Sunday, November 15, 2015

Weekend Writing Warriors Blog Hop - #8Sunday (RO)

Weekend Writing Warriors

For your enjoyment ;-), here is an 8 sentence snippet from my latest release...

"Ain't no sunshine…"
With deep, earthy tones she serenaded the microphone, her lips pursed as if kissing it. She wrapped one arm around her waist. Through narrowed eyes she saw him, big as life. Bigger. His shoulders filled the entryway as he paused there. His eyes met hers. She sang directly to him, her heart pounding, voice fraught with sensual resonance. The audience thought it was part of the song.

Here's a description of The Gunny & The Jazz Singer

U.S. Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant Marc Rahn, Jr. enlisted after high school graduation to escape the pain of his parents' fatal car wreck. Now on leave after eight years and multiple Middle East deployments, he returns to his hometown to put to rest his suspicions that the "accident" might actually have been anything but.

What he doesn't expect on move-in day from the neighbor across the street is an intriguing flash of pierced nipple. The breast's owner, Phoebe Barnes, is a beautiful young jazz singer who has plans to make it big in the music business. Her early years in foster care made her hungry for attention and fame, and she's out to achieve both at almost any cost.

Despite their differing goals, Marc and Phoebe quickly give in to the sizzling attraction between them. But will their passion turn deadly when the person who killed Marc's family decides two murders might not have been enough?

 Author's Note:  This book was originally published as Lost and Found.
It now has a new title and new cover.

The Gunny & The Jazz Singer - a PG-rated excerpt-

In the inky blackness of the small club, a lone spotlight beamed down on her. At this moment in time, Phoebe Barnes was the center of the universe, all eyes on her. She heard only her accompaniment, Hank One at the piano, Hank Two on sax. The minor notes of both instruments filled the room, overshadowing the clinking of bottles and glasses and the low-toned conversations. Blocking other sights and sounds, she sang of the sadness of trying to save love only to lose it in the end.

Her petite body sheathed in a floor-length black tank dress with ruffles running diagonally across the bodice, Phoebe warbled into the microphone. The campy thick streak of her bright fuchsia bangs belied the melancholy, bluesy tones of It Doesn't Matter Any More by Eva Cassidy.

Deep in the moment, she closed her eyes, tipping her head to the side, her pursed lips stretching out the words "over you". Selling the sorrowful lyrics wasn't hard for her. In her soul she'd never gotten over being left literally on the firehouse doorstep as an infant. Her adoptive family loved her, and she loved them back, but there was still an emptiness inside her. She'd been abandoned as some woman's mistake.

She held the last note, softening it, gentling it into a dreamy musical sigh. Head bowed, hands clasping the microphone to her chest, she waited for reactions. Then at the sound of applause and with a gracious smile, she raised her head to make eye contact with the audience. A lot of them were friends here to support her in the new series of songs she was trying out. She knew they would have cheered her on even if she'd sung flat. But she hadn't. That was the best part. She was succeeding in her chosen profession, and she'd never been happier.

You can read the complete first chapter here:

The Gunny & The Jazz Singer is available for 99 cents preorder 

Enjoy!  Jane


  1. Replies
    1. Thank you so much, Nancy. Coming from you that's a real compliment.

  2. I could certainly envision the scene from your excellent description. I liked the way the audience thought it was all for them but we know the truth. Great snippet!