Showing posts with label patriotic 2025. Show all posts
Showing posts with label patriotic 2025. Show all posts
Monday, May 26, 2025
🗽Monday Morning's Menu🗽 : Decoration Day, 1933 by Frank W Butterfield
A Nick & Carter Holiday #11
Tuesday, May 30, 1933
It's Decoration Day and Nick has decided to skip school because he doesn't want to take his history test.
With a fistful of money, he tries to convince his sister, Janet, to head out for a day at Chutes-by-the-Beach where they can ride the Big Dipper and visit the Fun House.
She finally agrees since she never gets to eat the hot dogs with mustard that she likes so much!
Will they have the time of their lives or will someone snitch and turn them over to the police for truancy?
Either way, it's quite likely going to be a day both children will remember for many years to come.
Welcome to a year of holidays with Nick Williams and Carter Jones!
This is the eleventh in a series of short stories all centered around specific holidays.
Each story is a vignette that stands on its own and takes place from the 1920s to 2008.
This is a short story containing about 7,900 words.
Original Review May 2022:
Decoration Day, 1933 is a delightful glimpse into the life of a young Nick years before he and Carter meet. I have yet to read anything but these holiday shorts in Nick and Carter's journey and as this is Nick's childhood there is no need to read any other entry first. Having said that, I think what Decoration Day does do is show yet another event that helps make Nick into the man he becomes. So I'll just say this as to not give anything away: once again Frank W Butterfield has created a little window into the younger life of one half of his famed couple that delights, entertains, and makes the reader smile.RATING:
1198 Sacramento Street
San Francisco, Cal.
Tuesday, May 30, 1933
After breakfast
"Come over here and quick!" hissed Nick across the hall to his sister who was just walking out of her room with her brown leather satchel in one hand and blue coat in the other.
Turning a quizzical face in his direction, Janet asked, "What?"
Nick motioned. "Come on. And don't dawdle."
Janet rolled her eyes but walked across the hall and into her brother's room. She sat down on his bed, threw her coat to one side, and let her satchel drop to the floor.
Nick softly closed the door and then, with his back against the knob, looked at his sister, as he whispered, "Wanna play hooky, today?"
Janet thought for a moment and then shook her head. "Today's the day they're bringing flowers to school and we're going to the cemetery." Looking exasperated, she said, "It's Decoration Day, you know."
Ignoring Janet's usual way of being bossy, Nick glanced over at his desk. "But I've got a buncha dough."
Janet's eyes widened a little. "Oh, yeah? Wheredja get it from?"
"Never you mind," said Nick, wondering if maybe his idea wasn't as good as he thought it would be. "I got the dough and now I wanna spend it."
"Nick!" hissed his sister. "We're gonna be late for school! Both of us!"
Crossing his arms, Nick shrugged. "I don't care. I gotta test today and I don't feel like takin' no test and that dough's burnin' a whole in my pocket." He grinned. He'd heard someone talkin' just like that on the radio a few weeks ago.
"How much?"
Nick's eyes widened as he quietly said, "Fifty bucks!"
Janet leaned forward and almost fell off the bed. "Fifty dollars! Wheredja get money like that?"
"Never you mind." Nick tilted his head. "You wanna go to Chutes-at-the-Beach and ride the rides?"
Before Janet could answer, they both heard Zelda clap twice and call up from the bottom of the stairs. "Children! Time for school!"
Janet jumped off the bed and grabbed her satchel. "I'm not gonna be late. Allie would be so mad."
Nick shrugged. "Suit yourself. If you change your mind, you'll find me at the usual place in the park." He reached into his front pocket and pulled out five dollars. Waving the small wad of bills in his fist in front of his sister's nose, he said, "Here's car fare from that snooty school of yours to our place in the park."
Janet blinked twice, looked at the money, and then looked at her brother.
"Children!"
Shaking her head, Janet dashed around Nick, opened his bedroom door with her satchel in hand, and then ran down the hallway towards the stairs.
"Janet!" exclaimed Zelda. "How many times must I tell you not to run down the stairs? Do you want to break your neck and end up in the hospital for six months like that poor child I told you about in Salt Lake City?"
Seeing that his sister had left her coat behind, Nick shoved the dough in one of its pockets, and then, running into the hallway, said, "Janet! You forgot your coat!"
Nick Williams Mystery Series
In 1953, the richest homosexual in San Francisco is a private investigator.
Nick Williams lives in a modest bungalow with his fireman husband, a sweet fellow from Georgia by the name of Carter Jones.
Nick's gem of a secretary, Marnie Wilson, is worried that Nick isn't working enough. She knits a lot.
Jeffrey Klein, Esquire, is Nick's friend and lawyer. He represents the guys and gals who get caught in police raids in the Tenderloin.
Lt. Mike Robertson is Nick's first love and best friend. He's a good guy who's one hell of a cop.
The Unexpected Heiress is where their stories begin. Read along and fall in love with the City where cable cars climb halfway to the stars.
Long before the Summer of Love, pride parades down Market Street, and the fight for marriage equality, San Francisco was all about the Red Scare, F.B.I. investigations, yellow journalism run amok, and the ladies who play mahjong over tea.
Nick & Carter Holiday Series
Welcome to a year of holidays with Nick Williams and Carter Jones!
This is a series of short stories with each centered around a specific holiday.
From New Year's Day to Boxing Day, each story stands on its own and might occur in any year from the early 1920s to the first decade of the 21st Century.
Saturday Series Spotlights
Frank W Butterfield
Frank W. Butterfield is the Amazon best-selling author of 89 (and counting) self-published novels, novellas, and short stories. Born and raised in Lubbock, Texas, he has traveled all over the US and Canada and now makes his home in Daytona Beach, Florida. His first attempt at writing at the age of nine with a ball-point pen and a notepad was a failure. Forty years later, he tried again and hasn't stopped since.
Decoration Day, 1933 #11
Nick Williams Mystery Series
SMASHWORDS / iTUNES / KOBO
B&N / iTUNES AUDIO / AUDIBLE
Nick & Carter Holiday Series
Friday, May 23, 2025
🗽📘🎥Friday's Film Adaptation🎥📘🗽: Shining Through by Susan Isaacs
From bestselling author Susan Isaacs, Shining Through is a novel of honor, sacrifice, passion, and humor—made into a movie of the same name starring Melanie Griffith, Michael Douglas, and Liam Neeson
It's 1940 and Linda Voss, legal secretary extraordinaire, has a secret. She's head over heels in love with her boss, John Berringer, the pride of the Ivy League. Not that she even has a chance—he'd never take a second look at a German-Jewish girl from Queens who spends her time taking care of her faded beauty of a mother and following bulletins on the war in Europe. For Linda, though, the war will soon become all too real. Engulfing her nation and her life, it will offer opportunities she's never dreamed of. A chance to win the man she wants...a chance to find the love she deserves.
This is vintage Susan Isaacs, a tale of a spirited woman who wisecracks her way into heroism and history—-and into your heart.
Chapter One
In 1940, when I was thirty-one and an old maid, while the whole world waited for war, I fell in love with John Berringer.
An office crush. Big deal. Since the invention of the steno pad, a day hasn't gone by without some secretary glancing up from her Pitman squiggles and suddenly realizing that the man who was mumbling "...and therefore, pursuant to the above..." was the one man in her life who could ever bring her joy.
So there I was, a cliche with a number 2 yellow pencil: a working girl from Queens who'd lost her heart to the pride of the Ivy League.
And to make matters worse, John Berringer bore absolutely no resemblance to the typical Wall Street international lawyer, the kind whose gray face was two shades paler than his suit. Sure, a girl could wind up losing her heart to one of those dreary men. There's nothing quieter than an old maid's bedroom, and in that black stillness it's so easy to create magic: A lawyer with the profile of a toad—Abracadabra!—is transformed into an Adonis, pulsating with passion under his pinstripes.
But John didn't need any of that midnight magic to turn him gorgeous. The big joke in the law firm was how could I not have a mad crush on him. "You've got to be made of iron, Linda," one of the girls said at lunch, "not to go nuts for those blue eyes. They're blue like-" Someone at the far end of the table called out, Twilight! And someone else chimed in, No, like a clear lake ... but with a funny kind of depth, like on a cloudy day. John Berringer made poets out of stenographers. Someone else piped up, Come on...blue like pansies, andGladysSlade, my best friend, called out from the head of the lunch table, "How can anybody even think of the word 'pansy' in the same sentence with 'Mr. Berringer' in it?" Everyone giggled.
In private, Gladys said, "Listen, Linda, don't kid a kidder. I'm the first person to understand your not wanting to make a public announcement, but even if you didn't care about looks, think about brains. I mean, you're always reading the papers and wanting to talk about—oh, God, you know English naval power. Or French politics. So aren't you attracted to someone brilliant like him? I bet he loves all that boring stuff."
"It's not boring. Three quarters of the world is—"
"He's so charming," she cut me off. "Like a blond Cary Grant."
"Gladys," I explained, "when you sit across the desk from this guy day in and day out, you realize he's always charming. It kind of wafts up from him, like B.O. Don't you get it? It doesn't mean anything. And his looks...Yeah, he's handsome, but what's behind it?"
"That's for you to find out," Gladys ho-ho-hoed.
"I've got to tell you," I said, "there's something deepdown unappealing about a man who knows he's stunning and uses it. You know, like it's six-fifteen and you're so tired all you want to do is suck your thumb, but he has fortyseven letters he still wants to dictate. So he flashes that five-thousand-watt smile and that's supposed to brighten up your life and make you want to go on. But see, a guy who pulls that sort of thing isn't..."
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't masculine."
"Oh, come off it!"
"I'm serious, Gladys. And he's much too blond. Girls are fair. Guys should be dark. And with those big blue eyes. It's like some artist made him up to illustrate 'Cinderella.' Can't you just see him, with green stockings and those bubble shorts, holding a glass slipper?"
"I can see him with green stockings...and without green stockings." This was a very racy remark for Gladys, whose idea of wild sex was Fred Astaire loosening his tie.
"He's Prince Charming," I said. "Who needs it? I've got to stay late when he asks me, even if he looked like a pile of you-know-what. It's my job. But he thinks: Ha! I've charmed her. I've got her where I've got all the girls, in the palm of my hand." I looked Gladys straight in the eye. "You know why he doesn't do a thing for me? Because he's a woman's man. Not a real man."
Naturally, I was lying through my teeth. But I kept my secret love a secret. I would not let myself (as his secretary) be honorary president of the John Berringer Fan Club. What I felt for John wasn't meant to be shared with the girls. It was precious, and different.
Because even way back then, I felt I was different.
But was I (am I?) really different in any way from all the women from Brooklyn and Queens and the Bronx who trekked up the stairs from the subway every morning and got lost in the dark canyons, the gloomy buildings that loomed over Wall Street? Well, I'm not in Queens anymore. I'm certainly not a secretary. I'm not the girl I was.
But how did I get all the way here from there?
Because when America finally did go to war, the other subway secretaries fought Hitler by saving their bacon grease in fin cans and putting makeup on their legs instead of silk stockings. My fight, though, was different—perilous, real. I wound up in the middle of the Nazi hellhole. Me, Linda Voss.
Release Date: January 31, 1992
Release Time: 132 minutes
Director: David Seltzer
Cast:
Michael Douglas as Ed Leland
Melanie Griffith as Linda Voss
Liam Neeson as General Franze-Otto Dietrich
Joely Richardson as Margrete von Eberstein
John Gielgud as Konrad Friedrichs a.k.a. Sunflower
Francis Guinan as Andrew Berringer
Anthony Walters as Dietrich's son
Victoria Shalet as Dietrich's daughter
Sheila Allen as Olga Leiner
Stanley Beard as Linda's father
Sylvia Syms as Linda's mother
Ronald Nitschke as Horst Drescher
Hansi Jochmann as Hedda Drescher
Mathieu Carrière as Capt. Von Haefler
William Hope as Major Kernohan
Constanze Engelbrecht as Stafson Von Neest
Ludwig Haas as Adolf Hitler
Wolf Kahler as German Border Commandant
Susan Isaacs is the author of fourteen novels, including Compromising Positions, Shining Through, After All These Years, and As Husbands Go. Her newest novel, Takes One to Know One, will be published in October 2019. She is a former editor of Seventeen and a freelance political speechwriter. Susan is chairman of the board of Poets & Writers and a past president of Mystery Writers of America.
KOBO / iTUNES / GOOGLE PLAY
Film
Thursday, May 22, 2025
🗽⏳Throwback Thursday's Time Machine⏳🗽: The Sinner and the Saint by RJ Scott
Summary:
Ellery Mountain #8
The hero is a sinner. The bad guy is a saint. And agreeing to sex for just a month turns everything else upside down.
Ben Rockwell, a former military medic, arrives in Ellery with a mission to establish a specialized unit for post-trauma care at the Veterans Center. Driven by a strong desire to rectify past battlefield decisions, he pours all his focus into this endeavor, disregarding everything else. However, his world takes an unexpected turn when a stranger moves in next door, throwing him off balance. Despite being hailed as a hero, Ben feels burdened by the weight of concealed truths, and knows he is anything but.
British actor, Nicholas Merrick, accused by the media of cheating on his fiancé and then coming out as gay flees from London, and seeks refuge in his friend’s house in small town Tennessee. He intends to remain hidden until the chaos in his past subsides. The choices he made in his life were motivated by protecting his best friend, but everyone has painted him as the villain. The moment Ben and Nicholas cross paths, they fall in lust, but is love possible for the sinning hero and the saintly bad boy?
Original Review May 2018:
Ben Rockwell comes to Ellery to work with the Veteran's Center his friend Daniel Skylar started to help make amends for battlefield decisions by working with the Center's residents. Nick Merrick has come to Ellery to escape the paparazzi and the scandal he created back in England. Ben and Nick find themselves in each other's orbits and despite their plans will a couple of hook-ups lead to more?
I've missed the Ellery universe and the men within its city limits and the thought that this is the last time we'll visit the area saddens me but if that truly is the case than RJ Scott left the city with a winner. Was The Saint & the Sinner as good as the other entries? Maybe not. Would I have liked to know more of Ben's Army pain? Sure. Would Nick's family's input made an impact? Probably. HOWEVER! As much as I may have liked to know more of Ben's battlefield pain I didn't need to know to feel his heartache. As much as I wanted to hear from Nick's family, it really wasn't about them, its about Nick and his need to find himself as well as help his friend Heather so it makes sense to hear from her dad and not his. Would I have added these things if this was my story? Maybe, but its not my story, it's RJ Scott's story and no one does it better.
As for the characters, I loved them both from the very beginning. I have to say that as much as I love the men together, one of my favorite scenes is Ben telling the one woman off in the checkout line. Despite the anger I felt at her words I found myself laughing as I pictured her face as Ben walked away. Its scenes like this that probably don't have much bearing on the main story that make RJ Scott's work so real and connectable for the reader. The same goes for Nick, his scene with Norma Jean shows us that he isn't just the spoiled son rebelling against the family grain, he is his own person trying to find his place. We may not meet these people every day but the author has a way that makes us want to know them.
As I said above, if this is truly the end of the Ellery men than it is a lovely exit. Who knows, maybe if we ask nicely we'll see them all again in one of RJ's lovely holiday stories, Christmas Comes to Ellery Mountain? 😉*hint hint* 😉 Whatever happens to the men, The Saint & the Sinner is a lovely read that brightened my day and I'm already looking forward to re-reading and re-visiting Ellery for years to come.
I've missed the Ellery universe and the men within its city limits and the thought that this is the last time we'll visit the area saddens me but if that truly is the case than RJ Scott left the city with a winner. Was The Saint & the Sinner as good as the other entries? Maybe not. Would I have liked to know more of Ben's Army pain? Sure. Would Nick's family's input made an impact? Probably. HOWEVER! As much as I may have liked to know more of Ben's battlefield pain I didn't need to know to feel his heartache. As much as I wanted to hear from Nick's family, it really wasn't about them, its about Nick and his need to find himself as well as help his friend Heather so it makes sense to hear from her dad and not his. Would I have added these things if this was my story? Maybe, but its not my story, it's RJ Scott's story and no one does it better.
As for the characters, I loved them both from the very beginning. I have to say that as much as I love the men together, one of my favorite scenes is Ben telling the one woman off in the checkout line. Despite the anger I felt at her words I found myself laughing as I pictured her face as Ben walked away. Its scenes like this that probably don't have much bearing on the main story that make RJ Scott's work so real and connectable for the reader. The same goes for Nick, his scene with Norma Jean shows us that he isn't just the spoiled son rebelling against the family grain, he is his own person trying to find his place. We may not meet these people every day but the author has a way that makes us want to know them.
As I said above, if this is truly the end of the Ellery men than it is a lovely exit. Who knows, maybe if we ask nicely we'll see them all again in one of RJ's lovely holiday stories, Christmas Comes to Ellery Mountain? 😉*hint hint* 😉 Whatever happens to the men, The Saint & the Sinner is a lovely read that brightened my day and I'm already looking forward to re-reading and re-visiting Ellery for years to come.
RATING:
Chapter 1
Loud banging, with added yelling, pulled Nick out of a nightmare. After a restless, irritable, crunchy-messy night of tossing and turning, he had finally fallen asleep some time before dawn, and now at fuck o’clock in the morning there was knocking at the front door. And some asshole shouting words that he couldn’t make out. Was this part of his dream? He couldn’t tell.
For the longest time he lay flat on his back, unwilling to move. The sheets were wrapped around him like a mummy, the quilt on the floor, and he was still in that half world between nightmare and reality. Even closing his eyes didn’t help dispel the vivid images of him walking up to the Oscar podium completely naked and with the Queen pointing and laughing at him.
Naked as the day he was born, hanging loose and free, and no one saying a thing. Apart from the laughing that was. Like it was okay that one of the Oscar nominees was walking up the steps free of any and all clothing.
Not to mention no one commented on the Queen throwing popcorn at him.
Yep, it had been that kind of nightmare, and it wasn’t the first time he’d had it. And where the Oscar fear came from he didn’t know. There would never be a chance of an Oscar for. Not for the guy whose acting career had happened by accident and formed only because of a personal rebellion against his straight laced family. His resume included two sequels to the highly profitable, but formulaic, shit-bad, Angels of Bedlam franchise, with his entire fee going charity because he didn’t need the money.
Nick hadn’t been in the first UK funded Bedlam film. Said film had been praised for its ingenious twist on a dark horror romance. No, he was the handy British villain in the next two, the studio cashing in on any money that was left out there in a saturated market by ticking all the boxes. Explosions, tick. Strong, but mostly naked, female lead, tick. Sexy down on his luck, in te wrong place at the wrong time, male lead, tick.
And him, the ubiquitous bad guy with the English accent.
The follow up were certainly not Oscar material, and once Nick pulled his fragmented sleep-addled thoughts into line, he focused on the statistical likelihood of even being nominated for an Oscar in the first place, let alone accepting it naked.
“Fuck me,” he muttered to the empty room and rolled onto his front. The banging had stopped and no one actually knew he was here, so, he wasn’t going to answer the door in a place that wasn’t even his.
Jason McInnery and his husband, Kieran, lived in this stunning home, in the small town of Ellery, Tennessee. Glass floor to ceiling, wide open rooms, a pool in the garden, and the most comprehensive jungle gym he’d ever seen for Jason and Kieran’s son, Jonas. Even the damn guest room was beautiful, a huge wood carving took up nearly one wall, and the view from the window out to the mountain was stunning. At least that was the adjective he was supposed to use for what he could see. Objectively, he could see it was spectacular, but was too lost in confusion since he got here to think about it too much. A quick glance at the clock showed him it was five am, like midnight or something back in London, and still dark in the shadow of the mountain, so he rolled over and pulled the covers up to his neck.
Even in the middle of the chaotic remnants of his nightmare he welcomed the heat that cocooned him and willed the knocking to stop. Which it did. The mess of dreams forgotten, he drifted on as many good thoughts as he could muster and was very nearly asleep when the banging started up again. He groaned and hid his face under the pillow, willing the person creating the noise to go away. Then it ceased again, and he closed his eyes, but didn’t remove the pillow. Dawn was too close now and the room would fill with light because he hadn’t even taken the time to pull the drapes.
Unfortunately, his bladder had other ideas about what he needed to do, and cursing, he grabbed the sheets and untwisted himself. Feet planted on the floor he scrubbed a hand over his face, the untamed beard was just another reminder of everything that was horribly wrong about his life right now. Normally he would have just the right amount of stubble, but the last instalment of Angels of Bedlam, cunningly entitled, Bedlam Adrift, called for him to be a castaway, hence the beard, which he’d left to tangle.
No point in worrying about it anyway. He’d left London to get away from paparazzi, and their incessant need for more, and he was in unofficial hiding. Therefore, no one would see his beard, or his bloodshot eyes.
He caught sight of himself in the mirror.
“Jesus, you look fucked.”
Bedhead. Bags under his eyes. Beard. It was a whole cacophony of B-shit. Yawning widely, he padded across the bedroom to the half bath, emptying his bladder and washing his hands. He’d gone to bed as nature intended. Well, warm nature anyway, completely naked, which probably led to nightmare. Packing back home had been done in less than five minutes, his priority was money, passport, his phone, his laptop and associated chargers. It seemed like his messed-up head hadn’t thought any kind of pajamas were needed, or indeed underwear.
The next choice was shower or bed, and the exhaustion of the past few days, the media attention, making sure Heather was okay, fleeing the UK, ending up here in the middle of rural Tennessee, it was all too much and he sighed.
“Bed it is,” he muttered to his reflection. As soon as he woke up he was going online to order everything he’d forgot to pack. Jason had said to help himself to anything he needed but helping himself to his friend’s clothes didn’t feel right.
He yawned again, and stepped out into the cooler bedroom, eyes only half open.
“Hands where I can see them,” someone shouted, and Nick, startled, his heart pounding, fell backwards into the bathroom, catching himself on the jamb as best he could. He blinked to focus on the man in front of him.
The cop.
The gun.
The cop holding a gun on him. Immediately he raised his hands, and then lowered them to cover his junk, and then raised them again when the cop didn’t move.
Ellery Mountain—a series of books set in the town of Ellery in the Smoky Mountains focusing on heroes as they navigate the barren landscape of being gay in a small town. Read stories of men like Finn the cop, Daniel the ex-marine, Kieran the carpenter, Marines, SEALs, teachers, soldiers, and a town that embraces them with love.
Saturday's Series Spotlight
RJ ScottWriting love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
BOOKBUB / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk
The Sinner and the Saint #8
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