Monday – November 26, 2012

I hope a safe and enjoyable Thanksgiving was had by all, even though for some Sandy victims I doubt that was the case.

I received a comment about the last muse from a woman who said “No Commitments” was probably just a book about guys flying fighter planes. I was in a rush this week, so I decided to post the prologue to the book in the hopes that it demonstrates there is more to it than that.  Actually, women seem to like it more than guys.                                               PROLOGUE

Clay got up a little unsteadily. He ambled over to the edge of the terrace and looked out over the valley. The air was shimmering from the dry, furnace-hot heat of the sirocco. “It’s hot, he said. “Fires are breaking out in the pines again. If we don’t get some rain soon, this whole mountain may go up in smoke. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to get down the road to the airport in the morning.”

“That would be fantastic!” Marianna said, as she walked over beside him, slipped under his arm, and gave him a little squeeze around his waist. “We could spend the whole day in bed, just like we used to in Cagnes. Remember?” He looked down at her with a smile that told her that he loved her. “You do remember those days in Cagnes, don’t you Clay; our squalid little flat; you tending bar and hustling your ass off for a lousy couple a hundred francs a week? We were happy then. Everything was so simple. Life was fun. I don’t know how we let ourselves get so messed up. Or why things have to be so complicated. It seems so much has happened these past few years I can hardly remember how it all began.”

He looked out over the valley again. Out ahead of him, as far as he could see, the grain fields were scorched and yellow. Below him the pine trees were smoldering and burning their way toward the range of mountains far off to his left. He looked toward the jutting peninsula of Antibes, only faintly visible in the haze, and he pointed beyond, toward Nice and the sea. “It began right out there,” he said quietly. “Remember…I was low on gas and had to land? It’ll be five years ago tomorrow – Bastille Day.”

Thanks for stopping by



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