Cora Blu Tuesday Teaser/ Secret lover

Lena’ s adoptive dad, Patrick and his girlfriend

Thank you for following my Tuesday Teasers all this year. Some weeks fantasy some contemporary. Reminder: Once you purchase “The Man He’ll Never Be” email me and I will send the deleted scene. Dillon’s a naughty boy.
***Tuesday Teaser*** Patrick, Lena’s father from The Man He’ll Never Be, is speaking with his secret girlfriend over the phone.
“Lena found some of your things left in my duffle this morning. I told her to stay out of my business.”
“Oh, Patrick, I’m so sorry… My lipstick case?”
He couldn’t mask his desire for her even over the phone. “And that pretty little lacy bra I like.”
“The one you stole in the woods,” XXX charged him, followed by a short pause. “I feel terrible. This is my fault.”
“It’s not your fault. Many times I wanted to sit her down and tell her.” How did he chance losing his daughter for the truth?
“Patrick… she’s a smart young lady, not a child. She might never accept me, but she deserves to know the truth.”
A grown man hiding his girlfriend from his daughter.
“To a man that can’t father a child… Lena was a gift. I can’t hurt my daughter, XXX… I can’t. There are times when I look at her and wonder what my life would be like if she weren’t there when Michelle died.”
“Patrick, don’t do this to yourself. Lena’s bound to get hurt, no matter how she finds out. Just make sure you two have a relationship on the other side. We’ll get through this… together.”
“I love you, sweetheart.”
“Be good and I’ll wear the panties to the bra your stole.”
“Honey, you’re killing me.”
Thanks for sharing a moment with Patrick and his secret girlfriend. To watch this mature love blossom read “The Man He’ll Never Be” two romances grow before your eyes.
Follow the boards as usual on Pinterest for my inspiration shots.
Sincerely, Cora Blu

Cora Blu Tuesday Teaser/ On sale for Radio

Today until till Saturday, I’ve lowered

Poster for Contemporary

 the price of Stranded but not Alone and my NEW RELEASE, The Man He’ll Never Be to $2.85 on
Below is an excerpt from The Man…
Lena Morgan, free lance photographer, is searching for her father’s killer. Just last night she was just reunited with the boy from her past, now a full grown delicious man.
We join her on the waterfront downtown taking pics and fuming over her search being banned down at the police dept.
Banned… banned… She was banned from the files. The flags were raised more than ever now. Connor’s death was closed and sealed and so were the files of criminals he’d put away over the years. She couldn’t believe Officer Maxwell wouldn’t grant her access. She still wasn’t going out with him, regardless. She’d find a way into those files. There had to be another way to access the information.
She found a parking spot in the underground parking lot, her least favorite place to park, next to the roof. She jumped on the elevator and made her way to
the waterfront. Catching a glimpse of the woman street cleaners, she bolted across Woodward and found her spot. She’d found civil service workers to be some of the friendliest people if you just gave them the respect they deserved.
She watched as Detroit’s mounted police trotted their beautiful chocolate and black horses down the street. Heavy fog rolled off the Detroit River. She made her selection and waved. It was tough working with the letters swirling through her mind. Concentration became a chore.
The cop sat proud on his mount, switching to his GQ pose. Back straight, arms roped with hard muscles held the reigns against his strong thighs. Hard black leather boots snug, gripping his wide calf. Chest high, his pecs stressed the dark material begging to be unbuttoned, freeing what lied beneath.
Good grief, she had to get Dillon out of her head or she’d never get this shot. She refocused, the gray morning held a threat of rain. With a foot on the bench to steady her shot, her black trousers pulled across her thighs, reminding her how Dillon helped her dress that morning. He lingered on the zipper, kissing her naval before catching the metal clasp. His lips soft and warm.
“Excuse me, miss.” A women’s voice startled Lena. “What time is it?”
“Oh, ah…” She peeked at her watch. “Eight forty.”
“Thanks, just enough time to grab a coffee… Don’t stare at the cop too long… might run you in, have a good day.”
Heat moved along her spine, embarrassed. “Trying to get the light right… You have a good one…” The
woman waved her on. The graceful horse whinnied, but held the pose like a pro. Nostrils flared alongside his angular face. The strong lines rigid and majestic. The mounted police gave a cursory nod of approval, and she clicked away.
A perfect shot as light fog rolled in off the Detroit River, masking the hooves of the massive animal. She stepped close to the building, avoided the morning foot traffic and shook Mr. Zerbrowski from her mind.
Straddling his lap on the chaise lounge that morning calmed her nerves until she realized only cotton brief boxers kept him under wraps. His body had been hard and a few scars ran the length of his forearm. He was not just some man, but her Dillon, still yet to explain leaving the country in the eleventh grade. Or the fierce hate for Patrick. They’d acted like two rutting bulls in the hospital.
She held up a hand to the officer, as he waved and trotted on down to the waterfront.
Locust trees dotted the sidewalk like lollipops out of a fairytale. Lifting her camera, she aimed and shot.
She pressed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose, forgot to put her contacts while messing with Dillon that morning. Squatting beneath the locust tree, careful of the grate encircling the trunk, she combed a finger through the curly locks over her ears, then refocused her lens up the trunk.
Snap… whirr… snap.
The small yellow leaves appeared to drift through the rising fog as tear drops from the sun, crying through the haze. Flipping a glance to her wrist, she noticed the time, nine a.m. The fog would be thicker on

the waterfront. She’d grab a coffee and head on down.

The temperature off the River had to be ten to fifteen degrees cooler in the morning. Grateful for her wool peacoat, she lowered herself down to the half wall giving her attention to the pulsing currents slapping the barrier.
“Mind if I share your coffee, Lena?”
Jerking her head up, she cringed. Her coffee hit the grass. “Richard.” Lena reeled back, fists balling. “You’re not supposed to come within…”
Thanks for reading and slip over to Pinterest and see what lovely gift my daughter made her mom. A bracelet of my books.
Can’t wait to hear from you Saturday.
Sincerely, Cora Blu

"Wrong Time" Cora Blu

Newsletter Free Story.

***Part of scene four*** Join the newsletter to receive the first three scenes. 

Wrong Time”

by Author Cora Blu

copyright 2012

(Last month we left Sadie and Savannah staring at the folder open on the in house office floor and Savannah giving Sadie the rest of the day off.)

Kneeling on the toilet lid, crushing the fluffy lid cover and ear pressed to the wall, it was all Sadie could do to hear their conversation. She’d taken in everything she could hear trying to find out why her name was on those bank papers.

Staring at the towel bar absently, she listened to the men talking through the wall. Wasn’t that Mr. Colson, from West Bank? “Only three shipping dates left,” he started, voice dropping off then picked up. “It shuts down after that right… something about no light?”

“Shipments,” she mouthed, scrunching her nose. “What was they running moonshine up north?” What she heard next made no sense, but made her think of the news report her sister mentioned about going to the moon, the other week. Sadie held her breath trying to hear.

“They’ll be two shipments to sector five this delivery and one to sector twelve. Coded cylinders… sector twelve. Uncoded–five. After I receive shipment confirmation, deposits will be transferred to your particular banks. It’s imperative you break down your deposits into less than five thousand dollars deposits or they will be flagged. After this is over destroy the code word. Never use it again.” Was this sector five a code name, Sadie questioned… for another country maybe? Were they selling something illegal to the enemy? “Wixom,” Mr. Edwards said. “Your clients from Detroit and Colson’s from Pennsylvania, those are slated to go to sector Twelve. This is the last month for deliveries until the Spring,” Mr. Edwards said.

“What about your contact?” a soft spoken man said. “Able to arrange for our shipments to go to the other side–the dark side? Thirty percent deal you mentioned last week.”

Some one was moving around the bar in Mr. Edwards office. She could hear the crystal rock glasses clanking over the Formica counter top. Sadie wasn’t cleaning up broken glass because hey were careless with other folks belongings. Gripping the tank cover she kept listening.

“Clean shipments one hundred grand. Unfiltered, seventy grand. Sixty three if the cylinder cannot be reused.” Mr. Edwards said.

A few words passed she couldn’t make out. Sadie wanted to go in and shake Mr. Edwards. She regarded him an honest and trusted business man. Always in the paper for a contribution to this cause or that. Everyone in town looked up to him. Upstanding citizen. How could she look him in the face after hearing all this? Reaching down she rubbed her calves cramping her legs folded so long over the hard surface. Loud laughter came through the wall.

“Everyone ever seen those things on the other side–dark side?” Sadie leaned in closer. What was he saying? Where was the dark side? Dark side of what? “I’ve heard so much about… what are they called? Kar–something. Said they won’t come into the light.”

“Henry,” Edward said to Mr. Colson and Sadie knew her bosses tired tone. He was becoming frustrated. “Just take the tanks and let us make a profit and if the karuntees do exist, which I seriously doubt, I hope they never come to earth. Space maybe advanced, but we still have our weapons.” The men laughed out loud.

Karuntee? Space? Oh Lord they were talking about martians from outer space. What were they drinking in there?

To read the first three scenes, and receive news on upcoming events sign up for the newsletter. Sadie and Mr. Cantrell will have you looking to the moon.

Sincerely, Cora Blu