One
of my favorite fairy tales growing up happened to be the classic Little Red Riding Hood. I often walked to my grandmother’s house but
not through the forest. Instead I
traveled the streets of my hometown, through my old working class neighborhood
where I never met any wolves but where other threats often existed. I had a red woolen sweater cape and much
later a red hooded sweatshirt but that’s about as close as I came to living the
story.
But
we don’t forget, especially writers and when I sat down to write my first
Romance On The Go submission for Evernight Publishing, I found myself thinking
about Little Red Riding Hood. That
brought to mind echoes of the old neighborhood and city too. Red happens to be one of my favorite colors
so the elements began to come together in a contemporary romance with an urban
setting with some fairy tale overtones.
Red In The Hood isn’t a modern
retelling of the classic fairy tale, not by any means. I think it would be safer to say it’s inspired
by the original. And while my hero is
named Wulfric – although everyone but the heroine and Wulfric’s German born mom
calls him Ric –he’s all male but not a wolf or even a shapeshifter.
Evernight’s
new Romance On The Go Line is intended for the busy reader on the go which
includes many of us. Their short but
complete tales are intended to be read at break, in an evening, during the
daily commute, at the doctor’s office, or at the beach. I’m working on another now because I’ve had
some awesome reader response so far on Red
In The Hood.
Here’s
a little excerpt and all the details from my latest, Red In The Hood:
Red In The Hood by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy $2.99 Evernight
Publishing
Tamara’s known far and wide as the girl in the red hood. Red is
not only her favorite color but a way to express everything from anger to love.
She hates her mundane existence. After tragedy destroyed her family life,
Tamara’s become a loner who shuts out everyone, even her one-time lover,
Wulfric.
Wulfric refuses to give up on Tamara, and when she yields to him, her life seems to shift back on track. But when danger hits, Wulfric steps in to make the ultimate sacrifice to save her. His life and their love hang in the balance.
Wulfric refuses to give up on Tamara, and when she yields to him, her life seems to shift back on track. But when danger hits, Wulfric steps in to make the ultimate sacrifice to save her. His life and their love hang in the balance.
Any time she thought about home, she
wanted to run fast and hard in another direction. By the time she got home, her mother would be
dead to the world on the sofa, television blaring and the rank odor of beer
permeated the living room. Most likely
there’d be a half-finished beer sitting on the floor beside her mother’s favorite rump
sprung chair [JC1]and often, pooled on the floor,
spilled. If her dad happened to be home,
which wasn’t likely, he’d reek of marijuana smoke as well as tobacco. He’d stagger home from the nearest bar on
foot because he lost his license two years earlier. No one cleaned house any longer unless Tamara
made an effort to clear the clutter, toss out the stacks of unread newspapers,
collect the empty beer cans, and wash the mountain of dirty dishes. She did for a long time but these days, she
came in, trailed around the trash to her room and left as soon as
possible. Tamara had no idea why she
stayed there. At twenty-four she could
move out anytime and rent an apartment or a mobile home somewhere, but she’d
spend almost every penny she earned keeping it up if she did.
Maybe she feared if she split her
parents might kill each other or her mom might drown in her own vomit. Her dad might burn the house down with a
smoldering joint or just never come back.
A rare moment of longing for the old days, her childhood years when
things were different rose up in her heart and the tears she stayed angry to
deny burned in her eyes. A few escaped
down her cheeks and she brushed them away, mad she cried. Wulfric halted and wiped them away with his
big hand. As if he read her mind, he
said, his voice so gentle more tears gushed out, “Don’t be so hard on your
folks. They weren’t like this until
Anthony crashed his bike.”
“I know,” Tamara said through a rush
of pain. Her façade, her defenses
tumbled as she remembered her older brother.
Anthony represented the best of their little family unit. He’d played football so well he earned a full
ride scholarship to the state university and he’d majored in biology. In high school and then on campus, he’d been
popular, a magnet for pretty girls and nice guys, people from a social strata
far above the neighborhood. He pulled
straight A’s every semester, worked part time at JC Penney’s in the menswear
department, and dressed like someone out of GQ.
Her parents were so proud of their son and Tamara, as a teenager, all
but worshipped her brother. He’d never
been mean to her like so many brothers she saw, and he helped her chart a plan
to take her to the heights he traveled.
Everything crashed when he died five
years earlier, when he took a curve on some two-lane highway in the middle of
the state late at night too fast and shot off the road into a tree. Tamara would never forget the late-night
visit from two highway patrol officers, who broke the news of Anthony’s
immediate death with professional kindness and true compassion. With him in the mix, they’d been a family but
on the night of the awful funeral home visitation for her brother, her dad had
spoken terrible words. His outburst
scarred Tamara’s soul and fed her anger.
She couldn’t forget or forgive or even cut him slack, because he’d been
drinking all afternoon. It wasn’t
justified.
“If one of my kids had to die,” her
dad said, eyes red and staring at her like a demon straight out of hell’s back
acre, “why in the hell couldn’t it have been you and not my son?”
Tamara had walked out of the funeral
home and walked, not arriving home until early morning. She might not have gone back at all, but
Wulfric found her, loved her, and brought her home. From then until the day two years ago she cut
him out of her life, he’d been with her through everything as both rock and
lover.
His eyes scanned her face and he
probably knew just what she thought.
Tamara wanted to bury her face against his shoulder and weep. She yearned for his comfort and she ached
with true hunger for his love. At the
most vulnerable she’d been in a long time, she might reveal the truth and she
didn’t want to do that. Wulfric could
do better in life without her attached to his side like a Siamese twin, and so
she pushed away emotion and stared at him, making her face into a blank mask.
“Wulfric, I gotta go,” she mumbled
and took off running, the bag of day-old donuts still clutched in one
fist. Tamara didn’t dare look back but
when she reached Grandma’s porch, she snuck one glance and he stood, leaning
against a utility pole like a sentinel on duty. Tamara brushed away more tears, schooled her
expression toward normal hostility, and rang the doorbell.
Her grandmother opened the door,
leaning on a cane, hair silver and step slower than it used to be. Anthony’s death hit her hard, too and she’d
never been quite the same since. But her
face brightened when she saw Tamara and she smiled. “Come in, honey. What are you doing out in this weather? I
figured you’d go straight on home from the store.”
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