Margery Scott

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

To scare away all the evil spirits, here are a few riddles I found while I was surfing the web. They’re pretty corny, but you might want to pass them along tonight when the little trick-or-treaters are at your door. Oh, and please try to hold back your groans until the end 🙂

Q: Why was the skeleton afraid to cross the road?
A: It had no guts.

Q: Do zombies eat popcorn with their fingers?
A: No, they eat the fingers separately.

Q: What do ghosts add to their morning cereal?
A: Booberries.

Q: What do you get when you cross a vampire and a snowman?
A: Frostbite.

Q: What kind of pants to ghosts wear?
A: Boojeans.

Q: What do you give a vampire with a cold?
A: Coffindrops.

Q: Why did the vampires cancel their baseball game?
A: They couldn’t find their bats.

Anyone have any others?

This week’s short excerpt comes from Wild Wyoming Wind, my western historical romance.

Jake smiled as the wooden door closed on him. The woman had a temper. Not a lick of sense, but enough guts to stand up to him more than many men had.

Yep, he thought, she’s quite a woman, considering her size. Hell, he was sure he could wrap his hands around her waist and still have room left over. Come to think of it, he hadn’t wrapped his arms around a woman in quite some time. That could explain why his mind was on her instead of his job. That could get them both killed.

Wild Wyoming Wind is available on Amazon, BN.com, Smashwords and AllRomanceEbooks

This is a short excerpt from Devil’s Harvest, available now from Amazon

He’d been waiting for her. And now he was going to kill her, too.
Taryn raised her hands to push him away. She wasn’t quick enough. He shifted his weight, moved closer. The hard wall of his body pressed her into the soft leather seat, trapping her hands between them. Beneath her fingers, she felt the play of muscles in his chest.
He leaned close. His face was only inches from hers. His breath smelled of mint, and coffee. It was warm on her cheek when he spoke. “Take it easy,” he said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Sure he won’t, Taryn thought. How many murder victims have heard that line before they ended up buried in a shallow grave in the middle of nowhere?
Don’t panic. Stay calm. Think. Fight.
She squirmed, shoved against his chest. Tried to connect her foot with any part of him. It was useless. He didn’t budge. In fact, it didn’t seem to take any effort whatsoever to keep her still. And he knew it. He held her, securely but without hurting her, against his body. Waiting, she knew. Knowing that eventually she’d tire herself out.
The pressure of his hand relaxed until only two fingers rested against her lips. “Shh. Don’t bother screaming. Nobody will hear you.”
She glared at him. He was right. The parking lot was practically deserted at this time of night. A silver SUV in the back corner, Stan’s maroon convertible straddling the line, as it always did. A few other vehicles belonging to staff who wouldn’t be off duty for another hour or so.
A faint bass beat drifted through the night air from the radio on the security guard’s desk. She might as well save her breath. He wouldn’t hear her scream. She kept fighting. But she was weakening. They both knew it. It was only a matter of time.
“Stop struggling. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
True. She was only wearing herself out. So much for all those years of aerobics and weight training.
She had to think. She needed to save whatever strength she had left. At some point, she’d get her chance to escape. She had to be ready when it came. She nodded slightly, and slumped against the seat.
“Keep still. Understand?” His voice was low, tense.
Taryn understood only too well. She understood she was in serious trouble. The only way she was going to survive was by keeping her wits about her. She couldn’t afford to panic. She couldn’t afford to make him angry. As long as she stayed calm, she could find a way out of this alive.

When my family first arrived in Canada, my mother got a job in a local department store. In those days, there was no food court, just a “lunch counter”, a long counter with a dozen or so padded stools riveted to the floor. Every day, I’d meet my mother for lunch. Once or twice a week, she’d offer (actually, she’d finally give in to my badgering) and let me have a chocolate soda. Only chocolate would do. In fact, I don’t even remember what other flavors were available.

A real chocolate soda started with chocolate syrup, a tall glass filled with ice cream, and carbonated water. It foamed up and over the top of the glass and always came with both a straw and a spoon.

I don’t know when sodas disappeared from the menu, but when my boys were young, root beer and 7-Up floats became popular – a pale imitation. Without chocolate, they just didn’t do it for me.

I suddenly have an urge to play Rock Around the Clock on the CD player and fix myself a chocolate soda. How about you?
Have you ever had a real chocolate ice cream soda?

Hmm…is it even possible to buy carbonated water these days?