Welcome to the Garden everyone! You all should know the drill by now! Fill your plates with goodies and don't forget to pour yourself your favorite beverage. Today we have a new guest, Guy Ogan.
Information on the first (of currently three stand alone novels) in my Immortal Relations, Adult Paranormal-Romance Series - this first book will be FREE 20 through 24 July. It should be noted that it is an adult story as it has erotic content.
From the back cover of the book Immortal Relations:
Exciting, erotic, and full of heart-stopping action, Ogan's debut novel turns human vampire lore on its head, creating a symbiotic relationship between the two species that deepens emotional connections to astonishing effect. But a coven of evil vampires bent on destroying the guardian vampires and feeding on the humans at will have other plans. Adam (Gary's son) however assists humans in almost wiping out the evil coven, beginning the ever-increasing relationship between vampires and humans. Gary and Adam then save Great Britain from nuclear theft and attack; when their nemeses make one last-ditch effort in Russia to bring all the peaceful societies down Gary, Adam and their coven must save the human species before their enemy's plans can come to fruition.
Probing the gray areas inherent in sexuality, family, and legend Ogan weaves an amazing tale that examines the very nature of existence. An unrelenting thrill-ride of passion and action, Immortal Relations will leave you breathlessly awaiting the series' second installment.
Link book one: book two: book three:
Excerpt from “Immortal Relations” first book in the three book (stand alone) series. Chapter One: Finding Love:
My name is Gary Logan, I was a human in my sixties when my adventure began, but even then, most people thought I was much younger, not having aged normally. It had been several years since my sweet mother passed away from Alzheimer’s and some of the pain from seeing her decline while I cared for her had eased. Yet something she had said kept popping into my consciousness at odd moments, mostly when I was alone and in need of sleep. Even when I was young and she was the vibrant, creative lady that she had been, she would absent mindedly mumble something like, “He’s over there with that woman” or “He has had a child in Czechoslovakia” but if asked, would say nothing further. Perhaps her misgivings were due to my father’s trips to Europe as part of his government job and that he had spent more than a little time there after the Second World War. Even as I’d grown, I’d never considered that I might have a half-brother or half-sister overseas, but now these memories made me wonder.
One day, while looking through seemingly tons of all the papers in dad’s file cabinets an old envelop caught my eye. In it I found a Black and White photo of my late father next to an old building. On the back it said “Prague, Czechoslovakia” and in a very feminine hand was “I’ll always be waiting here.” This brought back all those things my mother had said and gave me the idea that I might be able to find the building and see some of where my father spent his time while in Europe as he’d never discussed his years in government service. Even with the difficulties of travel in these days of terrorist threats I thought it might be worth the hassle to see a part of Europe I’d never seen. I contacted a travel agency specializing in travel to Europe and asked them about visiting Czechoslovakia and was told it is now called “The Czech Republic” but they could make my arrangements. After getting a passport and enduring all the red tape involved in international travel, I packed my bags and had a friend drive me to the airport. Once I’d removed my watch, change and metal objects I went past the magnetic detector, removed my shoes, put up with the pat-down, as well as the various sniffers and scanners, then I could proceed to the gate to wait for the flight to load. I’d flown so much in the military; flying didn’t hold much excitement anymore, I thankfully fell asleep sometime after we were airborne.
From years in the service I awoke when I felt the aircraft start to descend to land in England. After the security checks, I switched to another aircraft bound for Prague. I was glad when the aircraft took off, knowing it wouldn’t be long before I could start looking for where my father spent some of his working years. After landing, my passport was checked; I gathered my small bags and went to the window to convert dollars for local currency. I then walked outside; it was still dark and it had just stopped raining so the air smelled clean and sweet. Finding the cabstand I held my picture up to the first driver in the queue, he shrugged and shook his head. The next cab in line was piloted by an older silver haired gentleman who still looked very fit; he smiled when I showed him the picture nodding his head saying, “Old Town Hall, I take you.” Starting off, I asked him if a Hotel was near the old town hall and he said, “Very Close”.
The sky was starting to clear and looked as if the day would be clear and bright but at the time of morning we traveled, it being a Sunday, there were very few vehicles on the road. My driver slowed to a stop and pointed out the Old Town Hall through his windshield (I was in the rear seat). Then he said, “Hotel…very soon” and in seconds he had stopped his cab at the curb by the hotel’s front entrance. I got out with my bags and held out paper money and coins to pay for the trip. He took what he needed, I thanking him and waived as he drove off.
At the front desk, I arranged for a room and took the elevator to the fourth floor. It was still very early but I wanted to start looking around so I just dropped my bags by the bed, went back to the first floor and walked the short distance back to the old town hall. The sidewalks were deserted; the only traffic seen as I walked back was a cab and an almost empty bus. Getting out my picture, I looked everywhere for other pedestrians but it seemed too early and I saw no one else anywhere in the area. I held the picture up high walking around and closely compared both the architecture and the angle from which the photograph was taken. As I looked up at the windows, which were well above street level, I noted one that was open giving me a reflected view of the other side of the road. There, on the opposite side which had been empty seconds ago, someone was suddenly standing; but I was sure there hadn’t been anyone there a second before. Seeing her, I sucked in a breath; my God she was stunningly beautiful! I’d seen pictures of “Hollywood Starlets” and "Super-Models" and I knew the Czechs had several of these such as the lovely Paulina Porizkova and Petra Nemcova and I thought this had to be one of them. Suddenly she vanished! I thought she might have moved and my old eyes had missed it so I turned to look and found myself starring into a pair of eyes. Automatically, my head jerked back; the vision of loveliness I’d seen across the street was mere inches from me. She said, excuse me, I didn’t want to startle you! Then she smiled the most brilliant smile I’d ever seen, my knees felt like rubber as I started to fall back but her hand shot out grabbing my arm to keep me upright. The power in her arm surprised me and my heart raced and I couldn’t tell if it was from almost falling or the close proximity of such a beauty! After I felt like I could stand on my own, she introduced herself as Magdalena Dvora'k, saying she had seen me looking at a photograph and asked if I’d been to Prague before. When I told her the picture was taken of my father standing by this building many years before. She asked to see it and I handed it to her. Without skipping a beat, she said “Doug Logan”; if my legs had been rubber before, now they were Jelly! Dazed, I staggered back with her hand back on my arm and I leaned against the stone cold wall. Her gaze transfixed me as she looked deeply into my eyes. It seemed as if she were God’s own angle assigned to test and weigh my soul, for how long I didn’t know. Once I’d regained some composure I said, “How…how could you know my father’s name?" She chuckled at my stammering and said he was the love of her late great aunt who always talked about him and kept his picture next to her bed. To say I was speechless and still weak in the knees was an understatement so she helped me to a bench where we sat for awhile, me trying to recover, while she looked bemused as she read the puzzlement and confusion in my pale face now drained of all its normal color.
I was weighing the odds of meeting someone whose great aunt had known my father and it seemed an unbelievable coincidence! Do you feel alright she asked? I said, not really, adding I can’t get over our meeting, more improbably that your great aunt knew my father. She said, Oh, not just my great aunt her whole family knew him; he was very helpful to them in recovering their lives after the war. Magdalena said her great aunt could speak, read and write in English, because her father was a Czech diplomat in England before the war and her great aunt had gone to school there. Her father was recalled when he voiced alarm over the pacifist actions of England’s Prime Minister at the time, who thought he could make deals with Adolph Hitler. Of course history proved Hitler lied on paper about “Peace in our time” and then, when the Nazi’s invaded Czechoslovakia, my great aunt’s father was arrested and shot. His wife escaped to her parent’s farm with my great aunt who was just a pre-teen. Then, Winston Churchill became England’s Prime Minister and when America came into the war the Nazis were defeated! Later, my great aunt went to work for the new Czech government as an interpreter working with some Americans who came to help. Your father was one and it wasn’t long before he captured her heart and she his. Unfortunately for my great aunt her lover was married and as much as he cared for her he was too committed to his wife and young son, as well as to his agency. I noticed her voice broke toward the end of her comment, so I knew she deeply felt the heartbreak of that lost love! She went on to say; when the new communist government expelled Americans my great aunt wrote her promise to always be waiting on the back of the picture of your father by the Old Town Hall. As color returned to my face I said I knew my father was always committed to us; but it was too bad he couldn’t have had both loves! I guess that was an impossible situation, especially back in those days. She looked confused and asked; don’t you feel angry he cheated on your mother? I told her I felt love was such a beautiful thing and such a blessing to those who suffered during the horrors of war that I wouldn’t deny him or your great aunt that solace. While that terrible war, that claimed the lives of millions was over, with all the death and destruction, I felt the whole human race suffered from a form of post-traumatic stress disorder and if their love helped them overcome that, how could it have been wrong? Thanking me for my understanding she said, “I know my great aunt would appreciate what you’ve said”. She then asked how long it had been since I’d had anything to eat or drink. I told her that I’d had something light, a few hours ago on the plane. She thought it best if we visit a nearby café for something to eat and a little coffee. We talked as we walked slowly, now among the few others who had started to come out to face the day as a bright Sun rose higher in a cloudless Blue Sky.
Sitting outside the café; she ordered a coffee and a pastry for me, saying she’d had something just before we met. We talked while I ate and I mentioned I’d read about the 80,000 Prague Jews murdered by the Nazis in World War II. I told her I felt the West had failed to act against Hitler until it was almost too late. As we sat discussing history and politics I marveled at both her knowledge and her beauty. When she finally said I looked tired, I had to admit I was feeling a bit of “jet lag”. She said if I had a room I should get some rest and when I told her the name of my hotel she said it was close. We continued to talk as we walked; arriving she asked “Do you mind if I come up” and I said I’d love for her to stay as long as she could. Once in the room, she said she’d let me get some sleep. I told her I’d like to hear more of her great aunt and her family, if she could come back. She said she would so I told her I’d call the desk to give her the spare key upon her return. She told me to lock my door when she left. After locking the door, I was so tired I just lay down, cloths and all, without even pulling the threadbare covers back.
I’d slept over eight hours because the Sun was going down. I decided to take a shower rather than wasting time in the morning when Magdalena might return. I’d been in the shower just a minute when I heard her voice, “Are you in the shower?” “Yes, but the water is cold and I don’t know how to regulate the temperature.” Without a pause, she thrust her hand in turning the dials to adjust the temperature! Embarrassed, I thanked her for her help, she just laughed...
My Other Interest (beyond reading and writing) is my "old cars." I have a 64 Studebaker Daytona Station-Wagon called a Wagonaire because the rear of the roof can slide forward under the front part of the roof allowing the station-wagon to serve as a short-bed truck. I have had six ladies from my wife's group able to stand up in the back for a very slow-moving parade. While the vehicle appears virtually the same as when it left the factory, we have made modifications for safety and drivability. It is now powered by a modern hemi V-eight and five speed automatic from a 2005 Dodge truck, has Mustang II type suspension, power-steering and four-wheel power-disc-brakes with the goal of making it a reliable, fun car for my wife. But I think I enjoy driving it far more than she does because it is something most people these days have never seen. Some people even ask me "Who made Studebaker!" Of course Studebaker made Studebaker cars and trucks...sad to see so many amazing vehicle no longer with us! Pictures show the Studebaker at the Vernon Car Show. One has the rear roof only partially forward allowing it to be quickly closed should it rain.
My other car isn't as rare; however, it's also fun to drive when the weather cooperates. My 66 Mustang is a convertible so it stays in the garage all the time with it's top down and only comes out when it isn't overly hot, cold or raining. It has a nice V-8 engine with a new and more reliable 5-sp. transmission. We had the Pony Interior re-dyed (the color had faded from when the previous owner left it out In the Sun for too many years). The photograph of my 66 Mustang is from a car show held in the parking lot of a local Baptist Church (they put on the show).