Strangers on a Train.

Trains have always held a fascination for me.  And I suspect the rest of the world.

 How many children grow up with Thomas the Tank Engine and move onto the Hogwarts Express?   Does anyone remember The Little Engine That Could and The Railway Children?

How many mysteries and thrillers take place on a train?  How many romances do they meet on a train?
Maybe not so many these days but back in the day trains featured prominently in Mills & Boon romances.

Trains still have that fascination.  Who could forget the climactic scene in Mission:Impossible with the helicopter following the train into the Channel Tunnel.

Just recently I read a lovely story by Ruthie Knox called Big Boy where a couple meet in a train museum.  It will be released in an anthology next February with the other talented authors in the Strangers on a Train series of novellas.

So railway stories are by no means dead.

Westlander at the railway station in Cunnamulla

I first travelled in a train as a small child from Cunnamulla in far south west Queensland to Brisbane.  It took close on 24 hours leaving on Sunday and Thursday morning and arriving in Brisbane the next morning.  The trip home left on Friday evening and Tuesday evening.  I can remember going up to the station, which was the end of the line, to watch the train come in for entertainment.  We didn't have television until 1974.




When I moved to Brisbane the late 70's I travelled on trains quite regularly.  The old wooden carriages with individual compartments inspired my Writer's Challenge story which I am posting below.

Strangers on a Train - A romantic short

Bridget smoothed her hair complacently.  The Jackie Onassis style shoulder length bob suited her thick blonde tresses, the ends flicking up with only a tweak once she took out the rollers.  The train lurched as it started to move and she checked her beauty case, sitting on the ornate metal luggage rack.  Pink, to match her two piece suit. She looked just right for her interview.  As long as she could remember, Bridget wanted to be an Air Hostess.  Today would be her big chance.

These trains still ran in the 70's when I was in Brisbane

A bang jolted her from her happy dream as the door of the compartment opened and a  battered guitar case landed on the floor, closely followed by the owner.

‘Are you insane?  The train was already moving.  You could have been killed.’

The young man straightened up to an impressive height and pulled the door closed.  ‘I’m cool with it, babe.’  For in spite of long, glossy dark locks, he was most assuredly a man.

His lean face with the high cheek bones looked like one of the paintings she’d seen at the National Gallery, the neat moustache and goatee framing a half-smile on a beautifully shaped mouth.  She was being observed by melting brown eyes with long black lashes.

Flustered, she tried to assert herself again.  ‘Do you make a habit of leaping on and off trains?’

‘Not usually.  I just happened to want to catch this one.  I’m on my way to Roma Street.’

 So he would be with her almost the whole trip.  ‘I’m going to Central Station. Do you have an appointment in the City too?’

King George Square back in the day

‘You might say that.  We’re having a sit in at King George Square.  Peace, love and all that.’

‘You’re a protester?’

He looked at her sharply, no doubt recognising the distaste in her tone.  ‘You might call me that.’

‘My brother is serving in Vietnam.  He’s been there for two months.  We're very proud of him, serving his country.’

‘I’m sure you are.  I hope you never have to see him come home injured, or worse.’  His response was mild, the expression in his eyes sincere.  She’d expected a rant against the war.

Bridget watched him seat himself in the corner of the compartment, stretching his long legs at an angle.  His guitar case rested on the overhead rack beside her beauty case.  ‘Do you know someone who was hurt?’

‘A few of my mates.’

‘I’m sorry.  I don’t know anyone who’s been fighting in Vietnam.  Apart from my brother.’

‘Then today is your lucky day.’

She stared at his long hair and beard, the psychedelic t-shirt.  ‘You were a soldier?  Why aren’t you still over there?’

‘They sent me home.’

‘Why?  Did you do something wrong?’

He laughed.  ‘So it’s true what they say.  You are some dumb blonde aren’t you?’

‘I’m not dumb.’  She watched horrified as he tugged the shirt out of his well worn jeans, revealing tanned flesh with a sprinkling of dark hair across his chest.  ‘What are you doing.  You can’t undress here…it’s…it’s a public place.’

‘Cool it, Princess.  I’m just showing you why I’m back home.’

Roma Street Station - Clock tower is at King George Square

Trying not to stare at the ripple of muscled chest, the even pattern of lines and bumps down his stomach, Bridget sat primly in her seat.  ‘I can’t see that showing off your…body is proving anything except that you are some kind of exhibitionist, or lunatic.’

Standing up, he gripped the baggage rack to steady himself.  ‘Whatever you say.’  She watched him twist on the spot, revealing the long length of his spine below the wavy brown hair that came to just below his broad shoulders.

‘Oh…my…’  Her throat closed, swallowing the words as she stared at the crinkled mess of red and white scarring that covered most of his back, vanishing below the waistband of his jeans.

Tears prickled and she blinked to try and force them back.  The stranger slumped back onto the seat, pulling the shirt back over his head and shoulders, smoothing it down over his stomach.  ‘If your brother is as pretty as you, Princess, you don’t want to see him messed up like me.  Not for a pointless war that no-one is going to win.’

Bridget had to stop herself from asking him if he really thought she was pretty.  There were more serious issues at stake.  ‘Of course we’ll win.  America and Australia together will defeat the communists.  Daddy says so.  He was an officer in the last war.’

‘Ah.  So you’re a Daddy’s girl.  I bet you have the kind of job to mark time until Mr. Right comes along to marry you.’

‘Of course not.  I’m going for a job interview today.’

‘Really.  Selling perfume at David Jones I suppose.’

‘No.  I want to be an Air Hostess.’

The silence in the compartment was deafening.  She could hear the rhythm of the wheels on the train as he stared at her.  As if she were some kind of strange beetle.

‘What’s wrong with being an Air Hostess?’

‘It’s exactly the sort of job I was talking about.  Are you planning to marry a pilot and have lots of little pilots in suburbia.’

‘I’m not planning on marrying anyone.  It’s 1971 and I’m a liberated woman.’

His eyes scanned her body.  ‘You don’t look very liberated in that outfit.’

‘I don’t mean that kind of liberated.  I mean…I’m going to be a career woman and travel and be independent.’

‘Wouldn’t you rather come with me and make a real difference to the world, Princess.’

Central Station- the far clock tower is King George Square

The train was pulling into Roma Street and he stood up to get his guitar case.  He looked at her appealingly.  ‘If you come, I promise you won’t regret it.’

Stubbornly she shook her head.  With a shrug he jumped from the train and she watched him walk away.

Emerging onto Ann Street, Bridget hesitated, remembering melting brown eyes, a soft appeal.  Her interview was to the left, King George Square to her right.  After a moment, she turned right.

Waiting for a train to go by in Stanthorpe a couple of weekends ago
Steam trains come to Stanthorpe regularly and are very popular.

Sometimes I want to be a Historical Romance Writer.

So a while ago I wrote this little short for the Writer's Challenge.  Please note that it is probably very derivative of my favourite historical author.  I have all Georgette Heyer's books and they live on my Prozac shelf.

Runaway 

If only she didn't have to walk.  In spite of the horses standing idle, the carriage hadn’t been an option.  Not without alerting Mama.  Her soft kid boots were scuffed and dusty and Letty was almost sure she had a blister on her heel.  The pelisse, so cosy in the early hours, now raised an unbecoming glow in the heat of mid-morning.

Running away from home seemed fraught with difficult choices.  The distance to Little Padbury that appeared an easy stroll from Beaumont now stretched into a vast distance when encumbered by two hatboxes.  It was to be hoped that dear Mama would allow her trunk to be sent on once she was settled in her new position.

To be sure, Mrs Leigh and her adorable sons may be a little challenging for a young lady less than twelve months out of the schoolroom herself.  But after all, two boys barely out of the nursery shouldn’t be harder to handle than the young men a young lady encounters on her first season.  Indeed, very young boys were known to have an aversion to kissing.

Letty frowned at the memory of that kiss.  It had ruined everything.  Pleasurable at the time.  In fact rather more than pleasurable.  But the resulting proposal when the rakish Duke had been caught by that prosy Mrs Pikely, had not been the way Letty wanted to become the Duchess of Beaumont.

With a sigh, she stepped off the dusty road and settled down on a tree stump, a hatbox on each side of her.  Hopefully a farmer on his way to Little Padbury might take her up in his wagon.

Untying her bonnet, she used the large poke to fan herself.  The sound of horses coming at speed almost made her drop it, but they were coming from the opposite direction to Beaumont.  As the equipage came around the corner, she recognised it as a high perch phaeton and four.  Driven by a Corinthian of the first stare, as betokened by the numerous shoulder capes on his coat and the reckless tilt of his hat on the dark, curling locks.

At first she thought he might sweep past her, but at the last minute he checked his horses and her heart sank.  His hawk-like visage was intimidating and those grey eyes colder than a winters day.  A well set up man of close to thirty with powerful shoulders and strong thighs in the tight fitting breeches.  She felt her heart beat a little faster.  But it was the long fingered elegant hands that drew her eyes as he held the high fettled livestock with ease.  Hands that could be both strong and gentle.

 

“Going somewhere, My Lady?”

“Indeed yes.  But do not be concerned.  I can make my own way.”

“I doubt there will be any others on this road.  It’s not market day you know.  You’d far better come with me.”

“But I’m going to catch the Mail at Little Padbury.  I intend to be a governess.”

“You’ve missed it for today.  It comes through very early in the morning.  Come child, I’ll not hurt you.”

Reluctantly, Letty stood up, limping a little as she approaching the phaeton.  She was tired and hot and thirsty and she only had a few guinea’s in her reticule. 

Seated, not without difficulty, she waited until they were bowling along at a rapid pace.  “I suppose you’ve come home to see if your bride is enceinte with the expected heir.”

His glance raked her.  “And is she?”

“No.  So I suppose we must go through the whole farce again.”

“Was my lovemaking so distasteful to you?”

“Oh no.  Well, perhaps it was a little painful at first.  But afterwards…”  She could feel the warmth rising.  Her face must be blotchy but he continued to look at her in the way that made her all prickly so perhaps he didn’t notice.

“Then why did you treat me like a pariah the next day?  All that prim and proper ‘My Lord’ and not letting me kiss you.”

“Mama came in while you were out with the bailiff.  She reminded me that I must do my duty as you have need of an heir.  She also said I must try not to notice you dined with Mrs Massey the eve of our wedding.”

She sniffed unbecomingly and continued in a mournful tone.  “I fear I am rather the noticing kind.  But perhaps I would not be a very good governess.  I have no talent for managing young men it seems.  If you forgive me for running away and take me home, I shall try to be a conformable wife to you Gervaise.”

“If you are going to throw every youthful indiscretion at me, Letty, I shan’t think you conformable at all.  I don’t suppose your Mama thought to tell you Mrs Massey has been Moncreiff’s familiar for the last five years.  I dined with both of them and several others beside.”

“But I distinctly remember she was your very special friend when we first met.”

“Your memory is very inconvenient.  I’ll have you know I’ve been a paragon ever since a scrubby little schoolgirl fell out of an apple tree at my feet and stole my heart.”

Letty’s heart pounded in a disgracefully unladylike manner.  “She did?  I mean, I did?”

“Have I ever lied to you Letty?”

“I don’t recall so.  You’ve always been very kind.  All the girls at Mrs Sutter’s Academy agreed you sent the nicest bonbons.”

“Oh Letty,  you’ve been an unconscionable time growing up.  I know you are still very young, but I couldn’t wait any longer.  Especially with those young fribbles always hanging around.  I wanted to be your first kiss.  Your first everything.”

“But you were, you are.  Besides, I’m seventeen and quite, quite grownup.”

He laughed in a way that thrilled her.  “Yes, my sweet.  You are quite, quite grownup.  In the nicest way.”

The phaeton slowed under his skilful handling.  And then he kissed her.

A Touch of History

I'm a Georgette Heyer fan from way back.  You can tell this by the fact that I use the word Odious in my everyday speech.  I also read Roberta Gellis and quite a few 'bodice rippers' in my teens.  I also love Ellis Peters Cadfael mysteries with those sweet little romances in each one.



This is my first Jeannie Lin historical and a great introduction to a very different era and culture. The setting of the Tang Dynasty in 800AD is beautifully rendered in a simple and unobtrusive manner. The heroine Yan Ling is the lowest of the low, a foundling working in a tea-house where Fei Long is seeking his runaway sister. When he realises Pearl's flight is to some extent his fault, having ignored her early pleas for help, Fei Long lets her go with her lover.

A combination of his absorption in his problem and Yan Ling's fiery temper results in the tea-house girl being cut loose and a man in need of a Princess to save his family honour is not too proud to pick up a stray servant to train her to take his sister's place as a treaty bride with a far off kingdom.

Of course in a romance it never works out quite so easily. Yan Ling is so much more than a mere servant and as he gets to know her, Fei Long finds that what she is inside becomes more important to him than what she can do for his family honour.

Yan Ling is intrigued from the start by this rather cool, controlled former soldier. As he teaches her the skills she needs, her feelings start to go astray. She finds herself not as practical as Fei Long insists.

Ms Lin introduces an interesting cast of characters, in particular the servant girl Dao, and the theatrical artist, Bai Shen who takes on training Yan Ling in the art of womanhood. A nice touch of irony from a male actor.

The romance between Yan Ling and Fei Long fairly sizzles even though we don't see any intimacy through most of the book. Yan Ling is the perfect foil for the buttoned up Fei Long, encouraging him to look beyond the rules and regulations and see Honour and Duty as tied up with the Heart rather than appearance and social acceptance.

I thoroughly enjoyed this story and even though the solution to the problem was fairly clear only halfway through the story, the culmination of the story was very satisfying. Ms Lin has a nice strain of humour that runs through the book and the ending leaves you with a smile from the humour as well as the romance.

When Emily Got Married

I've just finished reading When Honey Got Married.  I enjoyed it thoroughly, perhaps because I've just been through a family wedding at Easter.  And it was that kind of wedding.  Honey and Emily could be besties because the attention to detail, the craving for perfection, it was all there.  Absolutely beautiful but terrifying in the execution. I include photos of my daughters wedding in lieu of Honey's.

This is my review. ***** 5 Stars because it made me cry.

This was an amazing read. Four novella's centred around not the bride but the sister, the best friend, the wedding planner and the potential 'other woman'.

Honey has organised a humdinger of a wedding. As over the top as you could get with hummingbirds and honeysuckle galore. While she's having bridal jitters and flipping from Bridezilla to the Runaway Bride, the women around her are having their own dramas.

Because among the wedding guests and organisers are some seriously hot men. Like Beau, the chef at Belle Fleur, the wedding venue, who is an old acquaintance of Grace the Wedding planner. 

Cousin Rainer, who would do anything for Brent and Honey, including heading off Eve, Brent's work colleague who had a 'moment' with him just before he got engaged. 
Then there is British Alex, Nina's best friend at the Circus who comes with her as her plus one.

Finally there is Griffin, Brent's brother, who was always around when Pippa was Brent's girlfriend back in the day and somehow made her more aware of him than ever Brent could.

Over the four stories, we get to see these romances develop, but we also see how each of these women help or influence Honey in getting through the biggest day of her life.

This is such a feel good read. What more can you ask for but not one but FIVE happy endings. And if you get a little teary and emotional on the way. Well that's even better.

The Bride and her mother getting ready

The whole hair thing with two of the brides sisters

The Brides Best Friend

The magic moment when Emily married Ashley

The MOTB with Anne Hathaway lookalike daughter

The Youngest Bridesmaid

The Brides Brother and 2nd youngest sister

A romantic moment

Pensive Bridesmaids

The Bride and the Matron of Honour

Cutting the Cake

Check the hair out.

I cleaned.  Semi-willingly.  Well under the whipcracking orders of my 12 year old daughter...

This weekend I cleaned some old software off this bookshelf to make way for my current TBR pile.  I was only going to clean off one shelf but No.7 who has Cleaning OCD (not genetic) cleared the whole bookshelf and the desk underneath. It's brown.  Who knew.

Since then I've been stacking books on the shelves.  On the top I've put my medical authors.  The next shelf is Urgent TBR's this includes quite a lot of books I've been given as well as some I've bought.  The third shelf is  my current keeper shelf.  Authors that don't belong in my vintage collection though I notice Kate Walker has some books being released in the eBook Vintage Collection.  Also on that shelf are my 'research' Sweet Romances and a selection of recent books by authors not yet on my keeper shelf but trending.

This is a gif so it you watch the pic will change.  Yeah I just learned how to do gifs so I'm likely to be boring

I'm a Maisey Yates Fangirl

This means that I nag her constantly for new books,  stalk her on Twitter and Facebook and anywhere else I can find her. I rejoice when I hear she's signed a 12 book contract because I will have more to read.  When I remember how very young she is I am confident that I shall never run out of new books before I die like I did with Georgette Heyer, Agatha Christie and Ellis Peters.

Heir to a Desert Legacy

Once again Maisey Yates puts together a tale full of angst and passion to keep you engaged. As the surrogate mother of her half sisters child, Chloe thought she would do her duty by her sister and then step back into the safe anonymity of her academic world. There she could avoid the danger of passion that made her childhood a nightmare.

Sayid, brother of the sheikh, was brought up to be an emotionless machine, designed to fight for his country at all costs. Unfortunately he couldn’t protect his brother and his wife from dying in a car accident on the way to collect their child from Chloe. When he discovers the existence of the child he will do anything to protect the future king.

Drawn into Sayid’s world because of baby Aden, Chloe finds her commitment to a passionless existence threatened by the close proximity of this dark and damaged man. When they marry, to secure Chloe’s place as Aden’s mother it becomes even harder.

I loved this story and the dance of denial the hero and heroine are involved in. They have both pushed any thought of emotional involvement from their lives but for Chloe, baby Aden has breached the barrier, leaving her vulnerable.

What happens when these two start to open up to each other is amazing. There is one wow moment that made me fall for Sayid so hard. I just loved the book and the stress on the importance of love and hope for the future.

Heir to a Dark Inheritance.

Alik is a bad bad man. His only redeeming feature is his loyalty to his friend Sayid, from the companion book Heir to a Desert Legacy. He's not anyone's idea of good husband and father material. But he is, reluctantly, a father.

Widowed Jada has been caring for his child since the death of the mother. All she wants is to be Leena's mother. She's already been a wife and being Alik's wife would only be bearable because of baby Leena.
Watching these two make a convenient marriage is like watching gunpowder in a candle shop. It is a disaster waiting to happen. A disaster full of sizzle and sark.
Somehow Maisey makes it work through the darkest depths to a HEA that is believable at the last.

Being a Fangirl also means you do ridiculous things like find naked dolls in thrift shops and immediately realise that they look just like the hero and heroine in the latest release.  Then you take photos and turn them into a gif simply because you can.

Alik makes the moves on Jada

Finally you become so obsessed with the characters that you write fanfiction where your characters meet their characters.

Alik Fanfic

The nurse was giggling again.  Ruslan quivered with anticipation.  He knew what that meant.  Squirming against the pillows, he craned his neck to try and see the door of the pan room.  The other boys in the ward slept on, the drugs doled out at bedtime doing their job.

Ruslan probed under his pillows for the tissue wrapped parcel.  Seven of the little blue sleeping pills,  fourteen of the white ones they gave out for bad pain.  Alik would be pleased.

The noises were reaching a crescendo, the gasps and little squeaks from the nurse followed by a masculine grunt and then silence.  A whisper and a rustle.

The nurse shot back into the ward, smoothing down her skirt.   She always boasted about being engaged to the other staff, but when Alik came around she tucked her engagement ring in the pocket of her coat that hung at the nurse’s station.   She settled at the desk, carefully not looking towards Ruslan’s bed.  He wondered exactly what was so special about Alik that she would break hospital rules to let him in after visiting hours.

Finally Alik sauntered into the room, his dark hair ruffled, his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his fatigues.  He looked older than sixteen, bulky in the heavy jacket and taller than anyone.  Ruslan wriggled to try and straighten in the bed.  One day.  When he’d had his operation.  He would be just like Alik.

‘Hey Ruslan.’

‘Hello Alik.’

‘What do you have for me?’

Carefully, Ruslan held out the tissue.  ‘Seven and fourteen, this time.  I’m getting good at it.  That trick you showed me works every time.’

The older boy counted the pills and slipped them into his pocket.  ‘You did okay kid.’

The hand came out again with a paper bag.  Grinning up at his idol, Ruslan took the bag.  ‘Chocolate?’

‘Da.’  Alik looked across at the nurse.  ‘Three this time.  You’ll need to make them last.’

Reaching across, Ruslan put the bag on the cupboard.  ‘Are you going away again?’

‘ Maybe.’   That cool, blue-grey gaze sparked with some emotion.  ‘Can you keep a secret kid?’

‘Of course.   You know that.’  He winced as a sharp pain stabbed at his spine.  He shouldn’t have twisted when he’d moved.

Straight away Alik bent over, studying his face with those piercing eyes.  ‘Are you sure you should be giving me the painkillers?’

‘It’s alright.  I just moved wrong.  I have my operation soon.  Then I can come and work with you.’

‘That’s not going to happen.’

‘But they promised.’  Ruslan’s heart jumped into his throat.  ‘They said I’d be able to walk after the operation.’

‘Sure you will.  But you won’t be working with me.’

‘Why not?   You said I was smart.  Just as smart as you.’

‘I’m not going to be around after tonight.’

‘Are you in trouble?’

‘No.  Not yet.  But if I hang around…’

‘Where will you go?’

‘That’s a secret.   I don’t want you to have to lie.  They don’t like liars.’

Ruslan blinked hard.  Alik never cried so he wouldn’t cry.  Crying’s for babies.  He was nearly a man, like Alik.

‘Will I see you again?’

‘I’m leaving the country.  It won’t be safe for me to come back.’

‘Never?’

‘I don’t know.  I’ll be following the money.  That could take me anywhere.’

‘You could write to me.  I could write back and tell you what’s happening here.’  Alik’s face hardened.  Sometimes it was easy to believe the rumours.   Ruslan didn’t want to believe them, but somehow he just did. 

 ‘Look kid, this was business.  It’s not like we’re friends.  What makes you think I’d be interested in hearing your problems?’

‘Not friends?’

‘You’re eleven years old and stuck in a hospital.  I’ve got better things to do than write letters to some kid I’m never going to see again.’

It was a different pain this time.  Ruslan preferred the other one.  It  didn’t make it hard to breath.

‘I’m sorry.  I didn’t understand.’

Alik shrugged, avoiding his eyes. ‘I’m sorry too, kid.  But it was just business.’

Ruslan watched him leave, not sauntering this time.  Striding past the nurse with a brisk nod of dismissal.

Are you an Issues Writer? - Sarah M Anderson

Indigenous Issues and their portrayal.

A look at vintage cinema and the modern romance.  A totally random holiday post.

I'm an American Indian fan from way back though sadly disadvantaged being an Australian.  I'm old enough to remember all those movies from the sixties and seventies with John Wayne, Gary Cooper, Glenn Ford, Audie Murphy and so on.  I saw all those Spaghetti Westerns with Clint Eastwood and Terrence Hill.  I saw The Magnificent Seven and fell in love with James Coburn.

I also saw A Man Called Horse and Little Big Man. Along with a relatively unknown school library book "Comanche", a book that was quite graphic despite being targeted at young teens.  They made a big impact on me. (I have Googled for the book and all I find is one by Fabio)

American Indians are perceived as much more romantic than our own indigenous people here in Australia.  The most well known movie about an Australian Aborigine made in the seventies was "The Chant of Jimmy Blacksmith."  It is about a part indigenous young man who struggles to cope with his place in the world. Jimmy murdered everyone in such a violent and bloodthirsty manner that half the people in the cinema in Cunnamulla walked out.  It probably did nothing for race relations in a town that was 50% indigenous.

Even "Jedda," a more sympathetic portrayal of a young indigenous woman brought up in a white world, made by Australian film maker Charles Chauvel in 1955, ends badly for the young woman, torn between her attraction to a tradition male and a half-breed who would keep her in the white world. Recently we have  movies like Samson and Delilah dealing with the alienation of indigenous young people and  "Rabbit Proof Fence" is about the stolen generations, when indigenous children were taken from their families to be brought up in white homes and on mission stations.

So what does all this have to do with Sarah M Anderson.  It is probably about a year ago I first read a Sarah M Anderson book.  She writes about Cowboys and Indians with emphasis on the Indians.  It is because of this that I would class her as an issues writer.  She doesn't beat you over the head with it.  The books are primarily about the romance.   But you can't help learning a little along the way.

All of the books I've read by Sarah have American Indians in strong lead roles.  Women and men who are dealing with the conflict that comes when one group in society is disadvantaged.  That disadvantage can be manifested in many ways, economically, educationally and in most cases, a disparity of power.   They also deal with the dichotomy between fitting into the broader society in order to work with the powers that be and maintaining the links to tribe and culture.

The first book in her new Bolton Brothers series has just been released (what's not to love about men on motorbikes.) This is a totally gratuitous link to a blog that features hot men & bikes & cars.

Straddling the Line by Sarah M Anderson   *****

Sarah M. Anderson has written another of her amazing stories about conflict between cultures and the struggle to find who you are when you are literally 'Straddling the Line'.  I love it when the title of the book can have multiple meanings and this is one of those.

Josey White-Plume doesn't know which side of the line she really belongs.  She's tried living in the white man's world in New York and it didn't work out. So she's come home to the Reservation to try living in her Lakota world.  She is desperate to be accepted as one of the Tribe and is working her darnedest to be the person she thinks will be welcomed.  The last thing she needs is to be attracted to Ben Bolton, a numbers cruncher white guy.

Ben is also struggling to find his place in his own tribe, the Bolton family.  He doesn't quite fit, trying to walk the line between his father's old fashioned obsessions and making their motor cycle business viable in the modern world.  When Josey walks into his life, wanting help for the school she is helping build on the Reservation she opens his eyes to so much more.

How these two interact, the relationship they build is just beautiful to see. Josey and Ben are two very different people but they compliment each other in their strengths and weaknesses.  They have a lot to teach each other and a lot to learn.  Together they are amazing. Together they can straddle the line between two worlds and make it work for both of them.