As I watch the weather report another clipper is throwing a blizzard across the country. I breath a sigh of relief that I’m in sunny Florida. Except its not so bright.
The red flag means no boating, dangerous conditions. The waves are up to eleven feet and hitting the edge of the boardwalk
here on St George Island. Despite the rain and wind, I expect sunshine to return before the snow melts back home.
Stay safe. Keep warm. Drive carefully,
Love, Barbara
#Sale Late for the Wedding a Christmas Love story by Barbara Edwards A blizzard, a car crash and a handsome hero http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=5937#.VHNU74EZ5WU.gmai
Excerpt:
She strained to see past the broken windshield. Her throat hurt when she swallowed. 
Other vehicles lay tangled in a mess, not just the truck and her car. She prayed another car wouldn’t hit her again and inhaled to calm her racing pulse. She finally got the seatbelt lock to release, forced her door open and stood. Her knees shook and she had to hang onto the sagging door for support. She stared around. Headlights glittered like monster eyes. Her vehicle was at the edge of a horrendous multi-car pile-up.
Sirens wailed like lost children. Blinding red and blue lights flashed everywhere as emergency personnel rushed by. Her hands shook as she dragged on her cashmere coat. Time squeezed and expanded like an accordion being played. A fireman asked if she was okay and ran on at her nod.
She brushed moisture from her face and realized she was crying. She pillowed her head on her arm, the roof supporting her as she wept.
“Hey, lady, you okay?” A gentle hand gripped her shoulder.
This time the questioner stopped to listen.
She looked up into scorching blue eyes so bright they could have been a propane flame. Her skin warmed and her pulse leaped as if it recognized the message in them. They promised heat and comfort and strength like the hand on her shoulder. He’d pulled his knit hat down over his forehead and his lower face was covered with dark stubble that matched his thick black eyelashes. His hands were splotched with grease and he smelled like oil and fuel fumes. His quilted jacket was stained and patched, his boots wet and cracked, but he exuded strength and caring.
She swallowed. Her mouth was suddenly dry. Another fixer-upper, like her ex, she briefly thought, although with those gorgeous eyes he might be worth the trouble.
Barbara Edwards Comments 