Every family is dysfunctional. That’s my opinion after becoming a die-hard people watcher. How do you measure the odd behavior of people, especially behind closed doors.
I recently remarked on my feelings and got an argument from a close friend who declares her family is normal. There is nothing remarkable about anyone in her large family. Of course, you have to eliminate the aunts who didn’t talk for years but have since made-up. The drug-addict cousins don’t count either since they went on the wagon with the alcoholic uncle who beat his first and second wife until they divorced him. No-one is in jail right now either.
Are you laughing? I did bite back a smile and nod in agreement since I like her.
My own family is a prime example of ‘normal’. No-one aired dirty linen in public when I was growing up. The heavily drinking uncles who had a mean streak after too many, the aunt who divorced four husbands, the cousin who stole a car or the pregnant fifteen year old all were kept in the family closet.
Now people publish all this stuff on FaceBook or MySpace without a qualm and others read it and accept the dysfunction as regular business.
Why do I care? I guess I want to understand. Why does an abused wife stay with that creep? Why does a person choose to get lost in drugs? Or the opposite: why does an addict decide a sober life is worth fighting for?
Every action needs to make sense to me. That comes from plotting and writing stories about people. My hero has a reason for loving to run. My heroine has a reason to be afraid of being followed. So I study those around me. I take that tiny scrap of over-heard conversation and build a whole background for the speaker.
Do I use what I learn? Gosh, I wish I could but so much is a tiny fragment of the puzzle. Do you see the hidden parts of those around you?
Visit my website: http://www.barbaraedwards.net
In Ancient Awakening, Police Officer ‘Mel’ Petersen investigates a death only she believes is murder. By disobeying direct orders from the Rhodes End Chief, she risks her career to follow clues that twist in circles to her backyard and lead the killer to her.
Her neighbor Stephen Zoriak is a prime suspect. Steve worked for a major pharmaceutical company where he discovered a weapon so dangerous he destroys the research. He is exposed to the dangerous organism. He suspects he is the killer and agrees to help her find the truth.
In the course of their investigation Mel and Steve find the real killer and a love that defies death.
“Don’t touch me, Mel, not unless you’re willing to do a lot more,” he warned as her hazel eyes flared golden.
“Don’t threaten me, Steve. You’re…”
He pulled her into his arms despite the alarm bells clanging in his head.
Danger! Danger! Danger!
Her widened eyes met his. Mel’s hands were trapped against his chest, but she didn’t push him away. Instead, her fingers curled into his shirt.
Her mistake. His mistake was to crush her mouth under his.
Mel’s soft lips parted. Need exploded. The taste of black coffee didn’t hide her sweet flavor. As her tongue tangled with his, her arms slid around his neck and her fingers burrowed through his hair.
Steve hungered to peel the starched shirt off her soft shoulders, lay her on the thick turf and ease his desire. He tasted her brows, her cheek, along her throat, seeking the source of her call. Her pulse whipped under his mouth, awakening another need.
His teeth gently closed on the vulnerable vein.
He wanted, wanted, wanted…
Cold alarm chilled his pounding blood.
Steve gasped for air. He’d forgotten his own ironclad rule. Mel’s eyelids flittered open to reveal the molten glow of desire but he forced himself free.
He had no right to touch any woman. Not until he knew he hadn’t become what he had set out to destroy.
The Wild Rose Press: Ancient Awakening, a Black Rose
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