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About the author:
Ms. Borg now lives in a diversified lake community in Arkansas, where she continues to write historical and contemporary fiction. She also published a non-fiction book about her cat and its former shelter buddies. Her poetry has been published in over twenty anthologies and was chosen for professionally recorded readings. Her hobbies include world literature, opera, sailing and, of course, devising new plots for future novels.
What inspired you to write your book?
I feel that my decision “to pander or not to pander” is the right one. All I can hope for is that my readers will agree.
Here is a short sample from the book:
The harsh call rang in Monika’s ears. She jerked her head up in alarm. The sun’s autumn disk had begun its slide toward the western horizon, yet the late afternoon air felt still mild. She must have been dreaming. Drowsiness overtook her again and she sank back onto her mossy bed.
“Hey! Wake up!”
Monika blinked. A shadowy face hovered so close over her that all she could make out was a tan deepened by a thick halo of curly pearl-gray hair.
“Do you know you are trespassing!” The vibrant baritone carried little forgiveness.
Should she stay on the ground or get up? Considering that she was practically naked, she decided to stay where she was, cupping her breasts in her hands and crossing her legs. Then, a bit too pointedly to cover her shock, she talked up at the stranger.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was on somebody’s property.”
It would be neither easy nor graceful to pull her thin shirt out from under her buttocks. Besides, it would mean taking her hands off her breasts. She could feel her nipples harden again.
“A bit late for modesty.” The man’s voice was flat.
Flames of anger spread over Monika’s face. Any other man would have flashed a meaningful smile or at least stammered something trivial to ease a naked woman’s embarrassment; most might have tried to lengthen their enjoyment. She knew that she still looked good. What did he want? Oh, God! She swallowed hard and squinted up at him. A rapist! Actually, he sounded more like a sourly hermit. Perhaps he lived in a nearby cave and his mind had gone off. A bit like hers. An involuntary grin appeared on her lips. He reminded her of her lusterless but obviously—judging from the past hour—not completely lust-less existence on this mountain.
“Surely, you will find it in your heart to forgive a defenseless lady.” She managed to smile at the face she still could not make out. What was she doing? Offering herself up like a sacrificial virgin, all drivel and expectation? Grimacing at such pre-programmed reaction to the male species, she yanked her shirt from under her and draped its crumpled fabric over herself. To get into her skirt was a lot harder lying down but at last she managed to wriggle into it as she surreptitiously stuffed her bra into an infuriatingly small pocket.
He was still staring down at her, his shadowy features set.
“A defenseless lady. Really? Then I better help you to your feet,” he said as his lips stretched into a wide grin.
The whiteness of his even teeth surprised her. Not a caveman after all.
He pulled her to her feet so brusquely that her shirt fell away and she stumbled against his chest that suddenly resonated with a bellow of laughter. With one steadying hand placed around her slim waist, he used his other to brush a few twigs and scurrying ants off her shoulder, his fingers long and sinuous.
It was most likely an unconscious gesture on his part, but it stirred her sluggish lava of past desire into renewed hotness. Her reaction was to flee. From him. From her own surging feelings. Monika thought that she was scrambling away from having become the potential prey of a desperate mountain predator. Mistakenly, she believed it was the man.
The starving bobcat shadowed the Upright in her headlong flight all the way through the woods. When the frantic woman crossed the meadow and stumbled into the cabin, the weary animal slunk back into the undergrowth. She would wait there for a better opportunity.