BookQuest
Terry Newman's Bookish Newsletter
I’m Terry Newman, author of romantic comedies with a splash of fantasy. Thank you for visiting my newsletter where I talk about my writing, books, and topics that have grabbed my
Flash Fiction: God’s Mysterious Ways
Father Greene’s cell phone jolted him out of a deep sleep. He fumbled for his phone, examining it bleary-eyed.
2:30 am.
Who needed counseling now at this ungodly hour (Forgive me, Lord)? His sleep wasn’t interrupted every night, but it wasn’t an unusual occurrence, either. A parishioner unable to sleep, plagued by some fear, asking for prayer.
Father Greene didn’t recognize the number. Not only that, it wasn’t a call, but a text message. How odd. He opened the app.
I miss you, baby. I’m so sorry. It was all my fault.
Smiling, the Catholic priest quickly told the person they had the wrong number.
The person responded almost instantly. Bridget, you can’t fool me. You’re no priest. Don’t toy with my feelings. Can I come over? We could talk. I’m looking forward to make up sex.
Father Greene frowned. No one ever talked to him like that. Still, the poor man.
He texted back. No, really. I’m not Bridget. I’m a priest.
He had just hit sent when the phone rang. The same number. He pushed the button. Before he could speak…
“Bridget, really are you—”
“Sir, I tried to tell you. You have the wrong number.”
It took a moment for the man to stop talking. “Excuse me,” he said, “Bridget? Where’s Bridget? Is she cheating on me?”
“Sir, I’m a priest.”
“She’s cheating on me with a priest? Put her on the phone now!”
“You have the wrong number.” The father used his sternest voice. The one that sent fear into heart of altar boys.
“Hold on. I’m getting a text,” the man said. An unnaturally long silence followed.
“Oh, my God. It’s from Bridget. She wants to get back together.”
The father made the sign of the cross.
“Wait,”—panic filled the stranger’s voice—“you really are a priest?”
“Yes, my son.”
“And I…let me make this up to you. What’s your church”
“Our Lady the Provider.”
“Do you accept online donations?”
“Yes, my son.” Father smiled.
“I’m looking you up online right now.” The click-clack of the keyboard sounded through the phone.
“There.” The stranger sighed. “I’ve just made a donation. A substantial one at that. I’m so sorry to have bothered you and accused you of…well, I’m sorry.”
“No worries, my son. Enjoy your make up sex.” The father disconnected the call.
Crawling back into bed, he looked up to heaven. “You certainly do work in mysterious ways.”
Beach Reads Season is in full swing.
And we’ve got twin celebrations going on.
First, Murphy’s Laws Murphy’s Laws is on sale for only $0.99. That’s right. You can download the book now, by clicking here to find your favorite online bookseller. Just in time to take it with you on vacation—or to your patio.
The book is also on tour. A virtual tour, that is. I’ve partnered with the fabulous Maia, at Silver Dagger Book Tours.
And you have the chance to win a $10 Amazon or PayPal gift card.
Click here to visit the post and enter the giveaway. While you’re there, check out some of the nearly 50 amazing sites Murphy’s Laws is visiting. You can even watch the book trailer.
What I’ve been reading…
Can you believe I’ve never read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?
Neither could I. And it’s been out in the U.S. since 1980. But I remedied that earlier this month. I loved it. It’s the most absurd thing I think I ever read. And I think everybody should read it. By the way, 42.
Currently, I’m reading The Marigold Mind Laundry, by Jungeun Yun (translated by Shanna Tan).
Jieun is born with powers she doesn’t understand. When she accidentally causes her family to disappear (oops!), she vows to live a million lives to find them.
She magically creates the mind laundry so people could remove the stains, that is sorrows, from their hearts.
With its own style, it’s an interesting and thought-provoking read. I highly recommend it.
What I’ve been up to…
I had a fantastic Mother’s Day.
My daughter and I went book shopping, enjoyed a great lunch and overall had a spectacular time.
The photo above shows you what I got. The ones stacked came from an independent bookstore. The two standing are from Barnes & Noble.
And a quick PSA: Independent book stores are vital to the life of every community. If you can, please visit the ones in your area.
I still spend the second Thursday of every month with my writing group.
They are a fantastic and extremely talented group of writers. We have a great time reading our stories and then writing prompts. This month’s flash fiction was a writing prompt from the group.
What I’ve been writing…
If you read my Fridays with Moose, you know I received my edits back from my editor. And I need to rework the story.
So I’ve decided to change the love story of Alvin and Cassidy. They say (I’m not sure who they are) the best way to get to know a character is to take them out of their comfort zone. So I’ll thrust Alvin out of his.
Perhaps Cassidy will pull him onto a dance floor. Or she’ll take him out golfing. After all, Cassidy is from Georgia. The home of the Masters.
I’m working on several other projects at the moment, so right now, I’m figuring out the logistics out in my head. But I’m excited about the potential for this story.
If you have any ideas of what Alvin could do that would be out of character, I’d love to hear them.
Rewrites of the Heart
In case you were wondering how Alex and Blake came to be…
…here’s the first chapter of Rewrites of the Heart.
Chapter 1
“Good morning, sunshine.”
That voice, even muffled, indistinct, and distant, sounded eerily familiar. Yet, JJ couldn’t quite place it. Had she imagined it? She held still a moment, as she tried to decide where she had heard it before.
Silence.
Shifting her weight, she snuggled her head deeper into the pillow of her crossed arms on the desk, rolled her chair about a bit, finding the perfect position and posture. Then, sighing deeply and contently, she prepared for the return of sleep.
As she floated in the dream-like world between sleep and wakefulness, she sensed she must have dozed off while working on her novel. Perhaps my sister is right, she thought, maybe I am working too hard. This was becoming a habit.
Nobody was calling her. Nobody needed her. She wrapped herself in the comfort of peaceful slumber. The manuscript could wait a little longer. All she needed was a few more minutes of glorious rest…and then…
“No use ignoring us.”
The voice cracked the silence like a hammer hitting a slab of ice. The words jolted her awake. She sprung into a full sitting position. It was the same voice again. She was sure of it. Only now it sounded closer than before, sharper, more commanding.
Another moment of silence—this time not so peaceful. She felt goose bumps run up her arms at the thought someone might actually be talking to her. She lived alone. How could anyone be calling her? Tension and fear paralyzed her. She tried to move an arm but couldn’t.
“We’re not going anywhere.”
She tried to blink away the blurred surroundings, to focus her eyes on her home office. She could feel the rhythm of her heart increase as it beat faster. The echoing of it in her chest vibrated with panic and pulsed through her body. Could it be she wasn’t alone?
She blinked several times more. It was difficult to focus. Last night’s long hours still fogged her thoughts. The scenes and the characters of her novel still dancing, center stage, through her head.
Her sense of reality languidly returned. Cobwebs stubbornly clung to the innermost recesses of her mind. She sat completely still for a moment longer, unnerved by the very possibility that someone was watching her.
Then slowly, eyes finally adjusting, she scrutinized her surroundings. She carefully surveyed the eclectic mix of elements that made this office a welcoming work room for her. She gazed at the mahogany bookcase against the far wall, filled with college history books and romance novels. The photos of her late husband and herself mounted above the credenza made her smile. She glanced at the man and woman on the loveseat blithely staring at her, before she turned her attention to the large pile of papers on her desk.
A couple sitting on her loveseat? Was that right? Her eyes immediately shot back to the pair. She gazed at them for what seemed like an eternity but was merely a few seconds.
“It’s about time you acknowledge our presence,” the man said.
She let out a blood-curdling scream and shot up out of the chair like a rocket, the full impact of what she saw finally hitting her. The stack of papers scattered aboutt the room like huge dandelion seeds on a windy day. The chair clunked down, falling to one side.
She couldn’t get out from behind the desk quickly enough. “W-w-who are you? How did you get in here?” She also wanted to know why they were drinking from her favorite coffee mugs, but that seemed far less the issue at the moment.
The man spoke first. “Why, you were right, love,” he said, directing his remarks to the woman sitting to his left. “She doesn’t recognize us.”
The young woman just smiled and sipped her beverage. Swallowing slowly, her gaze caught JJ’s. Then she looked at her companion. “Well, Blake, it’s not every day characters like us drop in out of the blue.”
The woman crossed her legs, lightly tugged at her red dress and glanced back at JJ with a smile that was so disarming she had to fight the urge to smile back.
“It really is a shame.”
“Indeed, Alex, you would think that she would know us instantly, now, wouldn’t you?” They continued to talk between themselves, purposely and calmly, ignoring her presence.
“No,” she said, “I don’t recognize you two because I don’t know who the hell you are or how the hell you got into my house.”
“But we know you.” The gentleman brought the cup tohis lips, but pausing before sipping. “You’re JJ Sprightly, the romance author.”
“H-h-how do you know me?”
Fearful of making any sudden moves, she slowly inched towards the telephone on the desk, ensuring she was within a hand’s reach of it. Instead of reaching for its receiver, though, she reached down, towards her foot.
She struggled to gain her composure and try to direct her mind to work. She felt as if her brain were scattered along the better part of two states. She wondered how she would defend herself if they were dangerous. She had read that high heels made an effective weapon. What was she wearing? Bunny slippers. She couldn’t hurt anyone in those things. When was the last time anyone had been “fluffed to death”? Still, she was hesitant to make any quick moves, not knowing what these two characters wanted.
“I’m Blake,” the man said flatly, as if that name should mean something to her. “Blake Teesdale.”
“And I’m Alex. Alex Zurich. Remember me?”
JJ leaned her head forward, scrutinizing the pair. “Oh. My. God. You’re not. You couldn’t be.”
The last thing she heard before she fainted was the man who called himself Blake say, “Didn’t see that one coming, did you, Alex?”
Want to read more? Why not download Rewrites of the Heart here right now?
Thanks for reading. Let me know what you’ve been reading this month.
this was fun!