Meet My Guest ~ Author ~ Mickie Sherwood
Today I have a very special guest, Author Mickie Sherwood. Please give her a warm welcome.
What is your favorite daily wear attire?
I regularly wear skorts, tops and sandals. I have to be comfortable in Louisiana’s humid weather.
Do you like dogs or cats?
Both, but I prefer dogs. You can read about my Pooh Pooh at my blog, and how he came into my life.
If I came to your home and looked inside the refrigerator, what would I find?
“Colddrinks”, eggs, bacon, fruits, last evening’s meal, beer, etc.
How many pairs of shoes do you own?
More than I can wear at any one time.
What’s your bad quality?
I’m a procrastinator.
Do you speak with your dog?
Of course, I do. But, the question is does he speak back? I believe he does by his head twisting mannerisms and paw slaps.
What is the craziest thing you’ve ever done?
As a child, I stuck a hairpin/bobby pin into an electrical socket—and lived to tell about it!
I’d like to thank Jennifer for this opportunity to share with her visitors.
It’s been my pleasure, Mickie. Now, let’s have a look at her work.
Like Slow Sweet Molasses
Teacher Angela Munso has lost control—of her spiraling life. She can control the fallout of recent news from whose loins she sprang as easily as she can her heart’s pitter-patter. To have feelings for a man who is everything she now wants to hate? That’s the last straw!
Lt. Brock “Chance” Alexander’s arrogance baits Angela. And—he knows it. It’s never so obvious to him as when she lobs that insulting phrase at the side of his head. She pushes all of his hot buttons. But, there’s one he dares her to touch—the one that pushes him out of her life.
Scene: Angela’s decision to surprise Chance for the holidays meets with a near disastrous conclusion.
…The plane, now so close he could see the mangled engine and read a couple of the bold I.D. letters exposed on the belly of the beast, whooshed over his head.
The rescuers loaded up to trail it down the runway dangerously close to the scattering debris and leaping sparks. Chance felt wind gusts from the reverse thrusters and heard the groaning brakes trying to stop the behemoth prior to its running out of runway. As soon as it came to rest, half on-half off, he was a missile in sight of its target. There was no stopping him from entering the chaos of the tangled hoses snaking the grounds, spraying foam on the heated skin of the plane and its engine. Billowing smoke teared his eyes and heavy acrid smells burned his nostrils. The excited voices exiting the slides on the other side of the plane was a magnificent boost to his dwindling morale for there was hope Angela was one of them.
Angela hit the slide for the daring escape glad to be alive to feel the pain along her cheekbones where her knees repetitively hit with every stomp of the brakes. Fresh air had her gasping as she crashed into fleeing bodies log jammed at the bottom of the ramp. A foot pool cued her. Yells of distress echoed gloomily, dicing to bits the smoggy night surrounding the plane. She forced herself to crawl over the side of the inflated tube and chanced a drop of about five feet. As it was not her time to die, it was also not her time to break a bone as she thudded to the ground below. Rescue workers flagged red cone sticks at the able-bodied passengers pointing them to the escape route along perimeter for transport to safety by bus.
She waited her turn in line, looking back at the red hot smoldering plane as teams worked furiously to get everyone off, coping with the turmoil of the close call. The sparking bulbs on the life jackets were lightning bugs in the night, playing hide and seek with the darkness. People still gagged and choked for oxygen because of evaporating combustibles while scampering to load the transits. Cries and commands battled each other for attention in the terror-ridden blackness. That noise receded into the background as a familiar voice sliced through the din of racket.
“Angela!” Chance’s throat was raw from screaming her name. People coming out of the darkness, their beacons of hope flashing wildly were one race: sooty. “Angela!” Every call deposited an awful tasting residue in his mouth.
“Chance!” Her heart beat madly. “Chance, over here.” It was impossible to see very far in the murkiness.
“Keep talking, Angel.” The lines strung every which way threw him down to his knees where he crawled a good distance. “I’m coming.”
What captured his attention was her light blipping where her heart was as she materialized from the hazy cloud. He was on his feet, running to her, arms wide open. “I’ve got you,” he reassured when she rammed into his chest, her touch sapping the oxygen from his lungs making it hard for him to catch a breath. “I’ve got you.”
I’m a cruise-loving, people-watching, picture-snapping baby boomer with time on her hands. So, I write sweet and spicy relationship-based mainstream contemporary romantic love stories.
Red Rose Publishing: http://redrosepublishing.com/books/index.php?manufacturers_id=255