Sneak Peak Sunday! FRESH ICE!

Good evening Friends!

Not sure if I've mentioned it, but I recently released my third novel, Fresh Ice  (Don't be confused, there are two books out there with the same title...mine is, well mine.  By SARAH J. BRADLEY)  Anyway, the tale of former figure skater Isabella "Izzy" Marks seems to resonate with most readers, so I thought I'd give you all a little more of  a peak into her world.  At this point in the book, she's decided to leave Wisconsin for good and move to Nashville to be closer to her daughter, who is attending college there.    Oh, and there's this sort of mystery guy she saw at a club...and she's intrigued.  So here you go!  (and for those of you NOT into Kindle, this book is also available for the Nook, any e-reader, if you click HERE!  It's also available in print if you click HERE!

            Izzy sipped her iced tea and tried to ignore the chatter floating around her like cottonwood pollen. Jenna and Mikayla carried on a loud discussion about what they would wear on the first day of classes. Izzy knew it was a hilarious conversation, simply by looking at Adele’s disapproving glare. Sean, probably thinking about the long day’s drive he had ahead of him in the morning, was quieter than normal, which only emphasized Izzy’s own lack of participation.

            I have to stay focused. I have to think of exactly the right words to somehow make this decision seem right for everyone involved, including Adele.

            “Ladies, I hate to break up your chit chat,” Sean pushed his chair back from the table, but we have a long drive tomorrow and us oldsters need our sleep.”

            Adele looked at her watch. “Oh you are right, Sean. Okay, girls, give me a hug.” She stood and held her arms out wide. Jenna and Mikayla stood and positioned themselves into her iron embrace. Izzy knew, from the girls’ body language, that this hug was not soft and motherly.

            If she’s hard and unyielding with the girls, what’s she going to be like with me when I flat out defy her?

            “Come on Izzy,” Adele could have been summoning a dog to her side. “Let’s go.”

            “No.”

            The word was out before Izzy had time to second guess herself. It hung in the air like the glow of an unexpected bold of lighting.

            “I’m sorry. What did you say?” Adele put her hands on her hips, a fighter, waiting for the bell.

            Sean and the girls froze in their positions. Only their eyes moved back and forth from Adele to Izzy.

            “I said no, I’m not coming with you.” Izzy struggled to keep a fearful waver out of her tone.

            Adele’s expression clouded. “I see. So you’re having a few moments with the girls before you turn in?”

            “No. I mean I’m not coming back to Wisconsin. I’m staying in Nashville.”

            Sean and the girls slipped back to seating positions and waited.

            “You’re staying here?”

            “Yes.”

            “You’re not coming back?”

            “No.” Izzy shook her head for emphasis.

            “What do you intend to do?”

            “I guess I’ll do what people do. I’ll find a place to live, a place to work. There’s nothing for me back in Wisconsin. The house is foreclosed, my job won’t support me.”

            “Oh, and there are so many opportunities here? What kind of job do you think you’ll get here? There isn’t much of a market for a former figure skater with no education and bad credit.”

            Adele’s words stung like a slap to the face. Izzy blinked, and glanced at Jenna, whose expression of fury steeled Izzy’s resolve. “My daughter is here. I have, or will have, enough money to get a modest place.”

            “How do you have any money?” Adele waited a beat. “Unless that man you were with paid you. Just how good are you that you can snag a dirty musician and suddenly have enough money to make a major move like this?”

            “Mom!” Mikayla shouted. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

            “No Mikayla, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Remember yesterday when she was so sick she couldn’t help you move? Well, I found her out with a man, and they looked like they were headed to bed.”

            “All right Aunt Iz!” Mikayla cheered.

            “Adele, shut up.” Izzy kept her voice low. Fear was gone, replaced by righteous anger. “I was not headed to bed with a man. Collier was my best friend growing up. We happened to meet yesterday purely by chance. We talked, we had dinner. And then he put me in a cab and I went back to the hotel. Alone.” She glanced at Jenna, who gave her an uncertain smile.

            “Well at least you can’t ruin him like you ruined Jason. He’s already homeless.”

            Izzy staggered back at the force of this unexpected blow. “I didn’t ruin anything for Jason.”

            “That’s not the way I remember it.”

            “Adele, that’s enough,” Sean said quietly.

            “No, Sean, this is a long time coming. My brother had everything going to him until her father bribed him to skate with her and then she trapped him with a pregnancy.”

            “Your brother was a grown man who got a young girl pregnant.” Sean’s face turned a shade of red Izzy had never seen on him.

            “Yes, and had she gotten the abortion like we all told her she should have, he wouldn’t have been exiled in shame.”

            “Mother…shut the hell up!” Mikayla put her arm around Jenna. “Do you listen to anything that falls out of that gaping pie hole of yours or do you just say every damn word that comes to your head?” Mikayla eased a stunned looking Jenna out of the booth. “You are one foul bitch. For your information, Aunt Izzy won the lottery. Not a million bucks, but certainly enough to tell your queen bitch ass to go to hell.”

            “Mikayla! Language!”

            “Whatever.” Mikayla hugged Sean, who was now also standing. “Sorry Dad. Have a safe trip back. Come on Jenna.”

            Without another word, the girls walked out.

            “Do you see what you did?” Adele turned on Izzy, her eyes blazing.

            “What I did? What I did? I didn’t do anything to you.” Izzy took three steps toward the door.

            “Everything you owe me, and this is how you repay me?”

            Izzy paused, her hand hovering over the knob. The idea of owing Adele anything froze her. “What on earth could I possibly owe you?”

            “If it weren’t for us, you and Jason would have been on the street.”

            “Adele, Jason more than paid for that and you know it.”

            Adele whirled her viper eyes on Sean. “Shut up Sean! That was nothing! That was a pittance! We gave them a life, we gave them livelihood!”

            “They paid for that. Izzy’s more than paid her share.”

            Izzy stared at Sean, his intense glare of defiance surprising her. Sean never stood up to Adele. What does he mean, we paid for it?

            “It wasn’t enough given the years I’ve had to put up with this!”

            Izzy’s glance whipped back to Sean as she waited for a spirited rebuttal, but the look was gone, replaced by his usual slack expression of defeat. I’m on my own against her again. Izzy squared her shoulders. “Well, Adele, I’m so very sorry you’ve had to put up with me all these years. So I guess I’m taking that huge task away from you. Whatever will you do with all the time you’ll have, now that you can’t think up ways to blame me for everything?” She didn’t wait for a response, and given the purple hue to Adele’s face, it was doubtful the one she got would have been pleasant. She whipped the door open and charged through it, rage speeding her steps.

            Once out on the street, the warm night air did little to calm her. She started up the street with a vague notion of tracking down Jenna. She didn’t realize she was nearly running until she crashed into another pedestrian and fell down.

            “Hey, where’s the fire?” The tall man held out his hand.

            “Thank you. I’m so sorry…oh, it’s you…” Her knees went weak as she looked into the clear, beautiful eyes of the mystery man from Jason’s funeral.

            He smiled, and kept his hand on her arm. “Yes it is.”

            “I’m so sorry. I mean, you’re the guy from the other night, the one who introduced the bands. Quinn…something.” Why am I blanking on his last name?

            “Yes. Yes, that’s what my stage name is; Quinn Something.”

            Izzy brushed herself off. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit preoccupied.”

            “I gathered that.”

            “Well, anyway.” She shook his hand. “Thank you for your help, Quinn Something.”

            “You’re very welcome, Miss. Look, can I buy you a cup of coffee or something?”

            Izzy looked up into Quinn’s face. Again she was mesmerized by his eyes. “Are you in the habit of asking out complete strangers?”

            “No, of course not. But we’re not complete strangers.”

            “Really?”

            “Really. I mean, you saw me at Chance’s, and we just ran into each other here. Plus, we know 25% of our combined names. We’re nearly old friends.”

            “Ah. So what would we be if we knew each others’ full names?”

            “Well, this is the South. We’d be kissin’ cousins.” He gave her a dizzying smile.

            Her knees went weak, and Izzy laughed out loud to cover her sudden flash of arousal. Her anger at Adele shed itself from her like a heavy coat. There was something about Quinn that put her at ease. Also, there were his beautiful eyes. “Say, you don’t have a twin, do you?”

            “No. Why do you ask?”

            “Then we have met before. My name is Isabella Marks, but everyone calls me Izzy. But you must have already known that.”

            A shadow crossed his face. “Why do you say that?”

            “You were at my husband’s funeral, back in March.”

            Quinn was quiet for a long moment, his eyes darkened. “Yes, I was there.”

            Briefly Izzy wondered why admitting that fact was so difficult for him. She decided not to pursue the line of questioning.

            “So they call you Izzy.” He seemed happy to change the subject. “That is a  properly Southern nickname.”

            “I grew up here.”

            “Okay then, Miss Izzy,” he bowed low, and used an exaggerated Southern accent, “my full name is Quinn Murray. I did not grow up here, but here is where I have taken root.” He took her hand and brushed his lips lightly on the tips of her fingers. “So, where would you like to go?”

            “I don’t suppose there’s anyplace I could get some good coffee and grits, is there? I have a sudden urge for grits.”

            “Miss Izzy, this is the South. Finding grits here is like finding cheese curds in Wisconsin. And I know the perfect place for grits this time of night.”

            Ten minutes later, Izzy and Quinn were seated in a Waffle House, waiting for their food to arrive.

            “So Mr. Murray…”

            “Call me Quinn, please.”

            “Quinn. What are you celebrating?”

            “I do some charity events at Bridgestone Center and I just got something lined up for the spring that could help a very worthy cause in a big, big way. And today I got permission to use the Center for the event. I’m pretty excited about it.”

            “Well that is a reason to celebrate.” She set her coffee cup down. “You said some of the Admiral players were your friends. Are you a hockey player?”

            Quinn took a long time stirring cream into his coffee before he answered. “I work for the Nashville Predators, that’s the NHL affiliate of the Milwaukee Admirals.” He took her hand in his. “Ja-Your husband seemed to be well liked. I am sorry for your loss.”

            There’s something about his expression. He doesn’t look all that sorry.

            I’m imagining things.

            “Thank you. It’s been a big adjustment. I’ve just decided to move back to Nashville. My daughter is starting at Vanderbilt and I’ve got nothing holding me in Wisconsin.” Remembering Adele’s hurtful words, Izzy shook her head. “I’m celebrating moving back.”

            Quinn smiled at her, his clear blue-green eyes lighting up. “Well, then, I guess welcome back Izzy Marks. Welcome home.”

SNEAK PEAK SUNDAY! Fresh Ice

Good afternoon!

From the looks of things, many of you are finding my most recent novel, Fresh Ice.  It's heartening to see more reviews of the book on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.  Remember, if you read it and you liked it, no matter who the author is, let other readers know!

Meanwhile, here's a chapter for you.  I feel in love with the city of Nashville, Tennessee, a few years ago and wanted to write something set there.  Somehow, in building the character that eventually became Quinn Murray, it seemed so right that he lived in Music City.

Enjoy!


Izzy stood leaned over the railing and soaked in the sounds of the city. There was something peaceful about the sleepy silence that settled like a blanket over a district that had, as recently as four hours earlier, throbbed with music and barbeque and neon. She sipped the coffee she’d made herself in the tiny hotel coffee pot and wondered if she could truly pull herself away and go back to Wisconsin.

“Mornin’ Iz.” Adele stepped out of her room, still clad in her t shirt and lounge pants. “It’s really quiet this morning, isn’t it?”

“I know Like the whole city is sleeping.”

“Are you feeling any better?”

Izzy rubbed her eyes, trying to wipe away the faint ache that lingered within her. Surprised by Adele’s rare show of concern, Izzy was honest. “A bit. I took some Tylenol PM and pretty much just zonked out. How late was it before you guys got in?”

Adele stretched her arms over her head. “Late enough. But we should get the girls up. We’ve got a lot of moving in to do today.”

Izzy glanced to the parking lot where the U-haul trailer attached to Sean’s van waited for them. She suddenly felt exhausted, drained of any energy. “Adele, I don’t think I can help today.”

“What are you saying? Of course you can.” The civil tone, and the concern that went with it, were gone.

“I don’t think I can. I’m sorry. I’m exhausted and I need some rest.”

“Fine, fine. Don’t help move your own daughter in to the dormitory. Sean and I will just do that, just like we’ll have to move you into the house when we get home.”

Izzy bit the inside of her cheek, keeping her temper in check. “I’m sorry, Adele. I’m just not feeling well.”

Adele gave her a doubtful look, but said nothing more. Instead, she pounded on the girls’ door and shouted, “Girls! It’s moving in day! Get up!” before slamming her door.

“Holy carp, Mom, what’s up her butt?” Jenna emerged from her room.

“Don’t say butt, Jenna. She’s actually a little put out with me. I can’t help you guys move in today.”

“Still not feeling well?”

“Just not feeling up to moving.”

Jenna put an arm around her mother. “It’s cool, Mom. You know I don’t have much of anything to move it. It’s Mikayla that’s got all that furniture. Probably why Aunt Adele’s so bent, she knows it’s going to be a complete bitch to move up the stairs.”

“Jenna!”

“Sorry, I know that’s vulgar.” Jenna grinned, reminding Izzy a little of Jason in the days when they shared little jokes. “You feel better, Mom. I’ll check in with you tonight when we get home.”

“Thanks honey. You’re a good kid.”

“I have a good mom.” Jenna hugged Izzy, and returned to her room to get dressed.

Izzy returned to her room as well, turned the AC on high, curled up under some blankets and fell asleep.

**

Quinn checked the clock. Two more hours.

As he expected, Serena was not easily coaxed from her foul mood. Thanks to his short conversation with the two young women the night before, he’d had to do penance. Serena informed him moments after a fairly tawdry session in her bedroom, he was to fill in the Sunday afternoon spot.

She’s still blaming me for those girls calling her my mother.

The good news is, no one cares what I do, on a Sunday afternoon because everyone is at the Volunteers opening game of the season, and we aren’t airing it. So I can rerun a Titans game from five years ago and no one is going to care.

Checking the dials to make sure the rerun game was still playing properly, Quinn leaned back in his chair and allowed himself a rare moment of reflection on his history with the woman who held his darkest secret in her dangerous hands.

Serena Shipley Chapman, former world class figure skater, was also a world-class hellfire. Too well, he knew the story of Serena’s humiliation at the hands of Jason Masters, her long time skating partner. The fact that Serena experienced her biggest humiliation months after Jason left skating forever didn’t seem to figure into her equation of hate. She blamed him for forcing her to skate as a single.

More precisely, she blames Isabella Landry for stealing Jason and forcing her to skate as a single.

Getting on the Olympic team as a single’s skater was nothing more than a foot in the door for Serena; just enough of a push to get her on the plane. When the US champion shattered her ankle in practice, Serena got her golden moment.

Her story of how she was even at the event spread like wildfire. The relentless media dug up as much as they could on the strange chain of events that put Serena Shipley on Olympic Ice, alone.

The short program lasted two minutes.

In all the years Quinn had known her, Serena Shipley Chapman talked endlessly about everything else surrounding her skating career. But those two minutes of her life were a silent void. It didn’t take long before curiosity got the best of Quinn and he found the clip on the internet.

Even now, Quinn couldn’t stop a perverse little smile from crossing his face. To say the short program was a disaster was a complete understatement. Unaccustomed to skating alone, and skating a program she’d put together on the plane ride to the Olympics, Serena’s luck ran out. In two minutes, Quinn counted three outright crashes, two skipped tricks, and a triple axel that turned into an awkward single. Applause for her was lukewarm, unlike her scores, which were ice cold.

In the following days the press was merciless. Writers pointed to her age and her ego as the reasons for her failure. Stories about her backstage tantrums surfaced. Two days later, mere hours before she was to skate her long program, Serena contracted a sudden case of the flu. More rumors and commentaries flurried around her. By the time Serena flew home, every sports program and tabloid magazine mocked and reviled her.

But in true Serena fashion, she landed on her feet. Or, at least she landed on her back in the bed of someone who had enough money to put her on her feet.

For reasons no one understood completely, Serena moved to Nashville, hometown to the woman she blamed for everything; Isabella Landry. Isabella, of course, was already gone, vanished with Jason under a cloud of scandal after pregnancy rumors arose.

If Serena wanted immediate revenge, she was sorely disappointed.

Serena got a job as station manager at WNSH. That, of course, was a cover for her real intentions. She caught the eye of the aging station owner, Burkes Chapman. As the rest of the world prepared for another Winter Olympics, Serena Shipley married a very silent part owner of the Nashville Predators, and the richest man in Nashville.

She hated sitting with Burkes at the games. Quinn smiled at the thought of the lovely Serena standing in Burkes’ cloud of cigar smoke and bourbon. Old Man Chapman adored her…almost as much as his cigars and those Civil War pistols he has displayed in his owners’ box at Bridgestone Center. He gave her everything she wanted.

Except that gold medal.

The first time Quinn saw her, he was finishing his final game with the Predators. It wasn’t common knowledge to the fans, but the writing was on the wall. The Preds tired quickly of his bad boy image, and wanted to trade him. Quinn didn’t want a trade. He was done getting passed around the league like a bad joke. By then he’d fallen in love with Nashville.

It’s not that hard, even after everything, to remember how regal she was, looking down from the owners’ box. She was the queen. We were just part of her kingdom.

He must have made an impression on Serena as well, because a week after he retired, Quinn received and invitation to an owners’ event. Burkes was there, jovial country boy that he was, and Serena was on his arm. A brief conversation with the two of them, and the next thing Quinn knew he was the WNSH color commentator for Predators games.

Then Burkes died, and Serena took over.

And then Sally.

“Quinn Murray, what…the…hell are you doing here on a Sunday?”

Quinn shook himself to attention. Benny glared at him from the studio door. “I guess this should put to rest any ideas you have that I get special treatment from the boss, right?”

“Not really. I bet she’s tweaked because of your moment in the spotlight last night.”

Quinn smiled. “You are living proof that even a blind horse finds the gate once in a while.”

“You’re the horse that should have put on blinders last night, dude. I saw Serena. When are you going to get that she is never amused when other women drool on you?”

“She gave me an earful after I took her home.”

“I’ll bet. But dude, seriously, you could have mentioned the station once when you were on stage. She probably wouldn’t have minded quite so much.”

“I wasn’t there to promote the station. I was doing a friend a favor.”

“Your good deeds will kill you one day, my friend.” Benny adjusted his chair. “Yeah, well, you are owned by WNSH and you aren’t supposed to be going out into the public without express written permission from the headmistress. You know that.”

Quinn stood and stretched his arms over his head. “I just forgot.”

“At least tell me you noticed some of the prime women that were there. At least tell me you’re not completely dead inside.”

The image of Isabella Landry, standing in the balcony, came to his mind. The idea of someone like Benny staring at her like a piece of meat made Quinn’s stomach roll. “And you wonder why you can’t get a date, when you talk about women like that.”

“That’s a yes!” Benny raised his hand for a high five. Quinn responded with little enthusiasm. “You spotted someone and you’re trying to be cool because she’s classy, right? Although what a classy chick would be doing in a place like Chance’s is beyond me.”

“You’re a pig, Benny. And it’s time for you to go to work. The game I was airing is almost over.” Quinn pointed to the control board as he walked out of the studio.