BOOKMARKS & MAGNETS

I have BOOKMARKS and MAGNETS! If you want one (or both) for FREE, send me your mailing address to gracen.miller@yahoo.com. If you're involved in a reader's group and want a bookmark for each member, please let me know in the email how many you need so I can send them. Photos of Bookmark & Magnet are below:

FRONT ~ BACK

MAGNET

DECADENT'S KINDLE CONTEST

Want a chance to win a KINDLE? Well, here's your chance. Decadent Publishing will be at Coffee Time Romance (http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/) all day on February 1st. They'll be giving away a KINDLE with 6 preloaded books. So don't miss your opportunity to walk away a winner!

This is NOT my contest and I don't guarantee any of you will win the Kindle from Decadent Publishing, but you won't have a chance to win unless you visit Coffee Time Romance on Tuesday, February 1st! Good luck and I hope to see some of you there!

A NEW (very easy) contest begins on February 1st!
A NEW Life Lesson posts on February 4th!

Huggles,
Gracen

LIFE LESSON FIVE...

Being bad was exciting! Maybe she should feel guilty? She couldn't dredge up the emotion, especially not when she felt so free.

She liked Jack Moore and not because of his traditional good looks, fabulous body, brown hair and warm brown eyes. Although a jock—which she equated with primitive barbaric cavemen beating their chests—Jack came across as a big ole' teddy bear; not what she envisioned. It was a good lesson in not judging a book by its cover.

"You know what I can't figure out is why such a hot girl like you doesn't have a boyfriend?" he asked, his eyes eating her up as quickly as he slurped on his milkshake. That look warmed her belly because no one ever looked at her this way.

Except for Nikolas at church, her evil inner-self reminded. After three weeks of lost sleep because of him, she refused to think further on Nikolas.

She swallowed and forced her thoughts off the blond church hottie. Contemplating, Jack's comment and his wide-eyed, eat her up stare, she feared she waded into waters deep enough to drown her. Excitement poured through her at the prospect!

No one in her own age bracket undressed her with their eyes and according to Daddy all the old folks in the church were perverts. She still wasn't sure she believed him. Lately, she'd begun to think his perception skewed and he needed a new filter.

Ridiculous really for someone as spectacular as Jack to think someone as gawky as her even passably hot. Madison wouldn't tell him the truth, that no boy had ever shown any interest in her. He might think she fished for compliments.

Either way, she liked the way he stared at her. And she liked that he thought her hot. Inside she preened, but played his comment cool—or hoped she did—with a small smile and casual shrug. "My daddy doesn't allow me to date," she said as she slathered a French fry with ketchup.

"Too bad."

Yeah, too bad, because she thought getting to know Jack Moore would lead to a whole lot of fun.

And a whole lot of bad, Madison Wescott, her sanctimonious inner voice chided.

Madison watched him watch her, his eyes following the fry from the plate to her mouth. She licked ketchup off her finger and his eyes grew shiny with some emotion her naïve mind couldn't process. Jack reached across the table and took her hand. A hot flush slithered through her body and she stared at his hand laid over hers.

He turned her hand over, palm side up and touched the tips of each fingertip. Tongue-tied, her other palm grew sweaty. Madison couldn't decide if she liked this new feeling or if it ranked right up there with puking. Nikolas breached her mind, how flushed and jittery she had grown from his simple touch. Nikolas's much simpler than Jack's, and, yet, her reaction to his way more potent. So potent she couldn't get him out of her mind even three weeks later.

"Do you think you could talk your daddy into letting me see you again?" He created lazy circles across her palm.

Doubtful. Instead of answering with the truth, she attempted a casual one-shoulder shrug she'd seen Momma pull off a million times and said, "Maybe it'd be more fun if he doesn't know about us."

Oh, good Lord, she would be in a load of trouble when Daddy discovered her sinful behavior. She had no doubt he'd discover her actions.

At least you'll be guilty of it this time, the devilish inner-voice murmured.

Jack Moore grinned. He obviously liked being bad too.

He walked her out to his pickup truck. Proving chivalry wasn't dead he opened the passenger door for her. He halted her by slapping his hand on the doorframe, barring her entrance into the cab. She met his eyes and caught more of that puzzling shiny-eyed glaze. He stared at her mouth for a long time before asking, "Would you object if I kissed you, Madison?"

Not trusting her voice, she shook her head hard. Nerves ripped through her nervous system and she forgot to breathe as she watched his head lower. His mouth struck hers and she stared at him, his eyes closed, and his forehead furrowed as if in deep pain.

His hand dropped from the door and cupped her neck, while his other hand landed on her hip, pulling her closer. She was in danger of her heart ramming out of her chest. She flinched in surprise when his tongue licked her lips and the thumb at her neck, relocated to her chin and tugged downward, parting her mouth.

Madison sucked in a hard shocked breath when his tongue touched hers. She knew about French kissing, she wasn't that big a dweeb, but she hadn't expected him to try it on her.

Madison jerked out of Jack Moore's embrace. Breathing hard, she touched her lips and stared at him.

"I'm sorry if I went too fast." He released her as if she burst into flames, took a couple of steps away from her and raked a hand through his hair. "You just…enthrall me with your beauty and innocence. The combination is attractive." No idea what to say, she stared at him mute, with diverse emotions chugging through her. Finally, he cleared his throat and asked, "Can I see you again?"

Definitely!

Time to play coy like Momma, she decided and executed what she hoped came across as one of Momma's sultry smiles and said, "If you're lucky."



© Gracen Miller 2011 ~ No part of this site may be reproduced in anyway whatsoever without express written consent by Gracen Miller.

LIFE LESSON FOUR

Dreamboat Jack Moore winked at her. Shocked, Madison tripped and spilled her books, causing a mini-traffic jam in the hall in-between class. She could be such an ignoramus! No grace, no style, just a bumbling too-tall lummox.

She knelt to retrieve her books and for the millionth time wished she inherited Momma's classy grace. Socially inept and friendless—unless she counted Mr. Syler her foreign language teacher who praised her talent for tongues—she dreamed of being someone special, someone worthy of someone dreamy like Jack Moore the football star.

In this small, hick town Jack Moore rivaled the fame of the Messiah. An all-around star athlete, he played almost every sport. As the football quarterback, he threw touchdown after touchdown and they won a 6-A Championship. Now with basketball underway, and the high scorer for every game, he touted basket making fame. High-aspirations set on his shoulders and town folks predicted Jack Moore would lead the basketball team to a Championship as well. If he succeeded, he would become a local legend.

Local celebrities don't wink at graceless fools like you. He winked at someone else, someone with more class, she reminded herself.

No other explanation could account for his wink. It'd been her bad luck to catch his eye when he executed the move. How foolish of her to think he would be interested in her.

"Let me help," a deep voice said and Madison peeked up, fervently praying Jack Moore didn't hang around to witness her gawkiness.

Just her luck, he did!

Jack Moore held one of her notebooks toward her. This up close, she noticed his eyes weren't just a syrupy shade of brown, but sparkled with green and gold flecks. As she took the notebook from him, he gave her a small smile.

"Thank you," she muttered, growing hot and her belly jittery by his nearness and his direct stare.

"Yeah," he said with a shrug.

Madison quickly lowered her eyes and stacked books. A nameless shoe kicked one of her books. It struck her heel and, unbalanced, she toppled, sprawling on the floor with all the grace of a newborn foal.

"Watch it!" Jack Moore yelled at the book-bombing-offender as the late bell rang for class.

Great, just great! She'd be late for Math. If Daddy found out, he'd clobber her.

Like a good southern gentleman, he took her arm and helped her to her feet. "Some people have no manners," he said by way of apology, as if he could be held responsible for her clumsiness.

Madison fiddled with her hair, a nervous tick she couldn't control. "MmmHmm, thanks for your help. I gotta get to class."

"Wait!" He still clutched her arm, so she wasn't going anywhere fast. She wrapped her hair tighter around her finger and his gaze was drawn to her reaction. He swallowed fast, and his voice cracked on his first syllable. Madison smiled inside, glad he wasn't as perfect as she originally thought. He cleared his throat and asked, "You wanna skip class and go get a milkshake, Madison?"

He knew her name?!?!

Only if the apocalypse started today would she have been more stunned! Not only did football/basketball star Jack Moore know her name, he wanted to skip school with her? Didn't that go against every social edict in effect? Not to mention he could be suspended from a game for skipping school? The town would be displeased if that happened.

"With you?" She groaned silently and mentally kicked herself. Couldn't she have come up with something more intelligent than the obvious?

Jack Moore chuckled. "Yeah, with me, unless you've got a jealous boyfriend already."

He lifted his hand toward her face and then halted as if he thought better of whatever he planned to do. Awkward silence tore between them as he lowered his hand.

"I'm a sophomore." More obvious statements, Madison!

He grinned. "Yeah, so?"

"So you're a senior." And the last time she checked, seniors didn't hang out with sophomores. Especially no account sophomores like her.

"Yeah, and?"

"I didn't think sophomores and seniors socialized." She pulled her books to her body, a defensive mechanism to protect herself, another nervous tick of hers, more proof she wasn't socially glib like Momma.

He leaned toward her as if he would impart a grave secret and his voice dropped to a husky tenor, "Who says we can't break the rules?"

Daddy said she couldn't break the rules. But Daddy also said she was a sinner and her soul was damned to burn. Sounded like there was no hope for her either way and trying to be good and failing repeatedly grew old.

"My Daddy wouldn't approve."

"You always a good girl, Madison?"

Depended upon whom he asked, but she managed to bite her tongue before the words slipped out. Daddy would say she was the whore of Sodom and Gomorrah. Momma thought she was a good girl, but the way Momma said it made it sound unfavorable. Madison didn't know what to think. She just wanted to escape home and sanctimonious Daddy prison.

"No, not always," she heard herself say as if she were outside herself listening in, because, Dear God, she sounded like Momma! Her voice low and raspy, sultry and provocative, and so unlike herself! So not the way a good girl sounded.

His grin deepened. "What's your favorite flavor?" he asked and plucked her books from her arm, assuming just like that she was ready and willing to skip school with the town celebrity. And as if she was ready and willing to walk on the wild side of life and disobey Daddy. "Strawberry is my favorite."

"Chocolate," she said a touch breathless and let him lead her astray, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

LIFE LESSON THREE…

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LIFE LESSON THREE...

"Can't you just feel the presence of Christ!" Daddy flung his arm up toward the ceiling, fingers spread wide and he grinned, his brown eyes shiny with the spirit. "Can I get an Amen?"

Yanked from bed before dawn to attend Daddy's special "Celebrate Christ at Dawn" Christmas sermon, Madison scanned the sanctuary as several vociferous "amen's" circulated. Hiding a yawn behind her hand, she did a little eye-roll because all this hoopla seemed a little over dramatized. And she felt the presence of nothing. Nadda. Zippo. Zilch. So either these people were piling it on thick, or Christ skipped her, which wouldn't be surprising since she was such a sinner damned to Hell.

One of the Brannon brothers winked at her and she did a double take. A slow, amused grin dragged Nolan's lips into a roguish curl. When Marcus realized they held her attention, he joined his brother's exploits and blew her a tiny kiss, but an even more blatant wink. Unsure what to make of their attention, she knew but one thing, they were trouble with a capital T. Twins, so double the trouble. Single, with dark brown hair and smoky eyes, good-looking, tall and exceptionally well-formed physically. They were in their early twenties and usually a scarce commodity around Daddy's church. From her untrained eye, they attended church for but one reason, to meet ladies. They were definitely not godly men.

She snapped her gaze forward and she thought one of the brothers nudged the other brother. A small and barely discernable snicker followed from their direction, proving her suspicion. No way did she want Daddy catching any wink or grin the Brannon brothers sent her way. She didn't wish to serve pittance on this one day a year Daddy could usually be found in a boisterous mood.

Antsy to vacate church, Madison shifted from foot-to-foot as they sung a ga-billion songs, did a bunch of praying and thanking the Lord for His gift of Christ. Madison would thank him a lot more if he'd guarantee her a spot in Heaven instead of the hot seat Daddy was convinced she'd receive. She didn't understand why they had to work so hard for it or why everything was so sinful.

I mean, sheesh, thinking a sin is as good as committing the sin. How unfair! Especially when she could think things she would never dream of actually doing.

One freaking rule and she was already sunk! Those kinds of rules left her thinking she might as well embrace her fiery resting place. She just hadn't worked up the nerve to be as bad as Daddy thought she was yet.

Maybe instead of carving R.I.P. on her tombstone, someone would be clever enough to carve R.I.F. for Resting In Fire. It'd be poetic in nature, right? Knowing Daddy would disapprove of her thoughts, a tiny mental smile flickered bright in her mind's eye.

Finally Daddy called for the closing hymn and invited church members to join him at the front in prayer. And wouldn't you know it, more than three dozen members trickled down the aisle. The congregation sung Victory in Jesus until her eyes crossed and she sounded like a marathon sprinter at the victory line. The entire congregation sounded breathless by the time Daddy called for a halt and wished everyone a safe and Merry Christmas. In their house, Daddy insisted they say Christ-mas instead of Christmas because Christmas took Christ out of the holiday. Apparently, she didn't have Christ in her heart, so what'd she care who was celebrated on Christmas?

As Daddy strode down the aisle, he motioned with his finger for her to join him. In her haste to scuttle off the bench after him, she dumped her purse onto the floor and the contents scattered. She sent up a prayer of thanks that it wasn't that time of the month and no personal hygiene products were dispersed into plain view.

With a swipe of her forearms, she dragged all the pieces toward her. Not wanting to give Daddy any reason to be angry—if he wasn't already because he never beckoned her to join him immediately after a service—she crammed the items hurriedly into her purse.

"Yours, I presume," a male voice said.

Madison noticed his hand first and her pink lip gloss in his open palm. She realized he knelt between the pews with her and she followed the arm to a face that left her breathless and...

Speechless, she stared at a face wrapped in agelessness, so void of the subtle nuances of time not even the corners of his eyes were marred by laugh lines. Silly poetic gibberish maybe, but true nevertheless.

How could she not have noticed him when he sat down beside her? To say he was blonde haired and blue eyed, didn't do him justice. But she finally understood the meaning of a wide sensuous mouth. No harsh angles spoiled his countenance; he would never be accused of a handsome ruggedness.

Dressed in what looked like a navy blue Armani suit—Momma was a fashionista when it came to labels, so she knew a thing or two about high-priced designer suits—the color suited his complexion and enhanced his amazing shade of beautiful blue eyes. Arctic blue ice would be envious of the color, and she thought Daddy's prized angels would brawl for the opportunity to look as good as he did for a measly hour.

In every language she knew—which was a lot given her bizarre talent for tongues—his gaze didn't whisper, but hollered he coveted her very inappropriately. Madison licked her lips as a mysterious malady sucker punched her low, very low, in the gut. The feeling wasn't bad, just disconcerting in her inability to identify its origins. She'd be remiss if she didn't admit she liked the way he gazed at her.

A smile tweaked the edges of his much too wicked mouth. The smile hinted of familiarity or pride, she couldn't decide which. And it hinted he knew her or would come to know her intimately, which was highhanded on his part, but…she kind of liked that too. Weirder than that, a tangible hum prickled her flesh kind of like a wispy breeze. Nothing as bold as a caress. His presence induced an even weirder sense of wellbeing, which tugged at her need for security and acceptance.

For a brief moment she let her mind fantasize what it'd be like to have those lips on hers. He'd be a strong kisser, maybe a little rough, a lot demanding because something about him said he wouldn't know how to coax anyone gently.

Madison gulped at her inappropriate thoughts in church and in the presence of Christ—or so Daddy said he was here. Not wishing to press her luck, she blanked her mind and retrieved her lipstick. Liquid fast, heat trekked from her belly into her limbs as her fingertips connected with his palm. She froze, felt caged, spellbound by some unexplainable lull. Unable to blink, she stared into his eyes as erotic flashes of soft sighs and naked flesh imprinted on the back of her eyelids.

A hard gasp lodged in her chest and burned the back of her throat as she coughed it back. She yanked her hand away and his knowing smile grew wider.

"I'm Nikolas," he said low and raspy—a bedroom voice, perhaps?—an inflection she shouldn't have noticed because she had no experience to draw on.

Clutching the lip gloss between her breasts, she stared at him, flummoxed by the idea he knew what just traipsed through her mind. God, she hoped he didn't know!

"I'm…outta here!" she said and bolted after Daddy. No way would she give him her name.

The chatter in the sanctuary clattered to an abrupt halt. Madison glanced about—taking special care not to look at him!—and realized the entire congregation stared in awe at him. She cast a quick peep in his direction and her heartbeat tripped. He stared at her with such satisfaction it bewildered her, especially since he didn't even know her. Before she turned away, Momma sashayed to his side and laid her palm on his shoulder. He didn't spare Momma even a twitch of a glance as she spoke to him—what she couldn't make out—but, he nodded and kept his gaze pinned on her.

A shiver coursed down her spine and Madison resisted a wiggle to work the shiver out. Flustered, she clenched her purse strap and went to help Daddy say goodbye to his parishioners. She numbly set her tongue and vocal chords to repeat "Merry Christ-mas!" in as chipper of a voice as she could manufacture. All the while praying he wouldn't come through her line on his exit out of church. The bawdy imagery troubled her too much to face the blonde hottie, so much she'd probably blush when she looked in the mirror.

Again she possessed no visual expertise of sex to draw on for such images to even penetrate her subconscious. Daddy didn't allow her to watch movies or television that glorified sex—which meant pretty much everything was off limits—so for her to actually envision such carnality…oh, God, she was the tramp Daddy said she was. And to make matters worse, her fingertips still tingled in awareness from touching…Nikolas!

A name to haunt her…but she had a feeling the man would torment her more.

CONTESTS

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LIFE LESSON TWO...

Daddy didn't forget. She should've known he wouldn't.

Madison set her Holy Bible beside her on the backseat and snapped her belt buckle into place. Daddy and Momma slid into the front, but Daddy didn't start the ignition. Instead, he swiveled to face her, one arm flattened along the bench seat of the Cadillac. His pose implied a casual undertone, but his eyes crinkled at the corners and his mouth pinched in a white line of displeasure. Maybe anger. Either way, she was about to find. She clamped her teeth together and waited for his explosion.

"Even after I singled out your despicable behavior, you still failed to modify it."

Madison's hands trembled as she laced her fingers together in her lap. He'd pointed out his shame, but she still didn't have the foggiest idea what blame lay at her feet. "I'm unsure of which behavior you speak, Daddy."

Momma sighed dramatically in the passenger seat, flipped the sun-visor down and popped open the mirror. Madison caught her gaze in the mirror as Momma pretended to peer at herself, running the pad of her middle finger along the outer edge of her mouth as if she corrected her lipstick. Her lipstick was perfect. It was always perfect because Momma didn't settle for less than perfect.

"Are you guilty of so much you pretend not to know your sins?" Daddy asked. His hand curled into a tight fist and she held his stare, not daring to lower her eyes for fear the action would indicate acknowledgement of guilt.

"Bruce, women are inherently sultry creatures," Momma said in her silky voice, the one reserved for when she wanted something pricey and Daddy pretended they didn't have the money. Madison flashed a surprised glance at her because she'd used that voice and Momma rarely defended her. Momma's reflection winked and executed a slow, assured half smile, as if they shared a provocative secret.

And then her brain snagged on the one word in the sentence that answered all her questions…sultry. She wasn't sultry and she wasn't trying to be sultry. Is that what Daddy thought she was doing? She wanted to be average and unnoticeable, but no matter how hard she tried, five-foot-nine girls were always noticeable.

"Half the men in church were lusting after her, Celeste. I saw the way she licked her lips at Harold Beeker, how his eyes widened, his nostrils flared and—" Daddy's voice lowered to a scandalized whisper, "—how he adjusted himself!"

Adjusted himself?…Oh, gross! She sure hoped Daddy didn't think Harold Beeker got aroused because of her!

"I didn't—" she said, but Daddy's withering glare terminated her argument.

"It's embarrassing to have such pious men fornicating with her in their mind," Daddy said in a horrid whisper to Momma as if he didn't want to air family laundry to any of his pious church goers—bunch of uppity-ups if anyone asked her. Not that any church members were present, they'd all vacated over an hour ago. "The Wescott dirty little secret," he sneered. "My daughter's got the devil in her and my church members—women included—want a piece of her ass!" Madison gasped, but Daddy didn't acknowledge her shock. "It's a lot like trying to manage Sodom and Gomorrah."

Tears stung her eyes, she tried to blink them back, but Momma's reflection smirked. A strange reaction, but she couldn't focus on her odd behavior because what Daddy said not only horrified her, but terrified her too. It couldn't be true. Couldn't! If it was, she couldn't face anyone in church ever again without dying of mortification!

"Bruce…" Momma said in a placating tone. She ran her fingertips across Daddy's jaw and into his hair. Daddy visibly shuddered as if Momma's touch eviscerated him with exquisite pleasure. "You're being melodramatic and you sound ridiculous. Madison is a good girl. She is your daughter," she said, scrunching her features into a brief disgusted expression. Did Momma think being a 'good girl' a bad thing?

"I don't want to be bad," Madison said, her voice hitching on her final word and she fought to hold back tears.

Daddy snorted and looked at her. "Madison, your soul is so damned, I would suggest you pray and pray hard."

Momma rolled her eyes and snapped the sun-visor shut. "Bruce, e—nough," Momma said in a tone neither of them ever dared to gainsay. Daddy huffed and jerked around to face the front of the car. As he jabbed the key in the ignition, Momma looked at her and said, "Madison, you're soul is destined for eternity in the ultimate kingdom." She reached across the seat and squeezed one of Madison's hands as she tried to wipe away the tears with the back of her other hand. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes, M'am." Not really, but Momma didn't want to hear that any more than Daddy wanted to hear her arguments.


© Gracen Miller 2010 ~ No part of this site may be reproduced in anyway whatsoever without express written consent by Gracen Miller.