Last Thursday, my daughter Avery and I walked into our hotel room in Dallas and immediately flipped on the television. Breaking news was that Michael Jackson had been taken to the hospital and that he was in cardiac arrest. We sat stunned watching everything unfold. We realized how serious it was when the news folk began to refer to him in the past tense and it wasn't long before they announced he'd died.
We honestly didn't know what to say. Finally we just looked at each other. Avery finally said....you know, I think I'll always remember this moment. Where we were when we heard this.
I realized that when these shocking things happen our memories are just so clear. Looking back, I remember sitting in the backseat of my mom's car with my girlfriend Joy. Heck, we were just little girls but I still remember hearing that John Kennedy had been assassinated. Later, I remember sitting on the floor next to my babysitter watching television when they announced that Robert Kennedy was murdered in Los Angeles. When Elvis died, I was standing at the kitchen sink in my parent's home. I learned of John Lennon's murder while on my way to my college sorority winter formal. I was with a date and we stopped somewhere to listen to the news on the radio. I cried and messed up my makeup.
Again, I was with my daughter in a hotel in Plano, Texas when we heard the news of the sudden death of Steve Irwin, The Crocodile Hunter. And the day Pope John Paul died, Avery and I were also in Plano, walking to our car after her tennis match, when friends pulled up and told us the news.
My kids were both nationally ranked tennis players and it seems I've spend much of my life traveling with them here and there for tournaments so it's no great surprise that we were often on the road when hearing shocking news of some kind.
Do you remember where you were when stunning news occurs? Bet you do.
In other news:My friend Anny Cook, a talented writer and friend of this blog, has a release! YAY! Surpassing Pleasures is out today at Ellora's Cave. I've read this book (not surprising since Anny is one of my critique partners) and I have to say it's AWESOME. If you like shifters and hot hot stuff, you'll love this one.
BUY IT HERE!Blurb:Special Agent Sebastian Spade has worked hard to convince Zipporah Jericho that he’s her man. But every encounter ends with Zip dancing out of reach to protect a family secret. When they are brought together by a murder, Seb determines this time he will never let her go.
In the bedroom, on the road, in a secret cabin in the woods, he masters her body by daring to satisfy her deepest desires. As they explore the forbidden pleasures that await them with every touch, they discover trust is another word for love.
Excerpt:Zip knew it was going to be a bad week when she found a body in the ladies restroom. Fortunately, it wasn’t her first discovery of a body so she didn’t scream or do any of the other stereotypical sissy stuff but it did piss her off. No woman should have to deal with a dead person when it was that time of the month—unless it was somebody the woman had finished off herself.
The woman’s short blonde hair was mussed, sticking out in all directions. The knife protruding from her back was a pretty clear indicator that death wasn’t accidental. And the pool of blood surrounding her left little hope that she survived, so Zip elected to go for help.
She backed out into the hall, bumping into Sebastian Spade, her brother’s coworker.
“Zip?”
“Body in the restroom,” she blurted out. “Dead body.”
He tugged her out of the way, pressing her against the wall next to the door. “Don’t move.” He slipped his gun from his holster, opened the restroom door with his shoulder and peeked inside. Damn. It certainly looked like a body to him. Approaching the woman, he leaned down and checked for signs of life though experience told him the woman was gone. He blew out a quick breath, pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched his partner’s number on speed dial.
“Yeah?”
“Me. Your sister just found a body in the restroom.” Before Quill could ask any questions, Seb turned off the phone and went back in the hallway to join Zipporah. “Quill’s on his way. Do you need to sit down?”
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest to hide her trembling hands. “No. I’m okay until he gets here.” Her quick visit with her brother Quill at the local FBI office had turned out to be a bad idea. She thought about asking for her purse, still on the restroom floor where she’d dropped it, but decided that was a bad idea. Maybe Quill or Seb would be able to return it to her later.
Seb crouched next to her while they waited. “How about telling me what happened?”
She rubbed her arms with trembling hands. “I stopped in the restroom to brush my hair. It’s windy outside. A-and there she was on the floor.”
“Did you recognize her?”
Zip shook her head. “I didn’t see her face.”
He just nodded and straightened up as Quill rushed down the hall toward them.
Remember when you were in school and first learned about the famous painters and writers who were just a little...um....OFF? Yes, we know than Vincent Van Gogh had emotional/mental problems yet produced art that graces the walls of the most famous museums in the world. Edgar A. Poe was an addict, Hemingway committed suicide, and Emily Dickenson was a recluse who was afraid of the world. Today we watch wonderful actors and actresses and marvel at their talent yet hear news reports of their addictions, their inability to sustain relationships, or their outright 'flaky' behavior.
