage where her biological father had passed away along with two hundred and sixty four crewmembers, slaves and passengers. Gathering the cream fabric of her skirt in her hands she ran down the road to the harbour to meet the captain of the ship she recognized. She was hoping that it would be good news about her brother but the sense of dread did not leave her small body as her chestnut hair streamed behind her, her small oval face wary and troubled.

The months of waiting in anticipation of Pedro had been too long. They stayed a close-knit family, especially Mother, Father and herself, but the two boys who had not yet had adventures did not understand the dangerous side of sailing ships. It sounded foreign and distant to them, just stories they had heard all their lives. But Rosa-Lee and her parents knew how quickly things could change on the sea. They had lived on it and had survived its worst.

Pedro was still very young, inexperienced about life.

Rosa-Lee’s dress whipped against her legs as she ran down the shoreline into the town, her lungs burning with the unusual exercise. Today she did not see the splendour of the sea or land, the birds flying just over the top of her head. She did not notice the familiar faces, townspeople who waved at her and flashed toothy smiles. She just wanted to find out any news. With
only the Contra O Vento coming in she was worried.

When she reached the berth, the captain stood on the bridge at the side, peering through the tackle works, deep in thought. As the plank lowered onto the pier she had a sinking feeling that something was very wrong; that life as she knew it is about to change.

“Captain, any news?” she shouted.”


Title: Bella’s Choice. $0.99c in Kindle.

Genre: Contemporary Romance

 

Buy Links

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Smashwords / Barnes & Noble / Bol.com 

Kobo / Webnovel / Dreame / Ringdom 

Paperback Bella's Choice (authorlynelleclark.blogspot.com)

To add to your TBR list on Goodreads

 

 

Blurb:

 Two roads. One choice.

Anabella Anthony found she was alone in the world at eighteen. Early on, she made a choice; to live an ordinary life away from the lifestyle her parents preferred. However, they had plans for her; they wanted her to become a part of their choices. 

All she wanted was a regular household, with normal day to day issues like her peers, parents she could respect, and who above anything else would accept her for the person she is. Torn between dreams that filled her mind with alluring effects and uncomfortable events which tried to sway her, she had to come to a resolution: find peace and stay true to her convictions. 

Through it all, she excelled in her sport; a dedicated student who falls in love with a much older man. Will she give in to her body's desires, or will she remain steadfast in her own choices? Can she find the courage to stand amidst the turmoil wanting to drag her down? And most importantly, will she ever forgive those who meant to harm her? 

Aldrich Hagin, a lawyer, is ready to settle down. After a tragic loss he experienced right after university he is now, more than ever, ready to move on and start a family. And then he meets a young, energetic, lively woman who turns his life and heart around. Will he be willing to sacrifice his own desires and wait? Can he help her and be the anchor she so desperately needs? Confronted with his own decisions, the choice is his as to whether he’ll stay or leave. What will he decide? 

A love story filled with decisions both have to make; to stand against all odds and remain true to oneself. Will they make the right decisions?

 


Excerpt

Anabella emerged from the swimming pool―the rippling water a clear aqua right to the tiled floor―wiping water from her eyes with a brush of her hands, and making sure her hair was neat. She had just swum twenty laps as part of her training program for her upcoming championship and felt good, energized, excited, and ready to compete. She had put in long hours, focused every effort to accomplish this one gold medal; her dream for many years. It would open doors for her future plans and was in reach―she could feel it. Anabella knew she was ready.

“How do you feel, Anabella?” asked Mr. Rhodes, her coach.

“Excellent! I’m not even tired. This was a good workout,” she answered.

“Are your parents bringing you to the venue, or should I pick you up?”

“They are out of town, so I would really appreciate it if you could pick me up.” Although she could easily drive herself to the championship, she preferred to go with someone. The tension and stiffness of sore muscles after a hard race brought numbness to her limbs, which made driving almost impossible.

“Then it is settled. I will pick you up at 7am, sharp. Don’t be late,” her coach said sternly.

“I won’t be, Mr. Rhodes.”

“Go and rest, relax this afternoon, and make sure you are in bed early. Don’t worry about anything; all will be fine. You have worked hard these past few months.”

“Yes, sir.” She knew she had worked hard. The sore muscles were evidence, as well as the fact that she had not spent much time with family or friends. She had enough confidence in her abilities not to be worried at all and loved the competitive side of the sport; racing against a good competitor, and the excitement of winning after giving it her all.

There was solitude once you dove into the water, only you and it, and the lane stretching ahead. Sounds of the crowd did not bother her. At moments like these, she could allow the water to enclose her and swim through the currents created by other swimmers. An unsurpassed sense of freedom and accomplishment ran through her veins, and the adrenaline rushed through her core, making her feel alive. Here, she felt whole, forgetting everything else. Here, she was in control of her surroundings and her own life. Here, she set the pace, overcoming all fears.

It was her home, the place she felt safe. Over the years, the swimming pool had been the only place she’d considered a safe haven in her otherwise dysfunctional life. How she had longed for a healthy family life, to wrap her arms around a loving father and a caring mother, to tell them about her day, to include them in her life. She sighed as she turned away from the pool, burying the negative thoughts wanting to rob her from her jovial mood.

Confidence radiated from her whole posture and she felt good, really good. She never let on what was taking place within her mind. She never allowed outsiders into her life. She was always the outsider, never part of the family concept. Her only confidence came from who she was, as well as her accomplishments in either sports or academics. However, it neither made her arrogant or self-absorbed.

While Mr. Rhodes was talking, she managed to dry herself and put her sweatpants and top on, ready to go to her house.

“Bye, sir. See you tomorrow at 7am, and thanks.” She respected her coach for his time and devotion where she was concerned. He had put in just as much time as she had the last couple of months during training. She had learned to trust him for all the advice and his continued motivation, and would miss him when she went off to varsity the following year. He had influenced her to study to be a physiotherapist as her passion was to work with people.

“Bye, Anabella. See you in the morning.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Rhodes.”

Once home, she went straight to the shower. The warm water was soothing to her sore muscles and she fully relaxed under the spray. She was all alone―for a change there weren’t a lot of people in the house. Her parents had gone to a business seminar for the weekend, and would only be back on Sunday evening.

Her two older brothers, Roy and Derek, were not back from work yet, not that she expected them because they would usually go straight to the pub, or a friend’s house. It was Friday night after all, and their parents weren’t there to arrange their weekend. How she wished they could be a real family. She loved her brothers, but living at home kept them apart and they did not spend time together.

It was not unfamiliar to Anabella to be on her own on a weekend. If her parents were there, they didn’t speak to her anyway, because they would be busy entertaining their friends. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

A long time ago, Anabella had decided not to be part of their lifestyle and because of this, there was no relationship between them. She had learned to distance herself, choosing to rather throw her time and energy into her sport. At first, it was a way out of the house. Now it had become her life; a life she appreciated and cherished.

She had the shower all to herself for as long as she wanted.

Once in her room, she got dressed, brushing her hair until it shone. Music played softly from the radio and she sang along with the well-known song.

Suddenly her cell phone rang, disturbing the stillness, but she smiled. The Caller ID showed it was her best friend, Monica. Of all her friends, she was closest to her, and was the heart of the group with her sparkling personality; always busy arranging parties or schemes, especially where boys were concerned.

Anabella trusted her as she was the only one who knew what was really going on at her house. Not that she ever allowed her to come over. For that, she was too ashamed, but she knew enough and was always close. When things got really bad, she could always turn to her. Although Monica was a cheerful person and looked like a ‘dumb blond’, she had shown maturity in a lot of things over the years, something that was not well known in their group.

“Hi, Moni.”

“Hi, Bell! You in the mood for a party at my house tonight?”

She could hear Monica was excited―almost out of breath because of it―and she could see her, as if she was standing right in front of her. However, Anabella did need to rest. Her muscles were still stiff after the practice.

“Not tonight, Moni, I really need to rest. Tomorrow is a big day and I must be in top form,” she said with a sigh, smiling because of her friend’s anxiousness.

“Please, Bell, do come, please, even if it is only for an hour or so.” Monica sounded very eager, almost desperate.

What was she up to again? “Moni, I can’t come, please understand.”

“Bell, pretty please, a hunk of a guy is here, a friend of my brother’s, and I want you to meet him. Please come.”

In the background, Anabella could hear a shout, as if someone was screaming at her.

“Please, Bell!” It was Monica’s brother, Tim. He was twelve years older than they were and a lawyer, working for a well-known law firm in the city. Again he shouted in a deep voice, laughing, “Please, Bell, come!”

Anabella smiled at this and then said, “All right, Moni, but only for an hour. I do need to have a good night’s rest.” Reluctantly, she gave in. She knew her friend would not stop until she said yes. Her friend’s family was like a real family to her. Over the years, she had learned what it was like to have parents, and many times she would find herself crying afterward, longing for parents like theirs.

“Great. I expect you at seven, and you can leave at nine. Will that be early enough?” There was relief in her voice.

“Yes, that’ll be fine. Thanks for the invite. See you later.”

With an hour to spare, she stood in front of her closet. She took out a light, cream-colored winter dress with three-quarter-length sleeves. It fell to just above her knees. There was still a chill in the air this late in September and she didn’t want to be cold. Long, dark-brown boots completed her outfit. Her long, straight, dark-brown hair hung loose over her shoulders. Even after the winter, she’d kept her tan, which was noticeable on her face, knees and forearms.

She left the house at ten to seven as Monica only lived fifteen blocks from her. It was already dark outside, and stars dotted the sky. A light breeze ruffled through her hair but it wasn’t freezing, which she was glad about. It had been a long time since she had seen her friends, and maybe it would be good to see them all again. She got into her silver Renault Clio, a gift from her parents on her eighteenth birthday. To say she had been stunned to find the car parked in the driveway the morning of her birthday would have been putting it mildly. She had not seen either of them for almost a week, so Roy and Derek handed her the keys.

She’d spent a great morning with them, driving them to the nearest Mugg and Bean, enjoying breakfast together. Like ordinary young people, they laughed about silly stuff. No one mentioned the always absent parents. They had spent the previous night with friends and didn’t return home until two days later. It was good to hear her brothers laugh and be the young handsome men they were. Normality was not a word which described them, but on that day they had come very close to it. They even took a few photos together, which had been framed and now hung in her room. They reminded her that if they tried hard enough, they could be a regular, happy family, the one thing she craved the most.

She had an air of confidence about her, but at the same time she was very humble and shy. Through life’s trials, she had learned not to boast in her own abilities but to stay in the background and do her own thing. She had been forced to learn to stand on her own two feet, and not depend on her parents. They never cared, or were interested in her life. Although they took great care of her material needs, they emotionally distanced themselves, which bordered on abuse. Their own life and lifestyle was all that mattered to them. Her brothers would protect her at times but only to some degree, before they would leave her alone to fight or fend for herself. She loved her brothers, and she knew there were a lot of sacrifices they had to make to adjust to their parents’ way of life, but she could never pay that price.

Her innocence was precious to her. It was a significant issue, or rather an embarrassment to them, especially her mother. They thought she was uptight. She was always proud of the fact that she could still be a lady, watching Mrs. Richter, who played a huge role in her life. Her example of grace and humbleness was the measure of a woman, which made Anabella determined to be similar. She wanted to be graceful, elegant and have respect for herself, with a husband who would adore her. From teachers and classmates she only received respect and admiration.

In less than two months, she would complete her schooling. She looked forward to the following year as she would be attending the University of Cape Town where she would study physiotherapy, with her main focus in sports. She had always loved sports; there wasn’t one she had not tried at one time or another. She liked the commitment, the discipline it brought into her life, and the joy of competing. When competing in a team sport or as an individual, she felt that she was accepted for who she was as a person. In the beginning, it was a way to escape her home life, but now it had become her lifestyle.

 


Title: Blood Mines. 

$0.99c in Kindle.

Genre: Futuristic Suspence Romance

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Dreame / RingdomBanes & Noble Kobo 

Ns. Skrywershuis  / Paperback 

 

To add to your TBR list on Goodreads

 

 Blurb

Tanya’s life was turned upside down when her son, Steve was attacked by renegades and she had to dig deep facing her worst fear to save them both.

It is the year 2048, 30 years after a devastating quake had changed Gauteng’s geographic features. The effects of the acid water, that covered most of the area, was visible to everyone but the government. The silent death crawling closer leaving devastation in its path. Nothing is excluded from the terror.

Tanya and Steve’s path of survival meet up with the rebels in their search for clean water and she had to face much more than just acid water to stay alive.

A thrilling story of courage and survival.

Photo by Leeloo Thefirst


Excerpt

Panic gripped her throat, her heart pounding in her ears the moment the dark surface closed over her head; the sudden coldness drenching every pore of her skin didn’t help her situation. She struggled to fight the torrent of emotions that flooded over her, while simultaneously realizing she had to relax in order to break through the surface. She had to free herself from the icy grip that threatened to overwhelm her at any second. She had never experienced such coldness before: Such a heaviness that pierced her right to her bones. She knew she was in morbid danger as the darkness pulled her down, even deeper into the murky water. She was scared shitless, her mind spinning as she struggled with another surge of terror as water rushed into her mouth. Belatedly, she pressed her lips together.

She desperately wanted to cough, but suppressed the urge ─ she couldn’t give in. She had to keep the precious air in her lungs for as long as she could. ‘Don’t panic,’ she encouraged herself. She couldn’t afford to open her mouth, not now.

She was too young to die. She wanted to live!  

These thoughts kept on hammering through her as she trampled water, trying to find her footing on a solid base; her arms flailing in the hope to grasp a strong lifeline. Her chest was burning. It demanded air. It wanted to breathe. She kicked hard, but it felt futile. The pull of the darkness was incessant; it wanted to drag her down deeper. There was no sun, no evidence of light, just this thick blackness that enveloped everything around her. She was in danger!

Then, unexpectedly, vice-like arms clamped around her body and her head broke through the surface of the water so quickly that it shocked her system like a jolt of electricity directly to her heart. She sputtered and coughed all at once before she opened her eyes in slits. As if in a haze, she saw a most welcome face.

Uncle Jack looked at her with his big, scary eyes, his face pale as he gazed at her. Drenched himself, he held her in his arms and she wrapped her arms around his thick neck, crying hysterically while he patted her back, all the while trying to calm her down. It felt like she was on fire. Everything burnt. She coughed a few times, trying to focus on anything that brought light. The haze disappeared with each blink.

Her dad was beside her the moment they stepped back on solid ground. She could feel his presence close to her. Out of breath, troubled, he asked, “Are you okay, sweetie pie? Please talk to me.”

She nodded in acknowledgement as she slipped into his warm embrace, nestling into his neck searching for more warmth and safety. The way she always did when she was in Daddy’s arms. His burly chest wide and comfortable; she could always lay her head down on his shoulder finding comfort there.

“Oh, honey, are you okay?” Mommy asked so close to Tanya that she could feel her warm breath heating her wet cheek.

“Get something warm to wrap her in!” Uncle Jack bellowed. The next moment Dad and Tanya were swaddled into a blanket. She still coughed, her lungs burning with the effort of inhaling and exhaling.

“Here, let her drink this,” Granddad said, also close by. His gruff voice unmistakably from years of chain-smoking cigarettes.

“Dad, that’s brandy. I cannot give her ten-year-old brandy.” Mom uttered, aggravated by Granddad’s suggestion.

“Oh, hogwash, nothing can happen to her, she needs to get warm immediately, and brandy is the best source of heat right now.”

With that, a glass was held in front of Tanya’s shivering lips and tepid liquid ran down her throat. She coughed from the sudden burn but gulped it down. Not that she knew what brandy was but at that moment it warmed her body, which was all she cared about, soothing the burning cough at the same time.

She shook uncontrollably, even inside her cosy nest. She knew it was partially because of winter: It was in the middle of August after all. But, mostly it was because of the big fright she had. That fear would stay with her forever.

Tanya knew it would be a bad idea to listen to Etienne from the start when he told her that they should rescue the frog before it died in the icy water. He knew about her love for animals and that she would never let the opportunity slip pass to help a defenceless creature. Now, after the experience, she knew that the frog had been content where it was, sitting on the balmy rock, toasting itself in the midday heat. It was in no need to be rescued by her. It was her first real lesson about deceitfulness and Tanya knew she lost a little bit of a child’s ignorance on that day ─ not knowing of all the lessons she would learn through her life yet. 

Dad was stroking her back with his large, rough hands and her muscles relaxed methodically. She knew she was safe. In those few seconds, she thought she was about to die, it was a terrible feeling: The feeling of total helplessness and having lost control. Tanya never wanted to feel like that ever again.

“Let’s get her to the hospital.” Mom said as she rushed towards the truck that had parked not too far from the river.

“That’s not necessary, Estelle!” shouted Granddad, “She only had a scare, no need for the doctor.”

“Dad, she has to go for a check-up, you



know how much filth is in the water…”

“Oh, be quiet. My word, the kid was in the water for barely a minute. She will be fine.” Granddad said, stopping her mom from a further flow of words.

“Take her home, run her a warm bath and let her rest, that’s the best medicine for her now.” He commanded in his usual stoic manner and with that, he dismissed any further arguments from her.



Titel: GedagteKringe. 

Gratis op Kindle.

Genre: Afrikaanse Bundel met die kunswerke van Linda Rossouw.

Koop skakels

 

Voeg by jou leeslysie op Goodreads.


 

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Oorsig

Gedagtekringe is ‘n versameling stories, staaltjies, rubrieke en motiveringsartikels. Hier is iets vir elke leser: jonk en oud om te geniet.

Dit sluit in 16 fiktiewe stories wat insluit verhale van verlore liefdes, ‘n nuwe begin, speurstories, ‘n drama, ‘n fantasie, om jou drome te volg en gril stories. Die ses nie-fiktiewe verhale gaan meestal oor my belewenisse, my famile en tong-in-die-kies staaltjies. Ses motiverings artikels is ook geplaas. Sommige is my sienings vasgelê in die wêreld om my. Laastens sluit ek af met vier rubrieke. Nuusbrokkies wat my diep geraak het die laaste paar jaar.

 

Inhoudsopgawe

FIKSIE_ 18

Eietydse Romanse_ 18

Hart's Kiekies 18

Die Man Met Die Swart Skoene_ 30

'n Waagstuk Van Liefde_ 38

Literêre Verhale_ 54

Ithuba, 'n Tweede Kans 54

Ek Is Marieta_ 68

Oupa, Waar Kom Babas Vandaan?_ 73

Opsoek Na Stilte_ 119

Moles By Die Rugbyklub_ 125

Die Stukkende Windpomp Op Hermansdrif 129

Ander Verhale_ 139

'n Moderne Rooikappiestorie - Fantasie Verhaal 139

Die Geheim In Die Houtkas 145

Misteriese Verhaal 145

Begrafnis Op Reddersburg_ 153

Moord Op Duiwelslaagte_ 162

Rillers 172

'n Pop Vir Elma_ 172

Bekende Dokter Laat 'n Bloedspoor Agter 176

Stilswye Wat Byt 182

NIE-FIKSIE_ 194

My Erfenis: My Pot Goud Aan Die Einde Van Die Reënboog  194

Krag Vir Kanoneiland_ 204

Salt En Pepper, 'n Liefde Storie Wat Jou Weer Laat Glo_ 211

'n Skets Oor Passie_ 218

‘n Dag Saam Met Die Afgetredenes 220

MOTIVERING_ 227

Paaie_ 227

Hoe Lyk Jou Voetspore?_ 232

Hekke_ 237

Ons Liefde Vir Reekse_ 240

Toewydingskets 244

ARTIKELS_ 249

Dood, Waar Is Jou Angel?_ 249

Die Verlore Dogter Kom Huis Toe_ 255

Die Ander Vrou_ 260

 

 

Titel: Juweel van die Oosgrens. $0.99c op Kindle.

Genre – Geskiedkundige roman

 

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Die mengsel van tale het ʼn groot rol gespeel in die skepping van die taal wat ons vandag ken. Afrikaans is gevorm in die warm kombuise en wye vlaktes van ons mooi land en het vir vele interessante oomblikke gesorg.

1815 is gekenmerk deur aanpassings, afstande en onluste. In die midde hiervan het Celeste Reyneke geleef. Op haar agtiende verjaarsdag verander haar lewe dramaties en eindig op in ‘n gerieflikheidshuwelik. Twee jaar later moet sy die wêreld weer alleen in die gesig staar en beland op die Oosgrens. Die tweejaar-lange huwelik was alles behalwe maanskyn en rose en eindig traumaties. Ontnugterd volg sy die pad die binneland in.

Celeste het grootgeword in die Kaap van Storms met ʼn oop gemoed en lus vir die lewe. Sy kon lees en skryf en het ʼn ‘beroep’ gehad. Vir haar het dit natuurlik gekom om die tyd en reëls te verander soos wat die geleentheid hom voorgedoen het. Haar unieke talente kom dadelik op die voorgrond en gou besef mense sy is ʼn aanwins vir die gemeenskap. Maar sy het ook die koppe laat draai. Met die tekort aan vroue en haar natuurlike skoonheid trek sy die aandag.

Barend Olivier, die toonbeeld van manlikheid en dapperheid, is op soek na ʼn vrou wat sal aanpas by sy lewe aan die Oosgrens. Tydens ʼn tweeweke-lange patrollie leer die twee mekaar ken. Maar die pad is lank, warm en rof en ʼn man kan net so lank van ʼn aantreklike vrou af wegbly voor die fisiese begeertes oorneem. Sal hulle betyds ʼn prediker kan vind?

Die belangrikste vraag is: Sal Celeste hom toelaat om haar lief te hê?

Ek nooi jou om saam met my op hierdie reis te gaan en nie net die spanning van hierdie tydperk te ervaar nie, maar ook die romanse te vind in die grasvlaktes van ons mooi land.

 

Uittreksel

Ingedagte haal Celeste haar enigste ander rok uit, skud dit goed uit om van al die kreukels ontslae te raak en trek dit aan. Die swart rok sal vandag gewas moet word. Haar enigste ander stel klere sal sy bêre vir wanneer sy weer op die plaas moet werk. Dit is heel onkonvensioneel; en hoe haar nig daaroor sou voel kan sy net raai, maar dit was ʼn gesprek vir later. Vandag wil sy net die familie geniet en rus.

Die wye vlaktes trek haar magneties nader en vra om verken te word soos sy en Pappa dit altyd gedoen het. Hy sou hierdie area deurkruis het, nie net om van diens te wees nie, maar ook om sy eie nuuskierigheid te bevredig. Die oostelike grens is ongetem en min mense het dit al hul tuiste gemaak. Die gevare, die eensaamheid en die groot afstande tussen die boere was van die probleme wat die mense daagliks in die gesig moes staar. Die konstante aanvalle en gevegte tussen die boere en Xhosas het die probleme verder verhoog.

Miskien is dit presies wat sy nou nodig het. ʼn Uitdaging om haar uit hierdie bitterheid wat sy tuiste in haar gemaak het, los te breek en aan te gaan met haar lewe. Met haar hare weer netjies vasgevang in ʼn rol, is sy gereed om die familie te ontmoet. Met ʼn laaste kyk na haar beeld in die spieël knik sy tevrede na haar beeld. Haar rok was eens op ʼn tyd ʼn diepblou kleur, maar het mettertyd verbleik in die skroeiende son. Daardie tyd is egter nou verby - hoop sy. Die spierwit kant vertoon darem nog mooi en versag haar nek en arms. Mamma het dit nog kort voor haar dood gemaak.

"Tu me manques, chère maman et papa (Ek mis julle…,)," fluister sy verlangend.

Die vrolike stemme van die seuns lok haar uit haar somber gedagtes en ʼn glimlag versag haar gesigsuitdrukking. Hierdie familie is goed vir my denke. Hul opgewondenheid ontketen ʼn bruising van lewe wat ek nie wil keer nie.

Onmiddellik stap sy die kombuis binne. Fleur staan naby die vuurherd terwyl sy in ʼn swart pot roer wat met ʼn haak vanuit die vuurherd se dak hang. Met haar linkerhand hou sy haar rug vas. Die rok se bruin materiaal is verbleik, maar getuig van goeie versorging. Die verstellings getuig dat Fleur heelwat gewig aangesit het vandat dit oorspronklik gemaak is. Die bultende maag trek die soom op en ʼn paar bruin stewels steek onder uit. Haar hare is ook weer netjies vasgevang en die paar krulle gee haar ʼn sagte moederlike voorkoms … die toonbeeld van vrouwees.

Die plek is bedompig, selfs met die oop kombuisdeur help dit nie veel nie. Die twee seuns staan langs die geelhouttafel met hul rûe na haar gekeer. Toe hulle haar voetstappe hoor, draai hulle dadelik om.

"Celeste, kom in. Voel jy beter?" vra Fleur glimlaggend. Sy lyk ongemaklik. ʼn Onnatuurlike blos veroorsaak deur die hitte, laat haar uitasem.

Hierdie vrou is nader aan geboorte as wat sy aanvanklik gedink het, dink Celeste bekommerd.

"Ja, dankie Chéri, die bad was net wat ek nodig gehad het. Ek voel sommer weer lus vir die lewe," antwoord sy spontaan. Selfbewus gly haar hande oor haar rok. Fleur gee haar ʼn drukkie en draai dan na die twee seuns wat haar stilswyend met verleë gesiggies betrag.

"Robert en Nico, dit is Tante Celeste. Ek het al baie oor haar gesels, onthou julle?" Hulle knik met hul koppies. "Sy gaan van nou af by ons bly."

Robert is die oudste en duidelik die dapperste toe hy eerste antwoord: "Hallo, Tante Celeste, ik es bly om jou te ontmoet."

"Hallo, Robert, ek is net so bly om jou te ontmoet," antwoord sy glimlaggend. Sy kniel langs die twee en gee Robert ʼn stywe drukkie. Nico staan terug en staar haar oopmond aan. Celeste besluit om hom eerste te groet. "Hallo, Nico, aangename kennis, Monsieur." Skamerig druk hy homself agter sy broer in sonder enige woord of glimlag. Celeste kan nie help om dadelik van die twee te hou nie. Intense blou oë staar na haar vanuit hul sproetgesiggies.

"Hoe oud is jy, Robert?"

"Ek esth vyfth en my broer esth drieth," lispel hy kordaat en onmiddellik steek klein Nico drie vingers in die lug.

"Hy praath ni met vreemdelinge ni," verduidelik Robert skamerig.

"Robert, jou maniere," onderbreek Fleur hulle, maar Celeste skerm gou.

"Wel, môreoggend sal ek nie meer ʼn vreemdeling wees nie. Sal julle my wil help om gemmerkoekmannetjies te bak as dit reg is met Mamma?"

"Kan onse mummie, kan onse ssebliefth?" vra albei gelyktydig en kyk na hul ma met verlangende ogies.

"Natuurlik kan julle, Chéri, maar nou is dit tyd vir julle bad. Kom seuns." Fleur vryf haar rug terwyl sy uitstap, stop by die deur en draai dan weer om. "Ek is nou weer terug, maak jouself tuis. Die koffie is reg, jy kan net ingooi. Dit is heerlik koel buite, sien jou nou weer."

"Merci, Fleur."

Die swart koffiekan en porselein koppies staan netjies op die tafel gerangskik by ʼn bypassende suikerpot en melkbekertjie. Die reuk van stomende koffie prikkel haar neus en sy skink vir haarself ʼn koppie vol. Die melk is sommer dik van die room en ʼn geel lagie dryf onmiddellik na bo. Sy roer dit vinnig en stap dan uit op die stoep. Die son is besig om weg te sak oor die kim, verstrengel in ryk kleure van amber, oranje en brons. Sy neem plaas op een van die riempiestoele en vat die eerste sluk. Soos blits spoeg sy dit uit. Die inhoud is só sterk dat sy dit eenvoudig nie kan inkry nie. Dan lag sy, kyk om haar rond en smyt die res van die koffie by een van die plante in. Met al Fleur se goeie eienskappe kon sy net nog nooit ʼn goeie koppie koffie maak nie.

Terug in die kombuis maak sy seker dat haar niggie nie in die gang afkom nie. Aan ʼn ander haak hang ʼn ketel met genoeg kookwater in. Vinnig gooi sy van die koffie in die kan uit en gooi nog water by. Met ʼn vinnige roer herhaal sy weer die proses. Sy gooi ʼn bietjie in die beker en vat ʼn sluk. Baie beter, dink sy behaaglik.

Hierdie keer stap sy uit en volg die paadjie in die rigting van die buitegeboue. Aldert is ʼn georganiseerde man, dink sy waarderend. In teenstelling met Darius is sy plek goed versorg en netjies. Verderweg merk sy ʼn mensgemaakte dam op en stap soontoe. Die omliggende veld is ruig wat bydra tot die omgewing se rustigheid, die ligte ritsel ʼn welkomende klank wat haar gemoed streel. Fleur het juis genoem dat hulle goeie reëns gehad het. Die aarde ruik vars en skoon. Geel wilde blomme pryk oral rondom haar en vul die lug met hul geur. Aan die agterkant van die dam staan groot bome al swyend in die ligte bries. Die gebulk van beeste vul die lug en sy klap ʼn halstarrige vlieg weg. Die gesnork van ʼn perd laat haar verder kyk.

Dit is waarlik ʼn pragtige plek, so anders as die plaas waar sy vandaan kom. As dit nie was vir haar en die volk nie, sou dit steeds onbewerk gebly het. Hoekom Darius ooit die grond gekry het weet sy nie. Hier op Môregloed is dit duidelik dat dinge mooi loop. Die dam is vol en die leivoor wat sorg vir die dam se inloop, is skoon geskoffel. Met ʼn sug van genoegdoening speel sy met die lafenis. Die koelheid op haar vel voel verfrissend en Celeste se lippe sprei weer in ʼn mooi glimlag. Die voëls se gesang verhoog die kalmte en vul haar met vrede.

Toe die eetklokkie se geluid haar bereik stap sy vinnig terug na die huis.

 


Title: Love at War. $2.99c in Kindle.

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Part one / Part two


Blurb

Their enemies tried to outsmart them. Obedience their only defence.

Whisked to picturesque Valletta, a lonely nurse met her soul connection. It set the bar in a stirring plot of spiritual and physical survival as a determined warlord in Africa and a cunning wife in America trapped them. The healing sands of Iraq, their only hope.

Passionate about her work, war-torn South Sudan offered Sonia Main peace. When a man from her past confronted her, she had a choice to make. A choice that would influence her life.

Could Sonia let go of the past? Would her dreams continue to haunt her? Or would the warm sun of Africa burn away her fears?

Curt McGee was a man bound by honour and duty. It took him away from home for long periods of time.

Caught in infidelity, Curt's wife left him stunned. His children prey to an unthinkable enemy.

Would he get beyond his wife's betrayal?

Could he save his children?

Co-workers booked a flight for each to enjoy a weekend in Malta. It offered tranquillity and peace to weary souls.

Two worlds connect, and the result would change them both for eternity.

Love confronted them, not to be denied. But time played a trick and demanded a price. A price that would strip them of everything before they could experience the joy of a future.

Obedience was better than sacrifice, revealed the Holy Book. Would they yield or follow their own way?

They couldn’t run or hide from the onslaught. Their enemies' attacks growing in intensity. Crafty tricks added to the confusion, their fears real. It stripped them of their hopes and dreams. They could only go one way.

When Tau Gbadamosi met Sonia, he had a tough time understanding his feelings. War ravished his country. The enormous plight for help too great for one man or one fight. Faced with loyalty, he had to decide. Would he fail the test?

Africa's hopes and dreams burned brightly in the harsh sun. Poverty and lack the driving force for many ‘do-gooders’. But when a warlord sets his sight on the Red Cross nurse, all hell broke loose. No one could stand in his way.

Only God could stop him.

abduction, rape, abuse, military, adventure, love story, reproductive rights

Not for sensitive readers. Suggested age range 16+


Excerpt #1

IRAQI DESERT, MARCH 2019.

SHOCKED HE STARED AT THE EXPLICIT PHOTOS.

Excessive perspiration dripped from him, unnoticed. The boiling heat; airless.

His attention arrested with the terrible images engraved in his mind. The betrayal left him in utter devastation.

Before long, uncontrollable hatred replaced the shock as he tossed them in the corner. It connected with a filing cabinet with a thud.

His marriage was a farce!

Vile tasting disbelief infiltrated his mouth. Balling fists pressed against the desk; his vision blurred. Automatically his fingers massaged his temples and pinched himself.

His lovely wife of twenty-five years. How could she? He had been home in February when they celebrated it, and now this.

He picked up the crumbled pictures and straightened them. The digital date and time on each caught his scrutiny—captured adequately over four years—the last one the day he left. Her track of deceit adequately defined in each emotion and position.

It joined the rest of the discarded pack. His personal world had tilted in seconds: from virtuous to depraved in a heartbeat.

The uncomfortable silence stifled the office and chairs moved. Colonel Curt McGee avoided the staff, disgraced.

He swiped the images from the table and collapsed back into his seat. Anger tightened his jaw which framed the day-old stubble.

"Sir, is everything okay?" Curt looked at his aid, speechless.

How could she? We made love that last day. We assured each other of our devotion. I was the luckiest husband on earth. The next night she was back in her lover's arms and by the roguish looks, enjoying herself.

"I'm going for a walk!" 

 

"YES, SIR!" THE COLONEL'S normal straight shoulders slumped; the long strides weaker.

Doug regarded the coloured prints with unease. The woman was in an appealing encounter. Buck naked, the guy pounded into her. Her hips held in a fierce grip. She was a looker.

Footsteps on gravel propelled him into action and jumbled them together, shoved it back into the large envelope marked in bold letters: Colonel Curt McGee. He then placed it in the desk's drawer.

He straightened as Sergeant First Class Ralph entered the office. A deep frown creased his rugged face. He glanced through the workplace.

"Is the colonel here?" the stern voice thundered. His DNA formed with military precision. The broad shoulders and perfect stance brooked no-nonsense.

Doug saluted him and the moment he acknowledged him, he relaxed.

"Just stepped out, Sir."

 

CURT WALKED TO THE FURTHEST end of the camp. How could she? Sand drifted into the warm air. And with that person? More sand floated upwards. Out of breath he glanced around, his throat parched.

A jeep pulled up and he waved the soldier closer. The private saluted, but he demanded the keys with a careless gesture. He jumped in and stepped on the accelerator. The engine roared into action as it left the camp in a dust trail.

"That bitch!" he groaned, banging the steering wheel, with tears evaporating in the drive.

Fifteen minutes later Curt stopped at the local tearoom, the owner a well-known patron of the town. Usually Curt refused his subtle offerings, but today he wanted to forget.

Once inside he removed his shades. It took a few seconds to adjust to the dimness.

Elaborated carpets, curtains and cushions divided the room into sections. The cosy place was a favourite amongst the military staff. Satisfied that he had the place to himself, he relaxed. The owner manned the battered counter to the right of him.

 


Excerpt #2

"MR MCGEE?" A GREY, HALOED MAN GREETED HIM. Curt lowered his sunglasses and nodded.

"Follow me, please."

"Sure," he responded with light-heartedness. Ever since the trip began, he forced himself to think happy thoughts. The dark that hardened him left at the compound.

With excitement he had studied the brochures on the flight. Streets stretched in straight lanes along Valletta. From the air it looked like an architectural artwork. The palace with its golden roof blazed in the rising sun whilst sail ships cruised the coastline. Others moored in various marinas along the coastline—the main marina, the Grand Harbour, vexed in time were cluttered with colour. The brochures described it accurately.

The White SUV waited outside the terminal with the Grand Excelsior Hotel emblem in big bold gold prints. Curt placed his bag at the back. Inside the cab the guide introduced himself: "My name is Armanno," and proffered a chubby hand.

"Please to meet you, Armanno. Call me Curt." As he pulled into the traffic Armanno pointed out distinctive landmarks, his enthusiasm tangible.

"Where did it all start?" Curt's curiosity peaked.

"It goes back to the 16th Century. During the crusade period."

"That long back?"

"Malta has a proud history. We are the smallest capital city in the European Union. In 1813 we became a British colony and served as a way station for ships. We were an important Allied base for the North Africa and Mediterranean operations. We received our independence in 1964 and became a Republic in 1974. Our history includes the Ottoman invasion. You will find noteworthy museums here. They showcase the relics of each period."

"I never knew it's importance and the vital role it played in history. The museums are on my itinerary for the weekend," Curt promised.

"You will not be disappointed. There is always something new to discover."

They followed Route 6. The landscape changed from city to country. At a circle Armanno turned left. They continued with Triq Vincenzo Dimech road. Minutes later they entered another dense region. The imposing wall of the fortified city in view declared a World Heritage centre. It attracted visitors across the globe.

At the hotel the entrance caught Curt's attention. The circular garden boasted with two fountains. Small decorative trees lined the pathway and three limestone arches completed it. At the zebra crossing they entered the coolness of the shade. Impressive glass doors invited them inside. A serene atmosphere filtered through the marble entrance.

Tourists took pictures, fascinated with the surroundings. His attention drifted upwards. The crystal chandelier stressed the enormity of the place and gave it an elegant superiority. They stopped at the mahogany desk. Next to it a marble horse and boy stood hip high, the craftsmanship precise.

A young, soft-spoken Italian supplied him his card. "Gracias," he thanked her.

Armanno wished him well and left him in the care of a younger man. The bellboy stepped forward. "Can I carry your bag, Sir?"

"No thanks." The bellboy bowed slightly and led the way.

"This way, Sir."

Classical music played inside the lift. Mirror covered walls reflected a tired image, an image he planned to rectify.

The doors opened on the second floor. A whiff of spices accosted him at the door. He missed the brunette by millimetres as she stepped in. The smallest of smiles transformed the youthful face. A glimpse of emerald eyes met his. Then she disappeared.

"What a sight," he sighed and smiled.

"Did you say something, Sir?"

"No."

At his door the bell boy produced the card and opened it. The large canvas of translucent aqua left him breathless. From the balcony the amoeba-shaped pool gleamed like polished crystal. The cool wetness offered relaxation.

"I hope you find this satisfactory?"

"Yes," he answered, handing the bellboy a euro bill. He returned to the panoramic view and filled his lungs with the ocean breeze. Next to the fountain colourful umbrellas dotted the pool. Guests relaxed on deck chairs.

About to turn, the brunette re-appeared, her green sarong swayed with her. One tanned leg revealed itself cheekily with each step. From his advantage point he appreciated the perfect curves, the delicate shoulders of the slender body. At a deck chair she removed her sunglasses and let the material slip.


Photo by Art Guzman:

Excerpt # 3

OPERATION GRAY MOSQUITO played a big part in Staff Sergeant Brock Castledale's life. Not because of the operation, or the dead men, but for the woman he met. Her sparkling green eyes and red hair enchanted him.

The relationship with Anna was over. Earlier he demanded his normal fix which resulted in him having his way. Ultimately it also caused the breakup. He had enough of her come-ons just to stop midway. Now she was pulling at his arms as tears messed up her mascara.

"Will you shut up about this!" He stretched his height and pulled on his clothing.

"Please do not go, Brock!"

"I had enough." He shook her like a rag doll. Opening the door he did not give her a second look. He was sick of her games. She simply could not make up her mind about sex. She knew what he liked and the way he liked it. He would not change—for no one. Why this constant refusal he did not understand, but he had enough.

 

ANNA'S HEART SHATTERED; her love choked the life out of the relationship. Once the door closed, she fell in a heap.

You are pitiful. You deserve this. You act like a cheap bimbo, she loathed herself.

Her love for this man made her blind, but she could not commit to the sickness any longer.

All she wanted was to be in a normal, romantic love relationship where the hero would whisk her away and treat her like a princess. He would make love to her and adore her. Not like this.

Brock was not that man.

 

ON THE WAY BACK TO BASE CAMP, CASTLEDALE looked closely to his travel buddies. It was then that he noticed the pair of light green eyes again. The soldier's helmet moved back and revealed a redhead. She smiled at him and he returned the gesture. Her name tag revealed her identity. He grinned. Corporal Ellis.

That afternoon he laid eyes on her at the bush pub; and that night he introduced himself in the only way he was comfortable with.

At the tearoom she brushed against him. Mischievous eyes chuckled at his delight. His body reacted, his heart jumped and watched her interaction with every man. For the first time in his life jealousy tucked at his heart and clenched his jaw tight. The emotions so foreign to him he did not understand it.

Later she sauntered to the lady's room and he followed. When she stepped out he grabbed her hand and made way for the exit, his need and want fuelled by his emotions.

He was not even aware that she did not put up a fight. She had her sights on him for a long time. The glee of victory coursed through her when she followed him. Outside he pushed her into the wall.

"How did I miss you?" She was the most delicious thing he had ever seen.

"What is the matter, Staff Sergeant?" Her light green eyes twinkled.

"You have neglected your duties," he said in a seductive tone.

"And what duties will that be, Staff Sergeant?"

"To please your staff sergeant." He pushed his body into hers, the message clear.

She smiled. "How can I please you?" She batted her whimpers and he grinned. Lowering himself he whispered his requirements to her.

She did not flinch or shrieked in fear. She encouraged it. Taking his hand she brought it to her mouth. Her eyes teased him as the first digit vanished in her mouth.

"Your wish is my command, Sir," and he chuckled. She was beautiful.

"I know a place close by," he whispered, his body strained against the confines of his khaki.

"I know the place, Staff Sergeant."

He grinned and captured her mouth as a starved man. She melted against him. It was in those moments he lost his heart.

 

ANNA GREETED ELLIS ABSENTLY THE NEXT MORNING. Her attention was not on her work. She still punished herself for being so clinging, but she missed him. Though the relationship was not at all what she envisioned, she struggled to move on. Was she foolish to walk away? Her thoughts in a jumble about the breakup and abuse. Her brain told her it was the right thing to do, but her heart protested. She had to focus on her work, turning her attention to the taller woman.

"Is everything well?" Anna asked the redhead. It was time for Ellis's physical, and it was part of Anna's duties. She took her weight and referred to the chart. "You had lost weight."

"Yes, Nurse." The corporal flinched as she touched her arm.

"What is the matter with your arm?"

"Nothing a workout would not fix, Ma'am."

"Please remove your clothing," Anna commanded and gasped at the bruises on her. She turned her and noticed the bruises extended to her chest and neck as if squeezed tightly.

"Were you in combat?

"Sure, was Ma'am. I sure am going to repeat the combat soon."

"Do you need pain killers?"

"No, Ma'am. I have some with me if it gets unbearable."

"Please look after yourself. You are still a woman," Anna reminded her with concern.

"Yes Ma'am, but I like to play with the boys." She grinned. "To get hurt is expected. It's all part of the game."

"Just remember to look after yourself. Don't take unnecessary risks."

Anna studied her thoughtfully. The bruises looked familiar, as if she had seen them before. At Anna's desk Ellis replied: "Yes, Ma'am."

Anna noted everything in her file.

"We good?" Ellis asked.

"Be careful out there," Anna advised.

Staff Sergeant Castledale appeared in the entrance and she smiled brightly. But his attention was not on her, but with Ellis. It left her dumbfounded. Why was he here and did he know Ellis?

He walked towards Anna and gave her a lopsided grin. "Hi there, gorgeous," he said softly, brushing her cheek with a thump. She believed him … almost. Something was off. Even Ellis looked confused before she left.

"Do you know Corporal Ellis?"

"Of course, I know her, Anna," and plopped on a seat. "We work together."

"Yes, I know."

"But…"

"Please do not start with your jealousy. I am here and I came for a visit with my girl." He stopped her protest and she smirked. She did not expect to see him, not after the last fight. He almost looked normal as he used to be. When he returned her smile, her knees buckled and she took a seat.

"I see I still have the desired effect on you."

She blushed. Every time he came closer, she forgot all reason and gave him her undivided attention. He still made her knees weak, her heart fluttering with his touch. She could not help herself.

Nonetheless, the nagging thoughts lingered during the visit. He was jovial and full of playful jokes. His big hands speaking with her, but they could be brutal and then it struck her. The bruises of Corporal Ellis too familiar to forget. She had seen them before. Her own body the replica of his rough play.

Deep in thought she did her work for the rest of the day. She could not ignore the look which passed between Ellis and Brock. It was not a look of colleagues, but of lovers.

Photo by Koshevaya_k:

Excerpt #4

SONIA WAS RELAXING WITH A BOOK that she had found in the pub. The first book in a while when a loud explosion broke the silence. She scrambled out of bed and stood outside as soldiers rushed past her. Walking to the corner of her building she noticed Doug and called him.

"There was an explosion at one of the gas lines and we must check it out. You stay here, Ma'am, and sleep."

"You will let me know if you need help?"

"Yes, Ma'am, go to bed," and he jogged away.

She stretched and got into her bed, crunched the pillow under her and fell asleep.

Suddenly a weight pressed on her. Startled she opened her eyes to feel a warm breath against her face. She could see nothing in the darkness, the sliver of moonlight not enough to identify her attacker. Pushing with all her might the man laughed wickedly. Recognition shot through her and fear captured her breath. The sound from him, ice cold. She shivered uncontrollably.

"You!" she mumbled, her mouth covered with an enormous hand. The sudden intrusion of light left her blind, and she blinked. When she finally focused the fugitive stared at her with a smug grin. Fighting against the hold, he pinned her securely underneath him. The sour smell of liquor confronted her nose.

"You can try as much as you like, but no one will save you. No one is close, not even Doug, and I will have my way just as I imagined it."

She tried to scream, but it did not help. His hand smothered her.

"You will not scream." The sound roared in the room and she kept her mouth shut. He lowered himself until their noses touched. "Understood!" he hissed, and she nodded.

"You learn quickly. Now let me see what we have here." She moaned helplessly, kicking with her legs. When he rolled his eyes in pain, she knew she had kicked a sensitive spot, and he slapped her again. Blood trickled along her lip and smeared her face.

"You bitch," he growled and with one swift move he turned her around and pressed her face into the pillows.

"Please Lord," she whispered with a cry, "not this."

"What the hell!"

"Sam!" She tried to scream, but her head was still in the cushion, curses drowned everything else out. Then the weight lifted.

She pushed herself to turn as a table broke. Sam and Brock were in a tight hold. Sam punched Brock in the gut, which gave him momentarily the upper hand. Followed by a kick Brock fell on the floor; his face hit the cement with a thud. Sam was on top of him, slamming his face into the floor.

"Sam, stop! Stop!" But he did not listen as he pounded into her attacker mercilessly.

The next moment another big body sheltered her vision and slipped her sweater around her shoulders. She shivered, screamed for the person to make it stop as the fight grew in intensity. The room became a pool of confusion as the two men fought. When Sam got the upper hand, he pushed hard against Brock, slamming his head into the cement floor with a sickening thud. Groans of determination mixed with her screams. The entire time she was kept away.

Then silence—like someone had covered her ears with earplugs.

"There now." She recognised Alexi's smoothing accent as he patted her. "It is over." More voices entered her room, and soon she felt a prick in her arm and slept.

How long she was out she could not recall before she woke, startled—unsure of her surroundings, her dream gone.

"Sonia, it's me. You are safe." The same words of her dream were repeated. However, it was not Curt, but Dr Rogers.

"You are safe, Sonia," he whispered, brushing away the tears. She was still in her room covered with a sheet and blanket.

"Staff Sergeant Castledale is gone. It is only us."

She must have fallen asleep, because when she woke it was midday. The sun was streaming into her room and she shoved the covers from her sweaty body. This time she was alone. She sat up straight, reached for the bottled water and took huge gulps of it. The soothing water refreshing to a dry throat.

Her room was wiped from any traces Brock could have left. Numbly she placed her feet on the floor. It all happened so quickly that Sonia was unsure about most of it.

Two raps startled her, and she rose. "Yes?"

"It is us." Alexi and Sam stood with a nurse her own age next to them. She blinked. It could not be, but when she opened them again her friend stood before her.

"Lee Ann!"

"Yes, my darling," the blond replied with a laugh, concern covered the corners of her lush lips.

"When they told me who was attacked, I had to make sure. And here you are, Sonia Main," and the two women hugged each other.

"I guess you two know each other," Sam said dryly, and both women chuckled. Sonia introduced Lee Ann Buys to them.

"We were in nursing school and applied at the Red Cross after we attended a conference. Then we split. This is the first time we see each other in what … fifteen years?"

Lee Ann nodded, "Yes, fifteen years. You have not changed a bit. Just as lovely as ever," and Sonia blushed.

"I can say the same for you."

"You lie and you know it. Look at me, I gained at least five kg since the last time we spoke."

"Well, if you ask me, the five kg sits in perfect places," Sam quipped. Sonia slapped him against the shoulder and Lee Ann blushed.

"Hey, it is true. Skinny women were never attractive," he explained seriously, and Alexi agreed wholeheartedly with a grin.

"Please come in and excuse my friend," Sonia said.

Alexi took the only available chair and Sam and Lee Ann sat on the unmade bed.

"Can someone tell me what happened last night?"

Alexi started. "Sam was here first before he could harm you," and she looked at Sam, who met her gaze.

How will she ever repay this man who came to her aid, twice?

"What happened to him?"

Alexi reached for her hand and held it tight.

"Brock is dead." Alexi's cold answer left her speechless, "What!?"

"The bastard is dead," Sam repeated, his voice equally cold. She

looked at Lee Ann who shrugged her shoulders and then at Alexi.

He nodded and squeezed her hand.

"Tell me what you have done," she whispered, looking at all three.

"Sam was the first one who noticed something was wrong, a sixth sense if you like," and Sam smirked. Killer instinct is the correct term, he thought.

"He asked what if the explosions were a diversion because we were all there, the camp practically unguarded. Doug said he spoke to you and sent you back to bed, and then we ran. Sam kept on saying it did not seem right. He was the first to get back. By the time I reached your room, he was already pounding into the man while you were screaming."

Sonia listened in utter shock. It happened so quickly that she thought she had dreamt it.

"When I finally got him of him, he was unconscious. He died this morning from head wounds."

She looked away, wiping away the tears and then turned back. "Thank you," looking at both men, "I couldn't believe what he tried." 

Sam was facing prosecution, but she did not have to know it, not yet anyway, they all decided.

Sonia turned her attention to Lee Ann. "I can't tell you how good it is to have you here. You are a God sent," Sonia said once settled.

"I don't know about that, Darling, but it is great to finally work with you, for sure," and she chuckled delightfully. Both men grinned.

"Are you up for lunch, because I am starving?"

A low groan emanated from Sam as he stated, "A woman after my heart."

Sonia grinned. "Yes, I believe I am. Just give me a moment to freshen up?"

"Yes, Darling, we will wait outside, right boys," and they nodded.

Sonia shook her head. Alexi and Sam were far from boys. They both towered over them, but sheepishly the two agreed and followed Lee Ann, especially Sam.

When the trio stepped outside, Alexi walked aside to answer a call. It gave Sam the opportunity to speak with Lee Ann.

"So, any man waiting I must be aware of?"

"Boy, but you are blunt," she remarked with a chuckle, her blue eyes meeting him with a mischievous glint.

"Well?" and he chuckled. "No time in wasting," he agreed and raised a brow in question.

"No, there is no man waiting anywhere," she finally admitted.

"It's hard to believe."

"That it is, but still the truth."

"Why, is there something wrong with you?"

She laughed. "I stand under correction. You are plainly rude, Sam Gerber."

"Well?" Sam could not remember the last time a woman fascinated him from the start, and although rude, it was better to get to the heart of it.

"No, nothing is wrong with me. There was just no time for any lasting relationship if you must know."

"I understand," and silence fell between them. Not the awkward kind, but the mutual understanding kind before he said. "Drinks later on?"

"Yes, why not? Then you can show me all the attractions," the meaning clear as she looked at him with appraisal. He chuckled and stepped closer so his hand could brush against the delicate skin of her lower arm, the rest covered under the usual uniform of medical staff.

"I like you, Lee Ann Buys. What kind of surname is it anyway?" he asked in a low tone.

"South African, the origin I believe is Dutch," and she swallowed, the man affecting her more than she cared.

"It suits you," he whispered, his breath warm against her lips, nearly touching her.

"Thank you," she whispered, the electricity intense as sparks lingered between them. Everything else forgotten. Almost.

Just then Sonia appeared in the door and they parted, but the result was still shimmering between them.

Both Sonia and Alexi looked at the couple, stunned, and then grinned. Sam was smitten. They never thought they would see the day that Sam Gerber would lose his heart.


 

 

 

 

 

 


 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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