romance

All posts tagged romance

1 May 2020

Published April 29, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Genre: Romance

Word Count: 100

JILTED AND SCORNED

The four-tiered cake, a culinary masterpiece dripping with elegant flowers graced the table—untouched.

Gretchen stared out the window. “It’s not supposed to be like this.”

What happened to Jared? Why would he abandon her?

Outside a man banged on the door. Dripping hair hung in his dirty face.

Perfect ending to a perfectly horrid day. Damned vagrant.

“Go away!” She hollered.

“Gretchen, please.”

Her stomach flipflopped. He stumbled through the doorway, spattering her Gucci gown.  

“Engine blew—” he sputtered between muddy kisses “—nearly drowned—hiked from—Good God, I love you.”

“Shut up and marry me now.”

*

*

*

Thanks to Dale for permission to render her beautiful photo. Prints and note cards available. 😉

***

Not four tiered but one of my favorite cakes from my decorating days.

 

22 March 2019

Published March 20, 2019 by rochellewisoff

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The following is the PHOTO PROMPT. Express permission is given for the purpose of Friday Fictioneers only. It is proper etiquette to give credit to the photographer/contributor. Thank you. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

 

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Genre: Historical Fiction circa 1950

Word Count: 100

MOONS AND JUNES AND FERRIS WHEELS

Eighteen-year-old Tammy set the cake on the table. “Seventy-five candles, Grammy.”  

Phoebe blew with all her might. “Wish James was here to celebrate with us.” Winded, she leaned back and shut her eyes. “We met in 1893. I was your age.

***

“May I sit here, Miss?”

Phoebe gazed into his startling blue eyes. “Certainly.”

“Think this contraption is safe?”

From their car at the top of the observation wheel, an unheard of 264 feet, she took in the whole fair. Heart pounding, she grasped his hand. He squeezed hers.

***

Tammy squeezed Phoebe’s stiff hand. “Give Gramps a kiss for me.”

 

For a little more about the Ferris Wheel CLICK HERE

The original Ferris Wheel at the Chicago Worlds Fair in 1893

BLIND DATE

Published December 8, 2016 by rochellewisoff
PHOTO PTOMPT © Lucy Fridkin

PHOTO PROMPT © Lucy Fridkin

This is an absolute first for me! I’ve never posted a second Friday Fictioneers story. However, after reading Kent Bonham’s STOOD UP? and the ensuing comments between readers and author, it seemed to cry out for the other side of the story. Maybe it’s all those plummy Hallmark channel holiday movies, but here’s my take.

Genre: Romantic Fiction

Word Count: 100

BLIND DATE?

            John came into the café at least twice a week. Julie looked forward to his wit and comfortable repartee.  

            He checked his watch for the fifth time. The disappointment in his eyes made Julie ache as she poured his water.

            “Perhaps she got hung up in traffic.”

            “Nah. Stood up again.”

            Maybe there was something she could do after all—for both of them. Heart pounding, Julie made an excuse about her shift ending and dashed to the back room to change.

            John’s mouth dropped when she returned and squeezed his hand. “Sorry, I’m late. I had to work.”

 

EIRONEIA

Published October 11, 2012 by rochellewisoff

As I post my latest Friday Fictioneer’s story it’s Friday Eve. That’s Thursday in some parts of the world.  For other stories from our growing global community click here.  You’ll find a wealth of  one hundred word stories inspired by this single photograph from Jan Morrill.

Summer 1969, an American sailor stationed in Greece, I went on leave to Santorini.

In Pyrgos, I met sable-eyed Melina.

We drank each other. Her fragrant breasts welcomed me home.

“Marry me,” I whispered.

“I can’t.”

After that I never saw her again.

Summer 2010, I returned to Pyrgos.

On the street I stopped a silver-haired woman. “Melina Dimitri? Do you know her?”

“Why?”

“I love her.”

“Impossible! She was my great-grandmother. Died in childbirth in 1846. Here she is with my great-grandfather.”

When the woman flipped out a daguerreotype I gasped at the youthful images of Melina and…me

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