Classic Ginger: Sarah's Hope

Today, I'm doing a cover reveal for my upcoming novel, Sarah's Hope.  The manuscript is currently with editors, and I'm hoping they don't find much since I had my beta reader, Diane Scott Lewis go through it.  She made some wonderful suggestions and I believe I'm officially the queen of missing closed quotes.  *lol*

I'm currently working on another historical western, and I'm really excited about it.  Desperation's Bride is due to be finished sometime this year.

In the meantime, check out Sarah's Hope and Passion.  Although Sarah's Hope is a stand alone novel, it always helps to know backstory and there's a lot to read in the preceding book.

So...here are two beautiful covers.  I'm just sorry the girls don't look one and the same, because they are...at least in my mind.

TA DA!!!!!

Happy Reading!
Ginger

"Classic Ginger" To Tweet or Not To Tweet

Twitter seems to be the biggest enigma of the promotion options.   If you read the tweets that are "trending"daily, unless you're a celebrity who is doing nothing worth noting, ask yourself why you bother.  Kim Kardashian shared a picture of her newborn hooking fingers with his older sister, North; Kate Mansi, An actress  on the soap, Days of Our Lives, is leaving the show, Anne Heathaway shared a picture of her in a bikini while pregnant with her first child.  Who cares?  I'd much rather read about me and my books selling.  *lol*

Then there are articles about sites like Triberr that make you question whether or not you time is being wisely spent by sharing posts of tribemates who don't bother to share your's  If they do share, and you aren't "trending," does anyone read the tweet?  Can we compete with Mark Zuckerberg's announcement for his personal challenges of 2016?

For the sake or educating those who have no idea what I'm talking about...Posts  at triberr are "blog feeds."  You set up your blogs to feed to Triberr daily with the hope that your fellow tribemates will mark them as shared so they will be tweeted widely.  For those who don't aren't familiar with Triberr, it's a tweeting site where you join 'tribes' that fit your needs.  For example, I belong to Historical Fiction, Fiction, Romance, and a few others, but then I read that there are folks who decide whether or not your blog posts fit their "agenda."  Some don't want to be associated with Porn, and of course non-writers care nothing for author's blogs.  That's why you need to pick your tribes carefully.

 I recently discovered that if you hover your mouse across a poster's picture, stats appear, and you can see whether that person is sharing your posts or not.  Today, I decided, if you aren't sharing mine, I'm not sharing yours.  Sadly, I hid more than I shared.  Why do I feel guilty?

For author's, finding inexpensive promotional sites is really important.  Those reviews that used to be easy to come by have become elusive and hard to acquire.  One of the reasons...most reviewers volunteer their time in exchange for free reads, and there are far more authors out there than ever before.  Choices are staggering, and unless you write a blurb that reaches out and nabs attention, your book is going to sit forever.  While I'd like to think my blurbs are real grabbers...they obviously aren't.

Speaking of reviews:  Now authors have to contend with what most refer to as "trolls."  These are people who leave snarky reviews that are usually a dead giveaway that they haven't even read your book.  The only logical explanation is that there are some authors trying to sabotage their competition, but this seems a little extreme.  Amazon is trying to remedy the problem, but is disallowing authors to review others authors the solution?  I may write books, but I also read them.  So far, I haven't had my reviews removed, but I'm aware of fellow authors who have...and they aren't happy.

Bottom line...whether we tweet, blog, or review, are we doing enough or are we spinning our wheels.  I'm always open to new ideas, so if anyone wants to share them here, please do.

"Classic Ginger" Interview with Dancing Fawn (Grace Cummings) by Ginger Simpson

Interview with Grace from Dancing Fawn

Today my guest, Grace Cummings, the heroine in Dancing Fawn is here to tell us how she survived being held captive by Indians.  So, without further ado, let's begin the interview:

Just for clarification, HOST will indicate the interviewer’s questions below:

HOST:   It must have been a very traumatic ordeal for you.  Can you tell us about it?

GRACE:  It was horrid. (She shudders) I still hear my mother's screams in my head.  I…

HOST:  Do you need a moment to compose yourself?

GRACE:  No, I'm fine.  (Deep breath)  It was 1874. My family had moved around a lot because my father, bless his departed soul, was a restless man.   It was hard for a girl my age to make friends, not living in one place for very long, and just when Ma, Kevin and I thought we might settle down, General George Armstrong Custer made an announcement about gold being discovered in the Black Hills of Lakota territory.  That's all it took!  Pa loaded everything back into our Conestoga and insisted this was his chance to strike it big. 

HOST:  Why didn't you mother put her foot down?

GRACE:  You have to understand that back then, women were expected to know their place.  Ma pretty much did as Pa said.  Besides, he promised her that when he hit the mother lode, he would buy us a new house; new furniture and we'd never have to move again.

HOST:  I can see how that might have sounded pretty enticing.

GRACE:  It was.  We all had visions of putting down permanent roots, so being out on the plains, cooking over a campfire again and roughing it for a just a little longer was worth it if Pa and my brother, Kevin, found gold. 

HOST:  Tell us more about your experience, please.

GRACE:  All right.   We had made camp at the base of the Black Hills, near a sparse stand of trees.  There was a small stream nearby, so water was plentiful.  Ma and I slept on a pallet of blankets in the wagon, while Pa and Kev slept in a makeshift tent.  We had just finished breakfast one morning and were laughing and talking before Pa and Kev went off to the mine, when I happened to spy some riders on the horizon. It soon became clear from the whooping and hollering that they were being attacked by Indians.

HOST:  Oh my goodness, what did you do?

GRACE:  Pa immediately yelled for Ma and I to get back in the wagon and he and Kev grabbed their rifles and crawled underneath.  I hunkered down behind the tailgate, waiting for Ma, but she never came.  I was so scared, hearing the sound of gunfire and those blood-curdling war cries, I covered my ears, but it didn't help.  When I got the courage to peek outside, I saw the Indians circling our hiding place and Ma running in the opposite direction.  I think she was trying to draw them away from me.  I didn't realize it at the time, but Pa and Kevin were already dead.  They were easy pickings with no real shelter.

HOST:  How awful. 

GRACE:  You have no idea!  (Stopping to bite her knuckle, then staring straight ahead). They…they shot my ma down in cold blood right before my eyes.

HOST:  Oh you poor thing.  What did you do then?

GRACE:  (Dabbing at eyes with hanky) I curled myself into a ball and prayed that it was all just a bad dream, and that I'd wake up.   When I didn't hear anything for a while, I found the courage to rise to my knees and peer over the tailgate again.  I almost had heart failure when I came face-to-face with the ugliest sight I'd ever seen.

HOST:    Oh my gosh, I have goose bumps. What was it?

GRACE:  It was the person I later learned was Black Crow.  His face was painted with bright yellow lightning bolts, and he had a scar that ran from ear-to-ear.  He pulled me out of the wagon, barking orders in a strange language, and threw me to the ground.  I felt like my heart was going to pound its way right through my chemise. (Holds hand against chest)

HOST:  Oh my goodness, what was going through your head?

GRACE:  I was certain he was going to kill me, too.  I think he might have had it not been for one of his friends.  The one, called Little Elk, seemed to step in and calm Black Crow down.  Still, it was an awful thing to go through, wondering if you were going to live or die.  After Black Crow tethered my arms together and dragged me along behind his horse, like I was nothing more than an animal, I almost wished I had died.  I fought to keep up all the way to the Indian village.

HOST:  How far was it?

GRACE:  (Holding out her wrists).  I'm not sure, but you can still see the scars where the rawhide bit into my skin.  I didn't have time to get my shoes on, so my feet were pretty raw, too.  I'm used to walking beside the wagon every day, but being dragged is quite different.  It took forever.

HOST:  What happened when you got to the village?

GRACE:  I was so tired I could barely stand, but I dared not drop to the ground when it seemed like the whole village stood in a circle around me, staring and laughing.  I thought for sure I was about to meet my maker, but something very surprising happened.

HOST:  Don't stop now!

GRACE:  A beautiful green-eyed woman walked into the midst of things and protected me.  She spoke their language and dressed in their clothing, but it was evident from her flaming red hair that she was white.  If it hadn't been for her I would never have survived to tell this story, that and the fact that Black Crow's mother didn't like having a white woman share her home.  (Grace gives a half-hearted chuckle)

HOST:  What happened?

GRACE:  After only one night in her tepee, Black Crow handed me over to Little Elk. He, at least treated me with kindness, allowing Green Eyes to help me bathe and wash my hair.  I was still scared, but not nearly as much.  Pa always said I was headstrong, and it almost got me into  trouble when Little Elk gave me a new name.  (Sitting up straighter, squaring shoulders)

HOST:  Oh gosh, we're almost out of time and I hate to make you stop.  Can you give us a brief summary, and quickly?

GRACE:  Although there is so much more to tell, I'll just say that Little Elk played a big role in the decision I made when the white soldiers raided the camp. Unless you want to invite me back for another visit, I guess you'll just have to read the book.  (Holds out a copy)

HOST:  Is this for me? How nice, and it's autographed.  Grace Cummings, thank you so much for spending time with us and sharing your captivating story. I'd like to remind our readers that Dancing Fawn by Ginger Simpson is offered at http://bookswelove.com/authors/simpson-ginger/.  It’s also offered on her Amazon page, but you won't get the BOGO sale going on right now.  Buy one, get one Free.  What a holiday deal.  Happy reading!

"Classic Ginger" Snippets from Culture Shock Ginger Simpson

This week I'm sharing snippets from Culture Shock, my mystery romance that takes place in San Francisco.  Cynthia Freitas moves from the Midwest to the big city, expecting a different lifestyle.  Imagine her shock to find a serial killer loose in her own backyard, and he's killing women that look just like her...or her body when the old wiring in her run-down tenement causes her first kiss with her handsome neighbor to have a jolting outcome.


The sun was setting when they got back to the Cairns. Alex held the door open. “Here we are, back to reality.”

Cynthia stepped inside, but paused at the bottom of the stairwell. “Does reality have to smell so musty? I’d prefer something more pleasant.”

He smiled. “I agree, but the reality I referred to is we both have to work tomorrow, and that

sucks. I wish I’d been born rich instead of handsome.” He flashed a wink.

Did he know how attractive he was? His good looks had drawn the admiring stares of so many

women during their outing…and they all envied her, little ol’ Cynthia Freitas.

He followed as she climbed the stairs. She paused at the first landing and faced him. “Too bad

we can’t have everything we want, but I’d say today was a great ending to the weekend.” She smiled.

“Seriously, this was a great afternoon. I really enjoy looking in all the stores, although I can’t believe I didn’t find anything I wanted to buy. Maybe I should see a therapist.”

He shook his head and grinned. “Maybe, but push on, my dear. We have another flight to climb,

and dogs are barking.”

At her apartment, Alex took her key and unlocked the door. “I had a great time too. If it wasn’t

Sunday evening we could have made our time together last a little longer. Maybe we can do this again another time?”

Her excitement bubbled to the surface. “That would be wonderful. Hey, as a matter of fact, my

brother Kevin and his girlfriend, Sara, are coming to visit in a few weeks. They want me, of all people, to show them around the city. Would you be interested in joining us?”

She held her breath hoping he wouldn't decline. She'd like to show Kevin she did have some

confidence in herself. 

"I'd like that very much." He leaned down and brush his lips against hers.

Her heart skipped a beat then resumed its normal pace. She took a quick breath. "That was nice."

"Good. I was hoping I wouldn't offend you."

"No offense taken." And no defense either. Her knees turned to jelly. She opened her door, but

paused, hoping for maybe yet another, and longer, kiss.

Instead, he took her hand and held her knuckles to his lips. "Goodnight," he whispered, warming

her hand with his breath. He smiled and walked toward his apartment.

Cynthia went inside her place, closed the door and rested against it. She pondered the emotions

Alex stirred within her. She feared falling for him, too afraid of what might happen if he didn't

reciprocate the feelings. Could she handle rejection? She had no idea.

After making sure the door was locked, she went straight to the bedroom. Alex’s reminder about

the deadbolt flashed through her mind. She’d buy one tomorrow and ask him to install it. His offer of

help provided more opportunity to be with him, and she'd take him over the super any day.

*******************

This is where the excitement really begins.  You can get your copy at Books We Love, using my author's page and clicking the cover you like.  Please take advantage of the BOGO sale going on right now....buy one, get one free.  A great holiday special.

Now hop on over and visit my other Sunday Snippet Pals:

http://yesterrdayrevisitedhere.blogspot.com/ (Juliet Waldron)

http://triciamg.blogspot.com (Tricia McGill)


Don't forget to come back next week for more Sunday Snippets.

Just A Taste - Ginger Simpson

Classic Monday from  Ginger Simpson

Joy Garrett is preparing to marry the man of her dreams and needs her birth certificate in

order to get a passport for her honeymoon. For some reason her mother wants to avoid the issue

and urges her to enjoy the good ol' USA. While pilfering in her mother's things in the attic, Joy

comes across a birth certificate, and although the date, hospital and doctor are a match with her,

the paper certifies someone else's birth... What secret is her mother keeping?

Excerpt:

Fresh from her shower, Joy Garrett stood naked in front of the mirror and fingered the inch-long

scar just below her navel. Surgery performed on her at ten months had left the jagged line.

She’d forgotten the reason her mother gave for the operation, but the obvious results, although

small, marred Joy’s otherwise flawless torso and irked her. Anyone who wanted to keep Scott

Porter on a short leash had to look their best.

Wrapped in terrycloth, she went into the bedroom. Her heart pounded with anticipation of

the evening ahead—her first cocktail party and introduction to Scott’s co-workers. She planned

to make this an evening he’d never forget.

She slipped into her matching black bra and thong and then removed her dress from the

hanger on the closet door. Thankfully, those dreadful panty hose of old and annoying slips were

passé these days. “The less the better,” Joy murmured.

The plastic bag, with the retail store’s name emblazoned across it, crackled as she slipped it

off of her slinky dress. Annoying static plastered it to her hand. She peeled the cloying

cellophane away, wadded it, and flung it into the trash. Visions of her luscious date ran through

her mind: dark hair, eyes bluer than the sky, tall…and those shoulders—broad enough to make

other guys envious.

“Scott Porter.” His name dripped from her tongue like water from melting ice as she

shimmied into her dress. Even though they’d been seeing one another for the past six months,

thoughts of him still turned her stomach fluttery. She hoped to marry him one day. Of course, her

dreams hinged on him asking.

She had one year left to complete her master’s degree and still lived at home. A part-time

job didn’t offer the luxury of an apartment. Sharing the rent with a roommate was an option, but

she was holding out for something better. She scanned her room, noting the floral drapes and

frilly bedspread, and then wondered what style Scott would prefer in the bedroom they’d share.

Yep, someday she’d be Joy Ann Porter if she had her way. She warmed at the thought of waking

up in Scott’s arms.

This and my other short stories are available at a discounted price in various downloadable formats at Muse It Up Publishing

"Classic Ginger" It Goes On and On and On - Rerun #multitasking

I used to consider myself successful at multi-tasking, but now I'm beginning to question my capabilities. The more I do, the more I have left to do.  How does that work?

This morning I awoke to 300 emails, even though I'm on digest.  I skim the digests, but all I see in the subject line are: excerpt, promo, contest, new release.  OMG, it seems that everyone who was a "reader" when I first started this venture is now an author.  I spent several hours yesterday on Facebook and anything I posted was lost in the avalanche of book promos.  I pictured authors everywhere huddled at their computers, vying desperately for the attention of a "reader."  Yes, I know authors read, too.  I do, but I'm looking to tap into someone who isn't competition.  Is that selfish?  I don't think so. All who have books available are hoping to find the mother lode of readers and achieve a best-selling status.  Honestly, it's more like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.

When I got to my individual emails, I found the usual few word posts: Thank you, I'm sorry, I forgot, I'd like to blog, put me down, happy birthday, happy holidays, condolences, and of course, I'm blogging at ______today, please stop by.

As much as I want to support my fellow authors, if I visited every blog or attend every FB event to which I've been invited, I would never get anything else done. So how logical am I if I expect my fellow authors to visit mine?

I've already given up Farmville and most other games on Facebook, taken a leave of absence from my critique group, gone  digest on most of my yahoo loops, and tried to find a new avenue of promotion on the Amazon Communities, only to be beaten to a pulp by some of the folks there who are very territorial.  It seems there are those who don't like authors who talk about their own work.  What's up with that?  If I don't, who will?  I still crave Farmville, but I'm staying strong.  I imagine my crops have all withered and died, and I've probably been reported for cruelty to my animals.  I'm sure my farm is generally in  bad repair, but there's no way I can have a look without wanting to fix everything.  At least I kicked the habit on my own and didn't even need counseling.

Honestly, the towel is looking pretty good lately.  I've considered throwing it in a few times, or at least waving a white flag, but I'm too invested in my love of writing to quit.  I keep visiting shared links and viewing success stories written by authors who had sold hundreds if not thousands of copies on Kindle. I want to post that announcement just once.

I have several works out now, so maybe one of them will be my ticket to stardom... or at least a few sales.  :)  You can find them all on my Amazon page, and I'm always working on something new.  Coming soon, The Pendant from Books We Love, Sarah's Soul from Books we Love (as soon as I finish it), and I'm working now on Desperation's Bride.

"Classic Ginger" I Hear Voices, Do You? #pantser

I wonder now at people condemned to asylums because they insisted they had "voices in their heads." Could they have been authors? Especially, 'pantsers' and don't do any plotting?

I never had voices in my head before I started writing...now I've had more than I can handle in this lifetime...all screaming their ideas at me and wanting me to tell their story. I'v found myself so confused at times, I don't know which one to listen to, so I just didn't work on any. I've tried revising my writing style to plotting, but I just can't do it. I need my characters to lead me, but when they're all shouting???

Here's a typical day in my life, from the perspective of me and my 'crew.' Mot of these books are finished and available on Amazon, but I do have one pending.  All have new titles and covers.

Odessa: It's been days since you've typed a word of my story. Here I am, all goosebumpy over the fellow who found me in the middle of the desert, I'm dying to kiss him, and you've just left me hanging. Get on with it, would you? Odessa should be a first priority.  NOW TITLED;  ARIZONA SKY

Carrie: Whoa, hold on Dessie. Wait your turn. Ginger started First Degree Innocence long before your silly tale. You just jumped in and interrupted her with the ploy about your pa being trapped under a wagon or some such nonsense. Your urgency is a "kiss"? Really. I'm stuck in prison for something I didn't do, some ballsy chick called Jet is after me to help her set up a friend by planting a shiv, and all you can worry about is when you're gonna get kissed. Give me a break.

Meagan: Shut up, both of you. I gave Ginger the idea for a story that just might qualify for the Harlequin Undone series, even though she's not so great with steamy love scenes. *whispering* Don't tell anyone, but I think she's a prude at times.*back to yelling* The story requirement is only 15,000 words, so if you'll just take a seat and hold your tongues, maybe she can get creative and finish the damn thing. Crap...this just in. She shared the story with some cronies of hers and they tell her it's not hot enough. Now she's got this crazy idea to just make it an historical novella, called Tender Return. Geez, and I gave up my virginity for this?  NOW TITLED:  TIME INVESTED

Clarence: God, is bickering all you women ever do? I have murder cases to solve and lives to save. Sort of makes your silly little plot lines look weak, don't you think? I think The Pendant should take precedence. Right now, I've only had two deaths and I'm working on the cases, but  Ginger just submitted this to Books We Love for re-release so I'm waiting to find out who gets the necklace next, or where the darned thing came from. So stop your yammering so she can listen to me! WAS TITLED THE LOCKET.  IS AVAILABLE NOW ON BWL AS THE PRIZE FOR THEIR VALENTINE'S CONTEST.

Faith: *sniffing* What about me? I'm still waiting for her to start In Search of Joshua. How am I ever going to find happiness if all you keep taking cuts. FAITH IS PART OF AGES OF LOVE AND I STILL HAVEN'T GOTTEN TO IN SEARCH OF JOSHUA.

Clarence: Taking cuts, my ass. You already have a book published with you as the heroine. Give someone else a chance. Geez, talk about greedy.

Faith: Well, it's not just me that's anxious. The people who read the first book...at the least a couple of reviewers, didn't care much for the ending because I didn't connect with Joshua. I have to find him.

Carrie: Take a chill pill, Faith. Try living behind bars and worrying your cellmate is going to snuff you out during the night and then come talk to me. I wish I knew if I was going to survive this story or not. I'm not getting any younger, ya know.

Joy: Hey...don't forget me. I know she only typed a paragraph of my story, but I have a wonderful one to tell...and with a twist none of you have come up with. I think she's stalling on mine because she just can't get kinky. But, I intend to keep yelling in her ear until she finishes Joy's Revelation. JOY'S REVELATION IS NOW PART OF DISCOVERY...A SEVEN SHORT STORY RELEASE IN WHICH EVERYONE DISCOVERS SOMETHING.  :)

Odessa: Revelation, smevelation. It's late. We all have a gripe, but we'd better shut up so Miss EPPIE nominee can get some sleep or she'll never finish anything. At least we know she must have some talent. *laughing*. Good night guys. Talk to you tomorrow.

Clarence: Okay, Goodnight. But I get first crack at her in the morning. It's only fair because lives are involved.

Faith: Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. Whoever screams the loudest... Goodnight everyone...you too John Boy!

Everyone giggles.


If you are interested in any of my books, you can find them all on Amazon.

"Classic Ginger" Snippets Time Tantrums with Ginger Simpson

This week I'm sharing a snippet from Time Tantrums...my time-travel romance with an historical twist.  In this story, a modern day attorney and a pioneer wife change lives and eras and discover what it's like to walk in another's shoes.

 Let Me know what you think.  You cacn get your own copy via Books We Love.  Just click on my name and you'll be taken to my own page where you'll find all my books.   Take advantage of the BOGO sales.  Buy one, get one free...a great holiday value.

Time Tantrums

David sat beside Taylor’s bed, his heart aching at seeing his beautiful wife swathed in bandages, an IV in her arm, a tube down her throat. The large hospital bed dwarfed her five-foot-eight frame and elevated her head. 

The breathing machine’s swooshing and the heart monitor’s steady beep were the only sounds in the room. 

“Everything will be okay, baby. Just wake up.” He held her hand and offered words of encouragement even though he wasn’t sure she heard him. 

“Mr. Morgan?” The doctor entered with a serious look on his face. 

David rose from the chair, his pulse racing. “Yes, doctor. Have there been any changes since I spoke with you in the recovery room? How is she? Is she going to be all right?” 

“Mr. Morgan, as I told you, we don’t know right now. We did all we can. She suffered a lot of trauma. We’ve taken care of the internal bleeding and removed her spleen, so all we can do now is wait and hope.” He glanced at her chart. 

“Money isn’t an issue, doctor. If you think she needs a specialist—” 

“I assure you, Mr. Morgan, the surgical team consisted of the finest doctors. Now, only time will tell.” The doctor patted David’s shoulder, then turned and left the room. 

Tears welled and David blinked them back. He turned to his wife and took her hand. “Taylor, darling, you can make it. I know you can. I’m going to be right here. Do you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you do.” 

Her fingers curled around his hand. The grip was weak, but she responded. 

“Doctor, doctor!” David yelled. “Come quick. I think she’s waking." 

The doctor rushed back into the room.

David gazed at him, heart filled with hope. “She squeezed my hand. Squeeze it again, Taylor.” 

The physician put a stethoscope to her chest. He raised her bandage and lifted her eyelid. “Mrs. Morgan, if you can hear me, blink your eyes.” 

David watched her closely. She blinked, not once, but twice. 

“That’s good, Mrs. Morgan. You’re doing fine, just fine. You’ve been in an accident and were badly hurt, but you’re going to be okay. Your husband is here.”

David stood and leaned in. “Hello, darling. I’ve been so worried about you, but like the doctor says, you’re going to be fine.” 

He brushed a kiss against her cheek. 

* * * * 

You aren’t Frank! Where’s Frank? Why are you kissing me? I don’t know you. Somebody help... 

Who was this man? Mariah fluttered her eyes and barely lifted her head off the pillow. The mere movement caused her temple to pound. Her gaze darted around the room. Nothing looked familiar. Why did she feel so sore?  Nothing she saw made sense. Strange machines, dials, sounds, and the room—so white, so pristine. She tried to raise herself, but couldn’t. Where was she? 

Glancing down at the strange tube in her arm, she gasped, then raised her hand and touched her head. Bandaged? God help her. Where was her husband? Her mind formed Frank’s name but her lips failed to speak it as darkness shrouded her. 

* * * * 

A woman in white stood over Mariah. “Oh, Mrs. Morgan, you’re awake. We’ve been so worried about you. Your husband just went down to the cafeteria for something to eat. He’s been here every day for the past two weeks. You gave us quite a scare.” 

The stranger fluffed Mariah’s pillow and checked the tube in her arm. “Wouldn’t you know you’d wake up the minute he left? Poor fellow, he’s barely had time to change his clothes.” 

Cafeteria? The word meant nothing. Two weeks? She’d been here for two weeks? And where was here?   She tried to ask, but nothing came out. Vaguely recalling something thick and painful in her mouth, she swallowed. Thank goodness whatever had been there was gone. 

“Don’t try to speak, Mrs. Morgan." The stranger patted her arm. "Your throat is probably pretty raw. We just took the breathing tube out yesterday. You’ll be able to talk soon, but now you just need to rest and get well. Let me give you a little more pain medication.” She fiddled with some sort of bagged liquid hanging above the bed. Her fingers followed the tube down and smoothed the tape holding a needle in Mariah’s arm. “There, that should make you feel a little more comfortable.” 

Breathing tube? Mrs. Morgan? What’s happening? Somebody tell me, please. Confused and frightened, Mariah’s teary eyes focused on the man who walked through the door.

“Ah, Mr. Morgan, your wife is finally awake.” The woman in white greeted him. “She seems pretty alert.” 

“Taylor, sweetheart.” He rushed to the bed. “Thank God, you’re awake. I’ve been so worried about you.” 

Mariah turned her head to the side, avoiding the stranger’s kiss. “I’m not Taylor.” Her words were merely a whisper that no one heard. 

“What are you trying to say, darling?” He bent lower.

“I asked her not to try to speak yet.” The white-clad woman rubbed her own throat. “The breathing tube you know.” 

“Of course." He nodded. "The nurse is right. Don’t talk, sweetie. When you’re healed, we’ll have lots of time to chat. Just rest.” 

Confusion shrouded Mariah. Why did they keep calling her Mrs. Morgan, and mentioning Taylor? Why weren’t they using her own name?  A tear slid down her cheek. She’d rest for now, but when she could speak, she’d insist on knowing where she was and why a strange man considered her his wife. 

The man she knew only as Mr. Morgan stretched his hands over his head then massaged the small of his back. “Now that I know you’re on the mend, I’m going home to shower, shave and change clothes. Your parents are waiting for my call to update them on your condition. I’ll be back tomorrow. You get some rest, baby.” He bent and kissed her forehead. 

Yes, go away. I need to think…and answers...I need some answers. Mariah sensed herself drifting off. Something made her very drowsy. 

* * * * 

The nurse’s poking and prodding rudely awakened Mariah. “Good morning, Mrs. Morgan. I need to check your vitals.”  Sunlight barely filtered through whatever covered the window. Mariah’s head felt like it hovered somewhere above her. She blinked, hoping she was in the middle of a bad dream and about to wake up. 

A strange band squeezed her arm, and she grimaced. The nurse placed a round, flat object against Mariah’s skin, and appeared to listen intently. “Good blood pressure, Mrs. Morgan," she finally said. "How are you feeling?” 

How? Terrified! Mariah heard her own heartbeat. “I’m sore,” was all she could croak out. 

“Of course you’re sore. You were in a terrible car accident.” She jotted something on a board of some sort. 

Mariah's thoughts jumbled, and putting them into words proved impossible. What kind of accident was a car? Where was her family? 

The nurse rounded the bed and revealed the shortness of her skirt. Mariah widened her eyes and bit her lip to keep her mouth from gaping. How inappropriate to show so much leg. 

The woman tucked the covers in at the end of the metal frame. “Do you think you could manage a drink this morning? Perhaps some ginger ale? The doctor left orders for you to have liquids. Once we know you can tolerate drinking, perhaps we can get you a food tray.” 

Mariah was hungry. If she’d been here for two weeks, how had she survived without eating? Just the mere thought of being without food for so long made her stomach growl. “Yes… please.” She forced out the words. 

After the nurse placed a filled glass on Mariah’s tray, she pushed a button on the side of the bed. Mariah rose into a sitting position. Her gaze darted from the mechanism to the nurse, and questions burned in her mind. How had she done that? 

Amidst jumbled thoughts, she maneuvered around the tube in her arm and picked up the glass, anxious to ease the soreness of her throat. As she took a sip, he entered the room. 

“Taylor! Look at you. Sitting up! You must be feeling better.”

The man called David Morgan had combed his blond hair and shaved. He didn’t look nearly as haggard as she recalled. Not quite as tall as her Frank, the shirt he wore revealed the same muscular shoulders.  Mariah considered him good-looking, but his clothes, his shoes... everything about him and this place seemed strange. Everyone dressed and spoke differently. If only someone would explain what was happening. 

“It won’t be long before I can take you home, babe.” David Morgan interrupted her thoughts. “I’ll bet you’ll be happy to be back in your own home and bed.” 

Mariah’s hand trembled. She set her glass down, lay back against her pillow and looked away. Why would she go home with him? She didn’t even know the man. 

Using every bit of mustered strength, she turned her glaring gaze back to him. “I’m not Taylor!” she croaked.

**********************

"Classic Ginger" Do You Want a Husband or Need a Father?

I'm always amazed at the number of women who say, "My husband would never let me...(finish the sentence.)"

Just typing that quote makes me shiver.  I have always believed and do to this day, that marriage is a 50/50 arrangement.  I entered into a union as an adult and equal to my husband.  I asked my father for permission to do things because he was my parent and responsible for my actions until I became an adult, but I don't need to have permission from my husband to do whatever I wish.  Out of respect and kindness, I "check" my intentions with him to assure there is no problem, but to assume I need his permission is totally outside the realm of reality. I'm a grown woman.

I think this type of attitude transcends to the heroines in my books. I like women who have guts and aren't afraid to live life on their own terms.  Some of mine have withstood Indian attacks, mock rescues by the Cavalry,falling into a well, fighting a raging river, and in my current WIP, living life with someone threatening her with murder.  I've had reviewers call my female leads head-strong and spoiled, but I believe anyone who takes responsibility for their own decisions and stands strong against the grain can be considered spoiled if someone is viewing relationships from a parent/child aspect. If you look at an individual as a responsible and mature adult, you usually get a different outcome.

Main Character Acts Like a Spoiled Brat - A review for Ellie's Legacy

Another Review for Ellie's Legacy:  Although Ellie matured and realized her father was trying to do what was best for her, she acted like a brat for much of the time.

Review from Betrayed:  Although living a comfortable life financially, she wants to be loved and be in love. She meets Evan online and he sweeps her off her feet.

Review from Betrayed: Cassie is extremely trusting and let things happen too quickly. Evan took advantage of her at every turn and she suffered the consequences

A relationship should be a  sacred bond into which you enter with love and respect, not a means of binding someone to another's opinions and judgments.  In my humble opinion, separation happens when one party loses the respect of the other. Respect t is a big component in love...along with trust, and if you can't trust your partner to make their own decisions, there isn't much room for respect...or love.

In my novel, Betrayed, I wrote about Cassie Fremont, an independent woman who WAS a confident and self-supporting individual until she let a man steal her independence from her. Betrayed happened to be based on a true life experience with Internet dating, and the message I hoped to deliver resounded with the very person who lived through the entire ordeal.  Love is a wonderful thing, but none of us need validation to make us who we need to be.

Okay...this is my rant for the day.  Just remember, if you're talking to me on FB, don't ever indicate you have to seek your husband's approval.  *lol*

http://www.bookswelove.com/authors/simpson-ginger

"Classic Ginger" Snippets Shortcomings with Ginger Simpson

This week, I'm sharing a snippet from my Young Adult, Shortcomings.  There's a valuable message in this book about how to treat people with disabilities and deal with bullies.  Hope you'll consider sharing a copy with family this holiday.  Although the story deals with teens, the reading material is appropriate for all ages.  The description says it all, and this would make a wonderful gift for any reader on your list. Happy Thanksgiving...I'm going back to my Magic Cookie Bars.  :)

High School is hard enough without the cold stares from classmates that remind you every day how different you are. 

Our shortcomings don't define who we are, unless we let them. Cindy Johnson needs to learn that. Born with one leg shorter than the other, she has no self-esteem because of the cruel comments and cold stares she receives from her classmates. When Cory Neil, the football quarterback asks her to Homecoming, she's quite sure he's asked her on a dare and refuses. It takes more than just her mother's assurances that Cindy's beautiful before she realizes she may have made a mistake in turning him down.



 http://amzn.com/B00J16ZA90 

"Classic Ginger" Merry 2015! Wow...where did the year go? It will be 2017

As I was looking through my files for something "Christmassy" to post, I came across this old 2007 newsletter I put on my blog.  I'm going to update it in RED so you can see how time changes things and people.  The sentiment is the same.  Happy Holidays to you and yours.

Happy Holidays,

I can't believe that 2015 is almost over.  Wow....does time fly. 

I can’t believe that 2007 is almost over, although I can’t say I’m sorry to see it go.  As far as my writing career, the year was a waste. This year wasn't a waste.  I managed to re-release several books from another publisher, and now all my work is at Books We Love.  I still have a Novella in the works that is scheduled to be released for a Valentine's day promo, and also am trying hard to finish Sarah's Soul.  Whew.  I'm tried just thinking about it. I had no new releases, surrendered associations with two agents and negotiated myself from a contract with a publisher with personnel practices that I found offensive.  Oh, if only I could share all the details, but that would take us well into 2018.  J

 I'm still finding most publisher's offensive, but it's too much trouble to pull everything and try self-pubbing.  Besides, Jude at BWL works harder than any publisher I've ever been with and I have high hopes that before I die...I might become somewhat known.  :)

Wow...we haven't lived with my son and his wife for several years...there have been three different roofs over our head and we are now enjoying a new home in Baxter.  I swear this last move will be my last.  I told hubby I'm not budging from this house until Neptune comes and carries me away.  I mean it.  As for the weight...it's not as bad as it once was, but I've come to the conclusion that I'm never going to meet the standards of the weight chart doctors use.  According to the current one, I need to be 7'8".

On the home front, things are status quo.  We are blessed to be healthy, have a roof over our heads and plenty to eat…as our weight can attest.  The only person in this house who is skinny is Spencer and I have a hard time finding something he likes to eat.  The doctor assures me that Spence won’t starve to death, although I do wish I couldn’t count his ribs.  He’s getting tall, but still is very young for a five-year-old.  Can you believe...Spencer is thirteen and in middle school.  He's still skinny as a rail, but thank God, he's healthy and happy.  As far as his autism, I don't think he'll ever really be like a traditional child, but he's making good progress, goes to Karate, plays in the band, and his Mom drives a school bus now so he stays with her most of the time.  I don't see him nearly as much as I'd like to now that we've moved an hour away.  But...now I'm here to help out my sister when it comes to our 91 year young mom.  Glynda actually got to take a vacation this year for the first time in a long while.  She went to Panama.

He’s made great progress with his speech.  He and I can actually communicate and that is such a great thing. Spencer talks up a storm now, but too fast.  I have to remind him to slow down so NeNe can understand him. He’s gone from a vocabulary of approximately ten words to well over a hundred, and sometimes in whole sentences.  We have every hope that he will eventually mainstream into regular classes because the one he’s in isn’t where we want him to be.  His developmental delays and degree of autism is not nearly as bad as his peers, and we’ve had problems with him mimicking his friends.  Progress, not regress, is our motto.  J ####@@@@@!!!!!**** 

 Just playing above.  If you type after the smiley face...you get all kinds of symbols.  Anyhow...The school has been great with mainstreaming Spencer.  He has a CDC homeroom, but goes to regular classes for his main subjects.  Don't know if he'll ever be able to live on his own, but we all continue to pray that he'll overcome his autism.

The best news is that Brett, Carrie, Kelly and I have refrained from killing one another this year.  It isn’t easy living with family, especially when the house isn’t yours and you don’t feel a sense of entitlement to anything…  Oh, I’m wrong about that.  I own the kitchen when the dishes need washing or the laundry room when it’s stacked with clothes, but other than that, Kell and I try to dwell in our one room.  I can’t complain, because I made the decision to devote my efforts to helping my grandson, but I can grumble at times.  J  Kelly grumbles all the time but takes it all in stride.  I know this has to be very hard for him.   What a great guy I’ve got, although at times I’d like to strangle him.  That’s normal, I think.  No longer share a home with my kids, but we do live in a basement with no windows.  I take lots of Vitamin D but have become pretty much a hermit.  I just celebrated my 70th birthday, and for that I'm truly grateful.  I always expected to die young like my dad's entire family, but I guess God has other plans for me.  Kelly still grumbles, but this year, bought a 1956 Olds which is in Reno being prepped for Hot August Nights 2016.  I can't wait to see the finished product and remind him that he now has back the classic car he missed.

I live with one son, but don’t hear from the other often enough.  He and Jeni still live in Sacramento, which is way too far away.  I keep connected with him by reading his MySpace Blog.  I wish someone with connections would realize what a humorous talent he is and recruit him.  If you want to check him out, his web address is:  http://www.myspace.com/skidjones

Now that I don't live with one son, I don't hear from either of them often.  Brett, Carrie and Spencer do visit, but if I want to know what's going on with my oldest son, I have to visit his FB page.  Isn't it funny how Myspace died out and FB took over?  Scott has a huge following who all think he's brilliant.  He is, but he takes after his Mom.  *lol*  I wish all his followers would buy at least one of my books.  I'd be rich.

By the way, if you want to keep up with me, I’ve switched my newsletter to a blog.  You can find me at http://mizging.blogspot.com and read my daily drivel.  According to ‘people in the know’, one must blog, so I do.  Still blogging, as you can see.  Connie Vines is my new blog partner, and I love her dearly for stepping up to help out.  For western readers, I also started Cowboy Kisses, a blog that features an array of talented western authors.  Check it out.  http://cowboykisses.blogspot.com

Well, let’s see if I can sum up this year for you like I used to do:

January – Scheduled and cancelled a bone density test.  Still haven’t had it.  Had my bone density test.  My bones are fine, as evidenced by the many falls I've had.  Stairs and I aren't friends, but I'm lucky, my bones must be in fine shape.  Scheduled for a colonoscopy and endoscopy in a few weeks, and eek...having a Biltmore lift on my face as my early Christmas present.  Too many sagging chins.  *lol*

February – In my hunger for friends, I visited a local chapter of the Red Hat’s Society.  Decided I wasn’t that hungry…or old.  I'm old enough for the Red Hat Society, but I don't look good in hats...plus I may be a senior citizen in numbers but in my head, I'm not.  That's sad, isn't it.Still don't have any friends close by, but I'm still hopeful I'll find a way to connect.

March – Spent two days in the hospital.  Shared a room with a woman that I’m positive hacked up a lung while I was there.  So much for sleeping.  I've been in the hospital a few times, but the last several have been in a private room.  I have scar tissue from stomach stapling in 1991 and have to go in every now and then and have the opening stretched so I can get food down.  You'd think I'd be skinny, but I guess there are calories in the air.

April – Got the bill for the hospital…I REMEMBER that.  My oldest son turned 40!  Geesh!  Thanks for Medicare, I don't see many horrid bills, but my oldest son is now 47.  My baby is 40.  Yep...I'm 70.

May – I think I signed up for Water Aerobics.  Went three times and quit.  Whose idea was it to surround the swimming pool with mirrors???  Kelly and I went to Tunica and met his brother and wife.  It was nice to get away.  Part of my health insurance is Silver Sneakers, so hubby and started water aerobics in Gallatin before we moved.  We enjoyed the classes, and most of the people didn't look any better in their swim suits than I did.  (horrible).  We moved and started at the YMCA here, but Kelly doesn't care for the classes, classmates or instructor, so we've taken a hiatus.  I can't do anything but low impact, so, I sit and eat.  *lol*

June – I think we went camping, but it’s a blur.  We took Spencer so it wasn’t very relaxing.  Camping is my salvation.  We bought a motor home last year and I totally enjoy getting away.  We joined Diane and George Parkinson  in Pigeon Forge this year, and I hope we get to do it again.  We are planning a long trip in July and August, and maybe even going to Alaska again in June.  Being a senior has it's perks. Looking forward to seeing places I haven't seen, and visiting FB friends.  Watch out, Rita Karnopp!

July – Traveled to Southern California for my sister’s wedding.  Got to see people I hadn’t seen in a while and had a fun time.  Tried to convince myself that everyone look as old as me.  Boy...that time went by fast.  We had a spat, didn't speak for years, her husband passed and now we live together  .

August – Kelly and didn’t celebrate our eleventh anniversary.  He worked, I wondered where the time went.  Applied for Social Security. Worried the Social Security won't last my lifetime, let alone for my kids.  Kelly and I celebrated 19 years of marriage, but have actually been together 20.  If you count my first marriage of 32...I qualify for the Golden Anniversary gift.  *lol* Feel free to mail it.  :)

September – It’s a blur. Scheduled and cancelled mammogram and bone density.  Just had a mammogram and found out the positive results.  I'm having a "Biltmore" face lift in December to get rid of my saggying neck.  The plastic surgeon promises I won't look like a snake.  *lol*  I have no lips and it seems stretching my face will only maximize the slit where there supposed to be.  God, help me...I don't want those "duck lips" everyone is sporting these days, either.

October – Halloween.  We bought lots of candy and had five trick-or-treaters.  Wasn’t that just yesterday?  Still have the candy.  Will try to pass it off as Santa’s offerings in the kid’s stockings.

November – Turned sixty-two.  Having a hard time dealing with the age thing.  Oh, sixty-two is so young.  I'm still having a hard time dealing with the age thing, but I think that's because I have a 60-year-old husband.  Of course, he's going bald, has legs like a bird and a belly like an old man.  *lol*

December – Here I am…trying to be creative with a Christmas letter when I have no memory or sense of humor anymore. 

I still have a sense of humor.  You have to have one to get through life.  Sadly, I believe the world is beyond repair.  People tend to think posting on FB is going to change things, but the violence continues and all we do is pray. Last year we rode in two Christmas parades with my son.  He drove a jeep and pulled a decorated trailer.  We threw candy to the local kids, and loved it.  Talk about a great way to get into the spirit.  I hope we do it again this year.  In fact...I bought a new coat and scarf.  *lol*

Although it looks pretty dismal on paper, I thank God for everyday I’m here.  I pray that we all have a bless 2008 and that I’m still around to bore you next year.

No changes here, but life isn't so dismal if you don't count what's going on because of our President (oops...I promised not to be political.)  I'm still praying to be around next year, and look a lot better.  I promise to share before and after pictures on my blog, and as dismal as things looked in 2008...they look much brighter if we can find peace among ourselves.  So...there you have it...another year in a nutshell.

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year

Ginger & Family

http://www.bookswelove.com/authors/simpson-ginger