Disclaimer – not entirely G rated

In the interest of the continuing dialog on harassment – Had a conversation the other day with a man who just discovered I wrote romance novels. I’ve never made a secret of it, but I guess I’m more open after leaving my day job to write full time, or he’s been living under a rock.

I’m not sure of his motivation—to embarrass me or demean me (he got neither—now that I’m in my “old broad” phase of life it takes a lot to do either). He rambled on, eventually asking me if, when driving through Winston Salem, I enjoyed the phallic symbol along I-40. I’ve had this conversation before, and was ready, but I let him continue for a while taking mental notes (you never know when you’re going to use a conversation for future dialog). When I finally got a chance to speak, I calmly mentioned that I didn’t see a phallic symbol when I drove through Winston, I saw more of a tampon. That shut up him quick and I managed not to laugh. Here’s a picture, you decide.

If you want phallic symbols, you could take Chimney Rock, which we drove past when we went eclipsing, or even the older symbol of the wildcat from the University of Kentucky (they changed it while I was working there because of complaints).

Do you get this kind of conversation? Do people “tease” you because you’re a writer of romance? How do they not know what a major industry it is? I’d love to hear your stories if you’d like to share

I’m talking about sexual harassment at work. In 1975, when I got my first job out of college there was no protection. Yes, everyone was aware of sexual harassment, but it was considered normal, just something you had to put up with if you were a woman in business.

I went to work for a small electrical supply company that as far as I can find is no longer in business, probably swallowed up by a bigger company. Most of the time there were only two of us in the office, Joe and me. Two other salesmen occasionally came in off the road and were there for a day or two.

Joe had had a sexual relationship with the person in my position before me and apparently expected that to continue. I was young and fairly naïve. I’d worked in the family business before going off the school, and nothing like what was coming ever happened there.

There were lots of minor incidents, which I tried to ignore – I needed the job. Joe had an amazingly foul mouth, unable to speak more than three words without inserting a f*ck or g**damn. I became immune to that pretty quickly. I didn’t appreciate him coming in and telling me his girlfriend needed another abortion, or listen to him screaming at people on the phone, but in an office that small there was no relief.

An aside here – we were in a small office building and we had the only Xerox machine in the building, so other companies came in our back door, used the machine and logged in their usage, which I billed back to them monthly. On more than one occasion the men in the other offices would come to the door and ask if I was okay, because they could hear what Joe was yelling pretty clearly. They could do no more. Challenging Joe would have been fruitless; they didn’t even work in the same company.

I came in one morning to find a magazine opened on my desk. In my naivety I thought of Playboy as a “dirty” magazine. This publication was beyond my wildest imagination, and I still think those posed shots more fantasy than possibility.

The final straw was when Joe came up behind me and shoved his hand down my sweater. I froze and when he left me alone, I did go to one of the other offices to get my breath back. I started looking for a new position then. I knew it would never get better there.

When I interviewed, the only question I asked was “Do you curse and scream very much?” I still can see the shocked face of the man I went to work for. I don’t believe he said as much as damn in front of me for two years. He did advise me that I would be taking a cut in pay for the new job, and I informed him that I had to leave, and I needed to do it before I couldn’t financially. I’ll always believe that answer got me the job. I didn’t give my notice to Joe, that was too scary, but when Gerry, another salesman, was in the office I told him. He offered me more money and I told him I was taking a cut to get out. He nodded and said he didn’t blame me. See, he knew as well, but nothing was every done in these cases.

I hate that things like this still continue – over 40 years and some women still face this crap. It needs to end.

      Not exactly the relaxing, sitting on the beach and reading or writing vacation. It was much better than that. Our first vacation with the grandson! The first of many I hope (son and daughter-in-law were there too!)

He was so much fun and I think he and his Granddar bonded well. I was good for an early morning cuddle, or to make the iPad work, but Granddar was the reason the sun came up in the morning. Haven’t seen Hubby play like that in ages. Running up and down, squealing and growling, and wrestling (rassling actually). 

Also got to see Angry Birds three times.

I miss the old Pavillion at Myrtle Beach. Some rides have been moved out to Broadway on the Beach, but it’s not as good as I remember it from taking my kids. Nevertheless, he enjoyed riding the rides that were there. Got in some putt-putt golf (I got 3 hole in ones!) but watching him was adorable and the most fun. And the sand castles . . . He and Granddar really got into that.

The ocean was intimidating, but we jumped waves up to his knees! And he was only bowled over once. The pool was a big hit as well and not nearly as rough.

All in all one of the best beach vacations ever. And I did get a little work done—finished up with the proof for Small Changes, paperback, and worked a tiny bit on my Christmas novella for this year. But the grandson was the best part by far!

Small Changes marks book number 20 for me and I’m delighted to be able to share it with you.  

This book, like Before You, combines my small town romances with the paranormal. These are regular people, but there’s that tiny little twist . . .

Melanie has returned to her hometown to take over the family business despite wanting to stay far away from an abusive ex, who is narcissistic enough to never take no for an answer.

Jonah was led to this small town for a respite after running, along with this daughter, for two years. He has to keep Emma safe, but his next door neighbor is an unexpected, and beautiful, distraction when he least needs it.

Buy links – Amazon, Barnes&Noble, iBooks, Kobo

Excerpt –

Jonah looked over at Emma as he turned off the burner on the stove. She loved grilled cheese sandwiches and it wasn’t a bad breakfast choice along with a banana or grapes. The cheese oozed out of this one exactly the way she liked it. Without warning she was out of the chair, toppling it over and at the backdoor, her small hands beating on the door. “Mellie! Mellie!”

He didn’t even take the time to realize her cries were silent. He’d heard them loud and clear.

“What’s wrong?” he asked even as he scooped Emma into his arms and headed outside. There was a truck in Melanie’s driveway. Yes, she’d mentioned she was having some work done on her kitchen. But something was wrong.

He perched Emma on a chair on Melanie’s patio with an unnecessary motion of his finger to his lips to keep quiet and stay put. Then he reached for the sliding door handle.

A guy, a big one, with sandy military cut hair and unremarkable brown eyes had Melanie up against the wall, one hand on her chin. Jonah could already see the grip on her arm was going to bruise.

“Let her go.” It was an order, spoken at a normal volume but an order nevertheless.

Big guy turned to him but didn’t loosen his grip. Melanie’s eyes were glassy, unfocused. Had he hit her? “This is none of your business, buddy.”

“I’m not your buddy and let the lady go.” Where the hell was her damn dog? He might not be the aggressive type, but Jonah was sure he wouldn’t allow this if he were capable. What had this asshole done?

“Get out. This isn’t your house and this isn’t your business.” Big guy turned to him then, releasing Melanie who started slipping toward the floor. He took a menacing step toward Jonah who stepped forward and punched him once right in the face.

It was a short jab, perfectly aimed. A second blow wasn’t necessary.

Big guy lurched back as blood spurted from his nose and his feet tangled. He went down with a crash, taking a box with him, showering himself with canned food. Then a dark shadow slid past Jonah, and Rex was looming over the man, growling as only a very big, very menacing dog could. Part wolf lurked somewhere in that dog’s ancestry.

Jonah scooped Melanie up and placed her in one of the kitchen chairs. “Can you hear me?”

She nodded and winced, her hand going to the back of her head. Jonah had his phone out, 911 already dialed.

“There’s been an assault at 437 Chestnut. We need the police and an ambulance.”

“I’m okay,” her voice was faint and Jonah ignored her.

“Jonah Sanders, I’m a neighbor. Thanks.” He shoved the phone back in his pocket. Oh crap, Emma, where was she during all of this? He took a step toward the sliding door, which still stood open from his entrance. Not in the chair.

Jonah glanced at Melanie then stepped around Rex and his prisoner to look in the living room. Emma looked up at him from the large chair by the couch. He felt his heart rate start to return to a normal cadence and took a deep breath.

The sirens were already audible. Perks of a small town.