I've received some very nice 5-star reviews this week on several of my books.
FLIGHT RISK: ""This book I loved..." "Awesome book ..."
ITALIAN WITH A SIDE OF PASTA: "A fun quick read ... Pick this up and enjoy a great romantic ride."
"I highly recommend this short story that you can finish in two hours at the most. I only have one negative thing to say about the story…it was too short. I wanted to read a lot more about the family."
THE LIFE AND TIMES OF LUCAS MCGILLEY: "This book is in the top ten best books I have ever read"
"I very much enjoyed this book, it is one of my (Favs) Good job on this one too Suzanne, I really hope you write stories on Lucas's brother's, I would buy them all every last one lol"
I KISSED THE BOY NEXT DOOR: "My first book by this author but given this story I am most definitely going to look into some of her other books. I love feel good books and I definitely liked this one"
ME & TIMOTHY COOPER: "I absolutely loved this book and the only thing I would change about it would be to make it longer! Very strongly recommended"
All of the sale links to my books can be found on my blog.
Also, I redid the cover for a future YA, LOVIN' LILAC, to better fit the storyline I have fixed in my head. I'm excited about this cover and couldn't wait to share it with you!
TODAY'S EXCERPT is another from the story GLASS. (You can read the previous excerpt on the blog.) This story will be out in October (my own Halloween alternative). I was able to complete the writing this week and am so excited.
Andre Garner, up-and-coming glassmaker, thought the trip to the island was worth the risk. He’s been warned the place is full of mystery, that the old woman living there is peculiar and anything can happen.
Yet the Delacroix glass collection is the stuff of fables. To contribute to it could make his career and set him up for a very long time.
But soon the stories and legends of the past pull him in, he and the beautiful girl he didn’t expect to find there. Trapped together, unable to escape, he finds the most valuable thing inside isn’t the glass at all.
In this scene Cerise Delacroix has taken visiting glassmaker, Andre Garner, to see the indoor pool, but he's more concerned with her.
“It’s … magnificent,” he said.
Indeed it was. An open space with the pool stretching from wall to wall and a series of dressing rooms lining the corridor. Potted ferns growing in wicker stands sat at each corner, and overhead, wrapped around the space was a fantastic stained glass mural.
“Dutch, isn’t it?” he asked. “Achterberg.”
“You have a good eye.”
But then his eye for glass was what her grandmother had brought him here for.
“How much did it cost?” He wandered around the shallow end of the pool and stood beneath the windows, his head thrown back.
“Too much, according to grandmother, but my grandfather insisted.”
“And it’s stood all this time?” he asked. “Not been broken or cracked?”
“Once.” She moved to his side. “Grandfather brought in the original artist to repair it.”
That boggled the mind, even to her, and she’d seen it many times. That had also been before her day, sometime in the fifties.
He dropped his gaze and revolved slowly, ending his scrutiny with a crooked smile aimed at her face. The steady heartbeat she’d tried to regain pranced again in her chest.
“You’d like to swim?” she asked.
One eyebrow shot up. “In this weather?”
“Why not? There’s no weather in here. Plus, the water’s warm. There’s swim trunks in any of the dressing rooms.”
He knelt and trailed one hand in the sparkling liquid. “Heated?” He glanced up at her. “How?”
“We are self-sufficient here, Mr. Garner. My grandmother might insist on keeping everything as it once was, but she’s also willing to embrace modern convenience.” She pointed a finger upward. “Solar panels on the roof store energy in a small building out back. We have whatever electricity we need no matter the situation.”
“But surely, the pool wasn’t heated originally.”
She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t. That was my father’s doing. But as I’ve said, you’re welcome to take a swim.”
“What about you?” he asked.
Blood pulsing in her ears, she took in his question, briefly shaken. “What about me?”
He stood to his feet and narrowed the space between them. “You.” He raised his fingers and brushed the tips down her cheek. “Do you ever let your hair down, Cerise? Or are you a fixture like this house?”
He returned his hand to his side, but the spark of his touch tingled on her skin.
“Swimming is good exercise.”
The quirk of his smile increased. “Always so practiced,” he said. “Every answer laid out for you, as if you picked it from a list. No hint of emotion. No feeling.” He crossed his arms. “I’ll make you a deal.”
She waited, butterflies flitting in her gut.
“I’ll swim if you will.”
The butterflies erupted into flight, and her mouth dry, she attempted to swallow.
“Besides, you promised me entertainment.”
She found her voice, albeit thin. “I hardly think that’s proper. Is it?”
“Proper?” He waved his hands wide. “This is a state-of-the-art society. Everything man wants, man can have. There are no rules to break because they can all be bent at will. Like glass when heated. You shape it this way or that to your pleasing.”
“I am not made of glass, Mr. Garner.”
“Andre,” he corrected. “Call me by my first name, as I have used yours.”
She nodded sharp. “Very well.”
“But back to my question,” he stated.
“About rules?” She turned away from him, resting her gaze on the water. “There is something to be said for the old-fashioned, I think. For not treating rules as if they were pliable, but instead fine lines made to hold us back.”
“Not hold us back,” he said. He’d stepped closer, and his breath puffed warm on her neck. “Guide us. Teach us right from wrong. But never prevent us from living. You are not living here in this place, and I don’t believe a girl as lovely as you is meant to be left on a shelf.”
“You flatter me toward your own end,” she said.
He laughed, the sound echoing across the room. “I’ve simply asked you to come for a swim. Me and you, a man and a woman, enjoying each other’s company in a perfectly allowable atmosphere.”
“You enjoy my company?” The question slipped out unheeded. She would call it back, but it was too late. Why did it matter what he enjoyed? He was here for a day at most, then the weather would clear and he’d return to wherever he’d come from. She’d be left here, as always, a watchdog for her grandmother’s moods.
“A swim,” he said. “And a story.”
She turned on her heel. Their faces were only inches apart. “A story?”
“Mmm. Tell me about my father, and I’ll tell you about yours.”
She returned his gaze. “What do you know of my father?”
He reached into his pocket and took out the photographs. Selecting one, he turned it around. “This picture. I know where it was taken and why. I’m thinking you don’t.”
She plucked it from his hand and taking a step back, turned it toward the light. He was right. She had no idea, nor had she noticed her father was in the picture. But there he was, he and Levi and another boy, unnamed.
“If I make this deal, then what?”
He placed his knuckles on her cheek and drew them downward. “Then you take your hair down, and let me see you for the glorious creature you really are.”
Suzanne D. Williams
Suzanne Williams Photography
Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.