"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.

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

Released July 12, 2014 - Sarah's Heart & Passion

Look a little familiar?  I've combined two books into one with hopes it will soon be available in print, and Michelle Lee has designed a dynamite cover from the two that captures the essence of the story.  This book was originally a stand alone story about Sarah's Journey, but I actually received a couple of reviews that had my reviewers in tears because they didn't like the way the story ended...so I wrote a sequel for those who didn't understand the story and why there was no HEA for a white woman and a half-breed man in the 1800s.  Now, you can read the entire story, and it's a great combination of the old west, time-travel, humor,contemporary, romance, and even a little fantasy.  In fact, I had a hard time trying to decide how to categorize it.  Be the first to leave a review and let me know how much you enjoy Sarah's story.

Here's the blurb:

Sarah Collins set her sights for California and a new beginning, but never imagines a war party's attack on the wagon train she joins. A sole survivor, Sarah must find her way back to civilization, and a man of half-blood happens along at just the right time and becomes her hero...or is the whole scenario only a dream driven by all the romance novels she reads as an editor? 

Sarah wakes, her cheeks damp with tears. Like a dust devil in a dying windstorm, all traces of her handsome rescuer vanish with a farewell kiss and the annoying blast of an alarm clock...until he appears at her door as a new neighbor. Will Sarah find a way to win the love she tried so hard to capture in her dream without being declared insane, or will the sexy woman living an apartment away beat Sarah at her own game? 

Previously published as Sarah's Heart and Sarah's Passion, this edition combines both stories

You can purchase this book on Amazon.

A Page Straight From... #apagestraightfrom

Veering from my Wednesday feature, I'm going to share a page from my WIP, The Well, which has no cover yet.  Please feel free to offer feedback.  I need all the help I can get on this one.  As you will probably be able to tell, it's a time travel.

THE WELL
OKLAHOMA


Hot winds drove a herd of tumbleweeds across endless acres of sod—broken and dried by the sun.  The devastating drought in Oklahoma continued on, leaving everything parched or dying.  Using the rope crank, Betsy Wagner lowered the bucket into the well. She swiped at the perspiration on her brow with the sleeve of her blue and white checked cotton dress.

Each time she fetched drinking water for the family, the rope attached to the wooden pail reeled closer and closer to the end.  What would they do if the well ran dry?  They’d already given up bathing and Ma only prepared one meal a day, using mostly vegetables she’d preserved and dried meat.  Her younger sister, Hannah, moaned the most, but change was inevitable if they were to survive.

Drastic times called for change. The horses needed water every day but Betsy no longer filled the trough, instead gave them small amounts from a pail.  The chickens seemed unaware of their plight and pecked unaffected at the ground, searching for insects.  A small dirt devil swirled across the empty corral and moved like a ghost-like apparition through the white-washed fence and then disappeared from sight behind the barn.  Rain was certain to come and things would improve.  She needed to cling to that hope.

Pa’s hunts were unsuccessful as most game had fled in search of vegetation. Fishing was no better since the lakes and streams dried up, leaving bloated trout and catfish littering the banks. At seventeen, this was the most severe time Betsy had witnessed in her life.  The plants in the garden were a withered as Betsy’s heart.  She'd never find a beau miles from nowhere to whisk her away to better times.  Her stomach growled the hunger and her dried mouth cried out for a long, cool drink.

A glance at the shack they called home served as a reminder there was no reason to stay in this God-forsaken place, but Pa saw something she didn’t and remained determined to make this their permanent home.  Perhaps it was because they’d been driven from every other place they’d lived…either by crooked tax men or cattlemen who didn’t want to share the rangeland.  Pa came from a family that raised sheep and saw that as his calling.

Betsy cranked the bucket up and shielded her eyes against the sun while looking longingly at the sky for any hint of rain, A few wispy white clouds drifted across a sea of blue, and in the distance, vultures circled some poor critter either dead or dying.  Her heart ached for such a gruesome end to life.

She turned her attention back to the chore at hand. The bucket crested the well’s top, only half full this time.  The water used to be so high, she often bent over and stared at her reflection.  Doubtful she could see her image now, she crawled up on the stone ledge and peered over, searching for any hint of her likeness. Stretching farther . . . she still saw nothing but emptiness.  The old stone beneath her grip gave way, sending her tumbling head first into the black abyss. Her screams echoed back to her.
Betsy hit the water, barely creating a splash.  This wasn’t the way she expected to prove how much remained.  Gathering her wits, she stood, wiped sodden hair from her face and found the water dismally came to her knees. Her second worst fear was realized…her first—how to get out of the well.
“Help me.  Ma!  Pa! Hannah!  Someone!  Heellllpppp!”  Her cries went unanswered but she yelled until she had no voice left.

Time slipped by, and she grew weary.  Her elbow, evidently skinned during the fall, ached and her knees begged her to sit.  The blue sky above darkened with the approaching nighttime, and Betsy sagged into the water letting it lap to her chin while she rested against the stony interior.  Why hadn’t someone come to look for her?

Despite her discomfort, Betsy slept.  She woke with a crick in her neck and fingers wrinkled from being under water.  She glanced up, praying to see someone peering back, but strangely, no longer saw the sky.  Could it still be nighttime?

  Straining her eyes, she noted light leaking around what appeared to be a cover.  Her mind whirred.  Was this all a bad dream?  The fact that she sat in water, confined in a stone prison confirmed the truth.  But why hadn’t someone missed her, and why did they cover the well unless her family thought her dead.  With a hoarse voice, she shouted as loud as she could, but still no one responded.  Trying to find a bright spot, she remembered the circling vultures.  At least she’d cheated them out of a meal, but that didn’t lift her spirits.  Tears plunked into the water, barely making a ripple. Death would surely claim her and deny her marrying, having a family of her own and growing old with them.  She rested her hand on her bosom, searching for a heartbeat.  Maybe she was already dead and didn’t realize it.

****

Dream Weaver by Shirley Martin Reviewed....

If you enjoy time travels with an historical twist, then you'll love this book.

In modern day, Gwen Emrys has visions, and one comes upon her while she's driving and almost causes her to crash.  In this vision, she sees a man in a cabin in the woods--a handsome man, clad in clothing from a different era.  While trying to determine the reason for and the source of these glimpses into the past, she decides to visit a restored historial fort, and to her dismay and surprise, ends up in this middle of her vision.

The prim and proper man from a different era, speaks quite properly and Gwen must learn to tamp back her slang in order to be understood.  At times, it's quite humorous.

Christian is a doctor and travels frequently to visit his patients who live hither and yon. Of course, when she mentions hospitals and no house calls in her era, he simply disregards her information as nonsense.  How in the world could such things exist?   He wants to trust her, but there is word that there is a French spy passing valued information, and since she comes with a map of Fort Pitt in her strange attire, he can't put aside his niggling fear. 

Despite her attraction for him, she's determined to find her way out of the 1700s and back to her own time, but everything is gone, including her car and purse with evidence to show him as prove of her claim that she's come from the future--a fact he finds laughable.

Working side-by-side with Christian, Gwen speaks of cures for the diseases she sees and wishes she had access to help heal the ailing, but in her predicament, she has to determine if there is a chance to get back to the twenty-first century, or if her traveling back in time holds a meaning she has yet to discover.

The author of this historical/modern time-travel did a wonderful job with the story, both historically and how a woman caught in 1762 might react to being without all the modern conveniences she's come to rely upon.  I honestly couldn't put this book down until I finished it.  It's worthy of my "I Dug It" award.

You can purchase this Books We Love offering on Amazon.

Ginger's New Video for her Upcoming release

Hattie's Heroes is coming any day now from Books We Love, Ltd.  Roseanne Dowell, someone who is always willing to read my ARCs, had this to say.  I value her opinion and know she's always going to be truthful.  Of course, we share many of the same opinions when it comes to writing style.  *smile*


Ms Simpson has done it again. She's woven a tale of a young girl about to embark on a new stage in life. Hattie Carson leaves the orphanage where she grew up - the only home she ever knew- to start a new adventure. Taking a job as a helpmate to a family with three children leaving on a wagon train to California. Anxious, and a little bit scared, Hattie can't wait to start her new life. Much to her surprise and delight, she meets up with Billy Monroe and easily slips into a relationship with him.  

 Fearing Indians, Billy shouts at Hattie to swim to safety. She swims safely to the other shore, right into a strange new world. I enjoyed thi book and highly recommend it. I'm giving it five stars.

Ginger's Six Sentence Sunday

Howdy.  I missed ya'll last week because I had house guests.  It's rude to wander off and play on the computer, so I missed posting and I also missed reading the great snippets I follow each week.  But, I'm back today with another six from my current WIP, Hattie's Hero.  When you finish reading my six, head back to Six Sentence Sunday for more links.  What a great way to spend an afternoon.  :)

The last time we visited Hattie, she had just met with Mr. Franklin who took her home to meet the Mrs.  He wasn't very tactful...and in answer to someone's comment...his attempt at whispering failed.  Sometimes the dratted seventh sentence holds a key.  :) This week, the women are sharing a cup of tea as part of the interview for Hattie to accompany the family on the wagon train trek to California, and she's just been asked if the compensation is fair. 

Here's this week's six:

“Oh, yes ma’am. My expectations are minimal, as are my belongings. I assure you, you won’t be disappointed if you select me.”

“I believe you, Miss Carson, and I like your gumption.”  Mrs. Franklin drained the last of her tea and placed the cup and saucer back on the silver tray. “The first order of business is to make sure you understand this won’t be an easy undertaking. I would hate for you to decide somewhere in the middle of nowhere that you weren’t cut out for the job.”

 Hope you enjoyed my six. The cover I've shared is the proposed cover, but the more I write, the more it isn't fitting as I hoped it would.  I've changed directions, and although the book starts off in the old west, Hattie time-travels to modern day.  I look forward to the comments, which are all usually very encouraging.  I hope you continue to follow Hattie's saga and are as excited as I am to get it finished.  I'm closing in on the ending.  :)

Ginger's Six Sentence Sunday

Time for another six from my current WIP, Hattie's Hero, a western historical time-travel.  The picture is from my western blog logo at Cowboy Kisses.  Isn't he dreamy?

When you've finished leaving a comment (hint, hint), please had back to Six Sentence Sunday for more links.

Set up reminder: Hattie has grown up in an orphanage, answered an ad she found at the mercantile, and has just finished interviewing with the mister of the household and is now meeting the wife.

Mr. Franklin yanked his watch from his pocket again and checked the time. “I’ll leave you two to discuss the matter of caring for the children. I have business to tend involving the sale of the house and furniture.” Stepping closer to his wife, he leaned toward her ear. “She comes from the orphanage with no recommendations. Don’t confuse particulars with pity.”  

Thanks for stopping by, and I hope you'll come back next week.  I love sharing, and I'm definitely hooked on a few of the stories offered by others.

Ginger's Six Sentence Sunday

Since my site seemed to pick up interest with my time-travel, Sisters in Time, today I'm switching gears to my current WIP, Hattie's Hero which started as a western historical but has shockingly become another time-travel romance.  I'll be adding snippets as I create the story, so hopefully SSS will inspire me to hurry up and finish. As a "pantser", I'm discovering Hattie to be the hardest heroine I've worked with yet, so I appreciate your visit and comments.  Don't forget to go back to SSS and visit other sites where you'll find some great shares.

Set Up:  Planning to leave the orphanage, Hattie stands with a valise in hand and surveys the room filled with sleeping children.  Her heart's heavy, but as the oldest orphan there, it's time for her to begin new memories.

Here's my six from the opening chapter:

She [Hattie] had no recollection of life before coming to the orphanage and very few pleasant memories. The meager belongings she’d packed consisted of a second gray smock identical to the one she wore, another pair of stockings, well-worn pantalets, and a chemise yellowed with age. The only shoes she owned were on her feet. She stared down at the scuffed toes and sighed. The paper thin soles provided little protection, and she’d mended one of the laces by knotting the break. Would she ever own a pair that hadn’t been worn by someone else?

Thanks for coming by, and I hope you'll be back with encouragement to forge on with Hattie's journey and what lies ahead for her.