Pearl Harbor, Hawaii
December 7, 1941
I’m bustin’ with news to tell you, little sister. I only have a few minutes before my shift at the hospital starts, so bear with me. I don’t know where to begin. It all happened so fast. I met Jimmy at the Officers’ Club when I first got here last summer and the handsome Army Air Force lieutenant asked me to dance. The band was playing Moonlight Serenade and before I knew it he had his arms around me, holding me so tight I couldn’t breathe.
Then he kissed me.
Oh, it was so romantic. The warm night breeze blowing in off the ocean, the smell of pink hibiscus making me wild with desire, his hand reaching under my long evening gown and sliding up my thigh. Then he picked me up in his arms and carried me down to the beach and we…
Sorry, I got called away by the nurse-in-charge. She was worried about a patient wheezing and coughing. She thought it might be pneumonia. Just a couple of nurses on duty this morning, so she asked me to help her with paperwork. I was disappointed, seeing how I haven’t had much chance to use my nursing skills since I’ve been here. Still, Pearl is the best duty an Army nurse could wish for. We get a few pilots scraped up after a rough landing or with a bad hangover, but it’s mostly sunny days and balmy nights.
I bet you and Mom were all bundled up when you did this year’s Christmas shopping at Wanamaker’s. I love walking down Market Street with all the holiday decorations. The soft, white snow landing on top of the pretzel man’s cart. The hot cocoa with Mom’s fresh whipped cream. I miss you and the family so much, but don’t worry about me, I’m having the best time of my life. I’ve nearly worn out the soles on my new high-heeled pumps dancing every night with Jimmy.
Here’s my news, he…
Something’s happening, Peggy, something awful. Sirens going off, a loud explosion, and everyone’s scrambling. I’ll write more later. I’ve got to get back to my patients. They’re jumping out of bed and yelling for their pants.
We’re under attack . . . oh, God, what’s happening?
It’s over. For now.
A mad, insane day that I shall never forget . . .
But my job is just beginning. I wish I could call you on the telephone and hear your voice, tell you that I’m okay, but that’s impossible, so I’ll write everything down as fast as I can. Here’s what happened earlier today on December 7, 1941 . . .
The second wave of the surprise attack lasted until nearly 10 a.m. I haven’t stopped since then and I’d still be racing from one patient to the next if the nurse-in-charge hadn’t insisted I get some rest.
First, I’ll give you detailed account before I grab a few minutes of sleep, then go back on duty. My thoughts are scattered, so bear with me.
By the time you read this, you’ll know the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on a quiet Sunday morning at 7:55 a.m. I was recording a patient’s vitals when a soldier with a broken leg asked me to help him stand up. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he looked real nervous. Said he heard something that didn’t sound right. Planes flying overhead that weren’t ours. I thought he was joking, then I looked out the big, square hospital window—
Oh, my God, Peggy, I don’t know how to describe what I saw. Planes roaring overhead with red suns emblazoned on them. Loud, ear-splitting explosions. Black plumes of smoke swirling into the sky like a death flower.
It was maddening. Fear choked my throat. My body went numb. Hot tears spilled onto my cheeks. I
wiped them away with defiance.
Nurses don’t cry.
I let go with a long shudder. I don’t know what came over me. Fear, I guess, but I was okay now. Duty came first. This was what I’d spent years studying for, watching, observing, the sleepless nights working in the emergency room in the big Philadelphia hospital. It all came together for me in that moment.
Within minutes, the wounded came pouring in. Carried in on anything sturdy enough to hold them. The sound of antiaircraft fire ringing in our ears, bombs exploding outside and shaking the walls. I don’t want to shock you, but you and those at home must know what we’re up against in this war. The pain, the horror. Men missing limbs. Bloodied wounds. Ugly burns with exposed flesh. Others in shock. We had no electricity, no elevators to transport the wounded to surgery. Not enough nurses. Supplies running out fast.
But we did it. We saved as many lives as we could and prayed for those we couldn’t.
I went from one patient to the next, never stopping until—
I saw him. My lieutenant. Carrying a wounded soldier on his back, blood splattered all over his uniform.
“Jimmy, Jimmy!” I yelled out, trying to get his attention.
“Kitty . . . ” He looked so relieved to see me it made me tear up. I could see in his eyes he wanted to hold me close to him, never let me go. I wanted to feel his warmth, smell his woodsy, masculine scent. Prove to myself
he was here, alive.
My patient came first.
After I stabilized the wounded man, Jimmy held me in his arms and pulled off my nurse’s cap, and then ran his fingers through my hair.
“Thank God, you’re okay, Kitty,” he said, his lips brushing my cheek. He told me we lost several battleships and more than a hundred planes, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He was going to get into the air no matter what he had to do. Drive all over the island until he found a P36 gassed up and ready to go.
He cupped my chin and said, “I’ll be seeing you, babe.”
I smiled up at him. “I’ll be waiting.”
Then he left. I blew him a kiss. I knew what he was thinking. He had his job and I had mine. Whatever words and soft kisses we’d exchanged under the swaying palms would have to wait.
We were at war.
And God willing, we’d be together again soon.
But nothing will erase what happened here on this Sunday morning at Pearl Harbor, the sun bright yellow and hot. Then the sky became dark with enemy planes set on destroying us and our way of life. My heart is so heavy with the pain of what I saw today. The suffering and the dying. It’s my job and the job of every serviceman and woman to stop them before they reach our home shores.
You have a job, too, Peggy. Take care of Mom and Dad, and tell them not to worry about me. I know everyone will do whatever they can so our fighting men can return home safe.
I can’t wait until I see you all again. When this horrible mess is over, we’ll sit under the old apple tree and eat bonbons and I’ll show you the prettiest engagement ring you ever saw. Yes, that’s my surprise. Jimmy asked me to marry him.
Till then, little sister, pray for me. And our boys fighting what some say will be a long, hard battle. But we’ll win. We have to. For the sake of free men and women everywhere.
Love, your big sister,
I hope you enjoyed reliving the events of December 7, 1941 through Kitty’s eyes. She came to me in an instant when I wanted to write a tribute to the brave men and women at Pearl Harbor and told her story to me. I couldn’t type fast enough…
Thank you for stopping by! If you like WW 2 romance, check out my holiday novella that takes place on Christmas Eve during the cold winter of 1943: “A Soldier’s Italian Christmas.”
December 1943 Italy
He is a U.S Army captain, a battle-weary soldier who has lost his faith. She is a nun, her life dedicated to God. Together they are going to commit an act the civilized world will not tolerate. They are about to fall in love.
Winner in the Novella Category in the I Heart Indie contest
Also, my Civil War medical drama:
She wore gray.
He wore blue.
But their love defied the boundaries of war.
And finally, a word about my Christmas time travel WW 2 novel: I’ve submitted my women’s fiction story about a woman in 1955 who goes back in time to Christmas 1943 to save the man she loves from being killed in the war — it’s on submission at a trad publishing house. When I have news, I’ll be bursting to share it with you!
“Christmas Once and Again”
On a cold December day in 1955, I got on a train to go back home for Christmas.
This is the story of what happened when I got off that train.
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Here’s how it works: Lynn Crain heads up this amazing blog every week with a new theme; it’s up to the authors to post 7 paragraphs, 7 words, or 7 sentences. Sexy, of course. Please visit the other authors, too.
In Lynn’s words:
Our Sexy Man
Welcome to the 98th week of My Sexy Saturday.
This week’s theme is Our Sexy Man and need we say more. This is all about the sexy men in our books. The young ones, the old ones, the middle aged ones, the ones who turn us on like no other. It’s all about the sexy, hot romance they bring to the pages of the books we read and the books we write.
So naturally I have to write about JACE CHANTIERS, the sexy billionaire in “Come Fly with Me,” especially when I just re-did the cover with Mr. Sexy up front and center:
Here’s the set-up: London’s Heathrow airport
New Year’s Eve
Kacie Bennett is stranded in London and desperate to get home to avert a family crisis. She’s shocked when a tall, dark handsome stranger offers her a first class airline ticket, no strings attached.
What’s a girl to do?
Jace Chantiers is a self-made oil billionaire, a player who can have any supermodel he wants, but he doesn’t believe in love. That would mean opening up about the pain in his past, something he swears he’ll never do. When he has to cancel his date to fly to San Francisco for an urgent business meeting, he overhears Kacie’s panicked phone call from her sister and is intrigued by her plight.
He never expected to ring in the New Year with a gorgeous blonde who needs his help. Kacie gets under his skin with her go-to attitude, hard work ethic, and strong dedication to her family. Something he never had growing up. She makes him wonder if he’s missing out on something, something his money can’t buy.
Can Kacie resist this gorgeous man the British tabloids have labeled the sexiest man alive? Does she dare lose her inhibitions at thirty thousand feet…or will she also lose her heart?
This is the scene when Kacie boards the airbus and the flight attendant shows her the tabloid with the sexy billionaire on the cover:
“The Daily Sneek dubbed him the sexiest man alive. His picture is splashed all over the front page.” She winked and handed her the scandal sheet.
Kacie’s eyes popped. It was him all right. There, sprawled on the cover of the glossy gossip sheet was the gorgeous hottie who bought her a ticket home. The man’s charisma grabbed her, as bold and sexy on paper as he was in person. The paparazzi had caught his hard, muscled body in a candid shot somewhere on a white, sandy beach. Shoulders so broad they spilled off the page, his naked chest glistening with sea spray, his abs tighter than a clamshell. And a come-hither grin that would have any woman crawling on her knees to get close to him. His brooding black eyes stared straight into the camera as if daring the photographer to take the shot.
And she had to sit next to him for the whole flight, squirming in her seat, wild feelings stirring within her. Smell his woodsy scent, dream about unbuttoning his silk shirt and running her fingers up and down his muscular bronze chest. It would be pure hell not to let her fingers wander over the armrest and grab his sleeve, feel his forearm tighten under her touch. She’d fooled herself into believing she could handle it. She couldn’t.
She was in dangerous territory with a man this powerful and, God help her, this sexy. She’d only get hurt. That didn’t change how she felt. She wanted to taste his lips, lose herself in his kiss, his body strong and warm against hers.
Kacie groaned inwardly as she followed the flight attendant up the winding stairs toward the first class cabin. With each step, her heart pounded louder in her ears. Mr. GQ was waiting there for her. The memory of the moment he held her gaze with his piercing dark eyes lingered within her like sweet, dark molasses on a stick. He wasn’t a soufflé that needed more sugar or a vichyssoise choking with chives. He was the hunkiest piece of beefsteak she was ever going to meet in her life. A fantasy she’d always dreamed about experiencing with a stunningly handsome man, but never would back home in Forgotten Valley.
Her case of the jitters just got worse. She wondered how she was going to handle being that close to him, inhaling him for the pure joy of it, her body aching for something she could never have.
Her New Year’s Eve sucked.
Come Fly with Me is a New Year’s novella — only 99 cents–a wild, sexy flight on an airbus from London to San Francisco in first class!
Check out the first class seat–just right for cozying up to this sexy hunk on a long flight…
Thank you for stopping by…………..and don’t forget to visit the MY SEXY SATURDAY BLOG HOP for this week!
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Posted in 99 cents, Amazon, author, billionaire, blog hop, blonde, drama, heroine, holidays, hottie, hunk, Kindle, Kindle Press, kindle scout, KindleUnlimited, My Sexy Saturday, naughty, romance, sexy, writer, Writing
Tags: Amazon, billionaire, blog hop, blonde, family, heroine, holidays, hottie, kindle, Kindle Unlimied, KindleUnlimited, kiss, London, naughty, New Year's Eve, novella, romance, San Francisco, Saturday, sexual, sexy, sexy contemporary
Is your romance novel heroine qualified for the job?
Did you interview her before you started writing? I don’t mean where she went to school, what her favorite color is, etc. but whether or not she’s qualified for the job as a romance novel heroine.
For example, does she have the skills needed to perform her job: Can she shoot a Glock if you’re writing an FBI agent? Lace up a corset if she’s interviewing for the job as a Victorian lady’s maid?
Or she may be overqualified for the job. For example, she can type faster than you or she has aspirations to leave the romance novel field and get a literary gig.
How long has she been out of work?
Romance novel jobs are hard to get and if it’s been decades since she slipped between the pages of a novel, you might want to reconsider. On the other hand, experience between the sheets is important for every romance heroine.
A typical interview could go like this:
Miss Jones, I’m writing a novel that takes place during the Regency Period. Are you a fan of Jane Austen?
Miss Jones: Jane who? I’m so into Lady Gaga. Love her sunglasses.
Miss Smith, my upcoming novella, NAKED SUSHI, novel is about a computer whiz kid
who wants to become an FBI agent. She must be physically active to catch the bad guys. Can you drop and do twenty?
Miss Smith: the only thing I dropped was twenty pounds to get this interview.
Let’s try again. Next up is Ms. von Rittenhaus.
Ms. von Rittenhaus, I need a romance novel heroine who sleeps all day and bites all night. Can you list your qualifications to be the vamp queen in my new urban fantasy novel?
Ms. von Rittenhaus: Honey, I can snooze and cruise with the best of them. I’ve hit every vamp bar from here to Tampa and let me tell you, no one gets her fangs on better than Lulu.
Super. When can you start?
Ms. von Rittenhaus: Tonight. As soon as the sun goes down. (Pause). You haven’t mentioned a benefits package.
What do you mean?
Ms. von Rittenhaus: Do I get overtime pay for night work? And how about a 401K? I’m not getting any younger and in this economy a girl, I mean vamp, has to look out for herself. What about my e-rights? And health benefits? What if I chip a fang and I have to see a dentist between chapters?
Jeez…Romance heroines…you can’t write with them and you can’t write without them.
Next time when we’ll interview the romance novel hero and see if he’s up for the job.