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| Mary is in the middle |
My former students are reading my sex scenes. How strange is that.
by Mary Marvella, AKA Mary Marvella Barfield
Last night I saw a message on Facebook that made me grin! One of my former students said she LOVED reading my books. She finished 2 novellas and is halfway through one of my novels. She says if she HAD to choose a favorite, it would be the reincarnation story with ghost facilitators, the one she is now reading, Haunting Refrain. I didn't quote her, because I haven't had the chance to ask permission. I did hint strongly that I would appreciate reviews.
All my stories have steamy sex, so I had concerns that my "older" kids might feel odd knowing their teacher wrote those love/sex scenes. Most are now parents, and some are even grandparents. Hmmm, several offered to be my proofreaders/beta readers. I taught those folks when they were teenagers. Having them as my friends now rocks! Some call me Mary, while others still call me Miz Barfield, but they all seem to enjoy having me join them for social events. I get to hang out with the cool kids. I love being able to share my work with them.
I started websites and blogs with the help of younger savvy folks. Sometimes I think I have the blogging thing down. Other times, NOT. Twitter? Not yet, but soon, I guess.
Who is Mary Marvella?
I'm a mom and teacher. I still tutor after retiring from the classroom. My daughter is now 39 and her daddy, my first love, is my Ex. Tutoring one-on-one is wonderful most of the time. Now I know immediately if I reach a student or not and can spend as long teaching a concept as necessary. Having parents call me a miracle worker warms the cockles of my heart and helps pay bills.
I have been a storyteller since I could talk. No, I didn't write my first novel at 10, but I made the other kids and people within earshot listen to my stories. I actually wrote my first novels and short stories after I retired from teaching. I finally had time to read for pleasure again and write. I wrote some of the old family stories and the stories I made up for my daughter.
As a language arts teacher I still love the classics. As a woman who loves a good love story, I adore romances and women's fiction. The decision to self-publish wasn't easy, but it made sense. I could never write to the market. I write the stories I must write if I want to have any peace from my characters.
The act of uploading my own books kicked my sagging old butt! I am technically challenged, but I managed to upload 2 novellas and 2 novels to Smashwords, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble.
Now for the promo. Drum roll!
The Gift
On Edna Mae's 40th birthday she buried her controlling father and lost her virginity in a one-night stand with a stranger she never expected to see again. Her life is about to change in more ways than she could imagine.
Excerpt:
Inside the restaurant piano music drifted from a bar and the scents of garlic and tomatoes made me even hungrier. The music changed to something that sounded like a recording. I caught myself humming softly with the music.
For the first time in my life, a man looked at me with desire in his eyes. The delicious memory made me shiver with anticipation. Having a drink from the bar, another first, I answered the man’s smile with a shy one of my own that had come more naturally than I’d expected.
Crinkles around his gray eyes matched his crooked smile. “Waiting for someone?”
I remember fidgeting with my top button, round and smooth against my rough fingertips. Clearing my dry throat, I answered. “No, no one.”
His smile lit his face and I smiled I return. “Mind if I join you?” His deep voice vibrated through me.
When he sat, I nearly panicked. What could I talk about with this handsome stranger? What could we have in common?
The waitress looked so envious, leaning toward him and pursing her red lips, I almost blurted that the man wasn’t with me. But he was – at least for now.
He ordered the special, and so did I. I had no idea what I wanted and could barely think straight with his attention centered on me. He commented on our choice of steak and fresh asparagus - something we had in common, after all.
We talked about everything from movies to his work experiences and college education. I lied about my background, since there were none of those things for the woman who had devoted her life to nursing a bedridden parent until three days ago. If he’d asked me to repeat what I said, I’d have been hard put to do so. I did remember shredding the soggy napkin from under my glass.
Someone began to play the shiny baby grand piano. The stranger and I glanced around the crowded area, commenting on people around us. When had so many people come into the restaurant?
He spoke first. “Didn’t know there was live music tonight.”
“The music is nice.” Too brilliant for words.
He smiled and looked pointedly at my nearly empty plate. Neither of us said anything, but when he held his hand out.
I took it and stood.
“I don’t dance,” I said, apologizing.
He drew me close. “We can stop when I step on your feet too many times.”
A shiver hit me as I smiled. More than likely I’d step on his feet. I couldn’t push the man away yet, though I probably should have. Dancing with the handsome stranger, I lost myself in the warmth of his strong arms until the bar closed at midnight. Unlike Cinderella, I didn’t run home.
The Gift.
Other books by Mary Marvella
Haunting Refrain, Forever Love, and Christmas's Best Bet, Humble Pie.
