Comments on: Round Six! http://www.karintabke.com/blog/2009/01/round-six-2/ Author of Sensual Romance Tue, 09 Mar 2010 03:59:11 -0500 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.8.6 hourly 1 By: wooden gates http://www.karintabke.com/blog/2009/01/round-six-2/comment-page-1/#comment-702793 wooden gates Mon, 16 Mar 2009 21:43:49 +0000 http://www.karintabke.com/blog/?p=651#comment-702793 I don't normally comment on blogs but your post was a real help. Thank you for a great topic, I will be sure to bookmark your site and check it out again. Cheers, Amy xXx. I don’t normally comment on blogs but your post was a real help. Thank you for a great topic, I will be sure to bookmark your site and check it out again. Cheers, Amy xXx.

]]> By: Contests in the blogosphere « Adventures in Romance http://www.karintabke.com/blog/2009/01/round-six-2/comment-page-1/#comment-678885 Contests in the blogosphere « Adventures in Romance Fri, 23 Jan 2009 20:04:54 +0000 http://www.karintabke.com/blog/?p=651#comment-678885 [...] very first round. But I like to check in every week to see which ones made it to the next round. Karin Tabke’s blog Rachelle Chase’s Chase the Dream contest: Enter the first 1000 words of your romance [...] [...] very first round. But I like to check in every week to see which ones made it to the next round. Karin Tabke’s blog Rachelle Chase’s Chase the Dream contest: Enter the first 1000 words of your romance [...]

]]> By: bria http://www.karintabke.com/blog/2009/01/round-six-2/comment-page-1/#comment-678594 bria Fri, 23 Jan 2009 04:05:21 +0000 http://www.karintabke.com/blog/?p=651#comment-678594 Seven lockers down, my boyfriend was making out with Cheryl, the way-too-perky head cheerleader. I tried not to stare, but when his hand slid past her waist and over her hip, I slammed my locker shut and stormed off in the opposite direction. Not that anyone noticed. The problem – not only was I that gorgeous jock’s secret girlfriend, I also had a secret power. I’m invisible. OK, not <i>invisible</i> invisible. Seven lockers down, my boyfriend was making out with Cheryl, the way-too-perky head cheerleader.

I tried not to stare, but when his hand slid past her waist and over her hip, I slammed my locker shut and stormed off in the opposite direction. Not that anyone noticed. The problem – not only was I that gorgeous jock’s secret girlfriend, I also had a secret power.

I’m invisible.

OK, not invisible invisible.

]]> By: Randy http://www.karintabke.com/blog/2009/01/round-six-2/comment-page-1/#comment-678572 Randy Fri, 23 Jan 2009 02:35:11 +0000 http://www.karintabke.com/blog/?p=651#comment-678572 Looking back, my mid-life crisis began on a Tuesday in March, right there on aisle twelve of the local supermarket between the laxatives and the condoms. That’s the day I confronted an assortment of tampon boxes and wondered if my diminishing egg production warranted the forty-eight count economy size. See, I worried about a future when the half-empty box, now faded and kinda tattered around the edges, still sat beneath the sink ready to mock me every time I reached for a hair dryer or fresh roll of TP. “Can I help you find something, ma’am?” “Yeah, could you put out an APB on my youth?” A rhetorical question, but when the kid gasped and made a move as though to summon the men in white suits, I dredged up a reassuring smile. Looking back, my mid-life crisis began on a Tuesday in March, right there on aisle twelve of the local supermarket between the laxatives and the condoms. That’s the day I confronted an assortment of tampon boxes and wondered if my diminishing egg production warranted the forty-eight count economy size. See, I worried about a future when the half-empty box, now faded and kinda tattered around the edges, still sat beneath the sink ready to mock me every time I reached for a hair dryer or fresh roll of TP.

“Can I help you find something, ma’am?”

“Yeah, could you put out an APB on my youth?” A rhetorical question, but when the kid gasped and made a move as though to summon the men in white suits, I dredged up a reassuring smile.

]]> By: Ginny Glass http://www.karintabke.com/blog/2009/01/round-six-2/comment-page-1/#comment-678540 Ginny Glass Fri, 23 Jan 2009 01:05:29 +0000 http://www.karintabke.com/blog/?p=651#comment-678540 They had been in the interrogation room for twelve hours straight. He hadn’t left, not even to get coffee or a donut or to tag team in his partner for that whole good cop-bad-cop game. Mia’s eyes were dangerously heavy and though she had propped her chin in alternate hands for the last few hours, both of her biceps were beginning to feel like three day old spaghetti. Across the table, the detective stared that same level stare, the green of his eyes striking her like a backhanded slap. “I’ve already told you,” she said, exhaustion slurring the edges of her speech,” my name isn’t Bridget, it’s Mia.” A days' growth of beard shadowed his jaw, the only sign that he was any worse for wear from their time in this cinder block hell hole. They had been in the interrogation room for twelve hours straight. He hadn’t left, not even to get coffee or a donut or to tag team in his partner for that whole good cop-bad-cop game. Mia’s eyes were dangerously heavy and though she had propped her chin in alternate hands for the last few hours, both of her biceps were beginning to feel like three day old spaghetti. Across the table, the detective stared that same level stare, the green of his eyes striking her like a backhanded slap.
“I’ve already told you,” she said, exhaustion slurring the edges of her speech,” my name isn’t Bridget, it’s Mia.”
A days’ growth of beard shadowed his jaw, the only sign that he was any worse for wear from their time in this cinder block hell hole.

]]> By: chrisk http://www.karintabke.com/blog/2009/01/round-six-2/comment-page-1/#comment-678528 chrisk Fri, 23 Jan 2009 00:23:49 +0000 http://www.karintabke.com/blog/?p=651#comment-678528 My name is Isadora Macleod and I am haunted. Take it from me, a life where the dead are your regular clientele is nothing like Hollywood would have you believe. I’d love to claim some saint-worthy purpose, that it’s my calling to guide lost souls to a better place, but that would be a lie. I didn’t choose this life — it chose me. And destiny can be one mean sonofabitch. Something was in the wind -- if I'd been a comic-book superhero my spidey sense would have been at full tingle. My name is Isadora Macleod and I am haunted. Take it from me, a life where the dead are your regular clientele is nothing like Hollywood would have you believe. I’d love to claim some saint-worthy purpose, that it’s my calling to guide lost souls to a better place, but that would be a lie. I didn’t choose this life — it chose me. And destiny can be one mean sonofabitch.

Something was in the wind — if I’d been a comic-book superhero my spidey sense would have been at full tingle.

]]> By: Leigh Faver http://www.karintabke.com/blog/2009/01/round-six-2/comment-page-1/#comment-678270 Leigh Faver Thu, 22 Jan 2009 16:11:30 +0000 http://www.karintabke.com/blog/?p=651#comment-678270 Jill tried to stand straighter, though the handcuffs bit into her wrists. If this was to be her last moment alive, she was determined to go bravely. Panic clawed at her throat, but she refused to cry out as the huge machine bore down on her, its massive treads sending a stomach-clenching, teeth-gritting tremble through the earth beneath her. Her heart drummed against her ribs as she convulsed in a violent coughing spasm, her lungs burning from the acrid stench of diesel and east Texas red dust swirling in the air. Over the roar of the caterpillar, a deep mechanical voice crackled through a bullhorn, “You people will have to leave!” A tall, broad-shouldered man strode angrily toward her, the filtered sunlight glinting off his hard hat as he shouted, “Get those chains off her!” Jill tried to stand straighter, though the handcuffs bit into her wrists. If this was to be her last moment alive, she was determined to go bravely. Panic clawed at her throat, but she refused to cry out as the huge machine bore down on her, its massive treads sending a stomach-clenching, teeth-gritting tremble through the earth beneath her.
Her heart drummed against her ribs as she convulsed in a violent coughing spasm, her lungs burning from the acrid stench of diesel and east Texas red dust swirling in the air.
Over the roar of the caterpillar, a deep mechanical voice crackled through a bullhorn, “You people will have to leave!”
A tall, broad-shouldered man strode angrily toward her, the filtered sunlight glinting off his hard hat as he shouted, “Get those chains off her!”

]]> By: Raine http://www.karintabke.com/blog/2009/01/round-six-2/comment-page-1/#comment-678052 Raine Thu, 22 Jan 2009 08:37:35 +0000 http://www.karintabke.com/blog/?p=651#comment-678052 Darkness did not fall gently this day. It scourged the land like a rolling plague, leaving shadow where there had been shapes—a predatory hunger not unlike his own. He smiled at his conceit, cradling his cracked rib with one arm, and plunged into the heart of the night. They’d never catch him now. The fringes of Hell were his Heaven, and he was born of the blood. Plowing a twisted path through the woods, he ignored the slashing pines that made his cheek sing. Darkness did not fall gently this day.

It scourged the land like a rolling plague, leaving shadow where there had been shapes—a predatory hunger not unlike his own.

He smiled at his conceit, cradling his cracked rib with one arm, and plunged into the heart of the night. They’d never catch him now. The fringes of Hell were his Heaven, and he was born of the blood.

Plowing a twisted path through the woods, he ignored the slashing pines that made his cheek sing.

]]> By: Sophee Storm http://www.karintabke.com/blog/2009/01/round-six-2/comment-page-1/#comment-677815 Sophee Storm Thu, 22 Jan 2009 00:21:37 +0000 http://www.karintabke.com/blog/?p=651#comment-677815 It may sound odd, but sometimes moments in life seem to have a distinct smell. At any moment, of any day, a plethora of aromas can summon a wealth of emotions and memories. To Grace Riley, life’s happy moments were tinged with the perfume of sunshine and fragrant grass. During the moments of sorrow, sadness polluted the air with an oily, suffocating smoke, and even danger caused a detectable metallic scent. The odor that wafted up to her sensitive nose now was none of these. The smell assaulting her, the repugnant odor of dust and stagnancy, was the same scent that had haunted her steps these last four years. It may sound odd, but sometimes moments in life seem to have a distinct smell. At any moment, of any day, a plethora of aromas can summon a wealth of emotions and memories. To Grace Riley, life’s happy moments were tinged with the perfume of sunshine and fragrant grass. During the moments of sorrow, sadness polluted the air with an oily, suffocating smoke, and even danger caused a detectable metallic scent. The odor that wafted up to her sensitive nose now was none of these.
The smell assaulting her, the repugnant odor of dust and stagnancy, was the same scent that had haunted her steps these last four years.

]]> By: Kristi http://www.karintabke.com/blog/2009/01/round-six-2/comment-page-1/#comment-677813 Kristi Thu, 22 Jan 2009 00:13:44 +0000 http://www.karintabke.com/blog/?p=651#comment-677813 23. Jackson Taylor’s toes clenched as he came abruptly awake, the left side of his body shivering. A soft weight held his shoulder down, the feel of a woman’s curves pressing hard against his chest, keeping the right side delectably warm. Cold water tickled his feet, wet sand dug into his butt and the tangy, salty smell of the ocean filled his nostrils. A flash of red hair, spinning lanterns and Latin dance music raced through his mind before it went blank. Levering his eyes open, he winced as the first fingers of yellow sunlight bounced off the white sand to hit him right between the eyes. The infernal beat of bongos intensified just behind his right temple. 23. Jackson Taylor’s toes clenched as he came abruptly awake, the left side of his body shivering. A soft weight held his shoulder down, the feel of a woman’s curves pressing hard against his chest, keeping the right side delectably warm. Cold water tickled his feet, wet sand dug into his butt and the tangy, salty smell of the ocean filled his nostrils.

A flash of red hair, spinning lanterns and Latin dance music raced through his mind before it went blank. Levering his eyes open, he winced as the first fingers of yellow sunlight bounced off the white sand to hit him right between the eyes. The infernal beat of bongos intensified just behind his right temple.

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