Saturday, February 23, 2013

Story Saturdays: "I'm not the man you think I am."

Don't forget, Me & Timothy Cooper is now available at Barnes & Noble for Nook readers. This week it reached #13 in Christian Short Stories at Amazon. So awesome! Only $1.49 gets you a copy of your own.

Here's the final excerpt of Love & Redemption. This week I approved the proof. It looks spectacular! In this scene, Ann is recovering from her stomach troubles and Michael has fallen in love.

Can't get enough of this story? Check out all my other posts. Also, check out the book trailer for the first 3 books in the series!

Take a trip into the past and fall in love with an Irishman. 

When Anne awoke it was dark. Crickets sang nearby her head.
“Michael?” she called.
Rapid footsteps crunched across the ground, and he dropped to his knees at her side. “You’re awake.”
She stared up at the sky. Stars sparkled in the blackness. “What time is it?”
“After midnight.”
“Oh Lord,” she moaned. “I feel … awful.”
His hand rested on her head and then whisked down her cheek. “The food disagreed with you, and you passed out. Do you remember that?”
Pictures flashed. The horse. The sun. His hand holding hers.
“Yes,” she sighed. “I’m thirsty.”
Her neck arched as he pressed a canteen to her lips. Water splashed down her chin.
“Please tell me I don’t have to eat for a week,” she said. She turned her head and sought his face. Crow’s feet had formed around his eyes. “You needn’t worry about me,” she whispered. “I’ll be all right.”
He worked his jaw and the dimples reappeared. She extended her finger, but he captured her hand. “You mess with me when you do that,” he said. “And you have to eat.”
She groaned. She struggled to sit up and so flung out her hand. He pulled her up beside him, brushing needles from her hair. She flipped her palms upward in her lap.
“I have something for your birthday,” he said. “A gift.”
She turned her face to his, pausing only inches away. His breath rushed warm on her cheeks and words fled. Mute, she noted every contour and ridge. “What,” she coughed. “What is it?”
His hand reached for hers and their fingers enfolded. “No, it’s not your birthday yet,” he said.


But I wish it was. His senses spun. He’d thought a lot while she slept and decided he’d give her the ring, but this time it’d be on his own terms. Would she even want it?
She cares for me. At least, he thought she did. Yet was the ring for her sake or for his? I want her as my wife. That knowledge settled in his heart. He loved her. But how was that possible?
She laid her head on his shoulder, and the tension eased. He clutched her hand in his lap, his mind drifting a thousand miles away.
“Do you believe in God?” she asked.
He jumped. “God?”
“Yes. Mama does. She always took us to church. Papa went most times, but then sometimes he didn’t. Mama says prayer changes things, and I’ve been trying to pray. You know, about us. Do you ever pray?”
He laid his cheek against the top of her head. “I can’t say that I do. I don’t know that I’m worth the effort.”
She lifted her head and stared at him. “What could you have done that’s worse than anybody else?”
You have no idea.
He looked away. “I’m … not the man you think I am.”
“Do you know what I think you are?” she said. “I think you’re handsome. And you’re sweet and kind. You’re funny. I think you loved your mama and that life somehow sold you short. That’s what I think. I can’t imagine you doing anything so horrible it’s beyond forgiveness.” She touched his cheek, and he gulped.
“I’ve known you what, three days? And already I’ve figured all of that out about you.” She yawned and reached for his arms. He folded them around her. “I like you, Michael O’Fallen. I’m thinking I like you a lot.”
Like. Not love.
She snuggled into him, and he bowed his head. She was wrong; he wasn’t all those good things. He should’ve walked away that night. Instead, he’d let his anger get the better of him, and a man had died as a result.
When would he quit living with the guilt?


Suzanne D. Williams 

Suzanne Williams Photography
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

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