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THE VASE AT THE FLEA MARKET BY Pat Garcia @pat_garcia @patgarcia.bsky.social @MFRWbookhook @rrbc-org.bsky.social #women’sfiction @amwriting #romancebook #writingjourney #Contemporaryromance

Hello Everyone,
I am presenting the second story in my Flash Fiction anthology, which is written as a trilogy within a series. Three Flashes are connected as one story.
I hope you enjoy seeing Beno and Zelda again.
Have a lovely day and take care.
Shalom shalom

Pat Garcia

Zelda tossed from one side to the other in the king-size bed belonging to her and Beno. She made herself lie still and shaped herself into a spoon on her right side, staring at the chipped, brownish-red-toned vase standing on the end table where Beno always slept. As ugly as that vase was, it radiated the only hope she had that he wasn’t dead. Like a persistent gnawing in her spirit, the vessel fanned the flame in her that Beno was alive.

Since he’d slithered into their new home to surprise her on her birthday, she’d heard nothing else from him. He’d received a thirty-six-hour pass and hadn’t allowed her to ask any questions about how he got it. Instead, he’d rushed her out of their home and taken her to the flea market. There, he’d shown her what he’d discovered. His face lit up when he pointed to the chipped antique vase. Even though it was the ugliest vase Zelda had ever seen, Beno’s lips had kissed and caressed it while scrutinizing its damages as if it were a precious jewel.

She’d asked him why that vase. There were others so much prettier.

His head had slanted slightly toward her, and his eyes had locked her in place.

“Chipped, Zelda,” he’d said. “The vase’s disfigurements display its inner beauty and its strength. Don’t you think so?”

He’d purchased it for more than it was worth and handed it to her. “For your birthday, my sweet Zelda.”

They had returned home, and he’d taken it to their bedroom and placed it on the nightstand by his side of the bed. “Think of us every time you turn toward where I sleep and see the vase,” Beno had said, and he had taken her in his arms.

Afterward, exhausted from their lovemaking, she’d fallen asleep with her head lying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Beno snuck away just as he had come, suddenly. Since then, fresh purple and white orchids, accompanied by a single bloody red rose in the middle, have appeared on their doorsteps every two weeks, accompanied by a four-word text-“to fill the vase.”

https://patgarciaauthor.com/?p=8831

AN URBAN NIGHTMARE BY Pat Garcia @pat_garcia @patgarcia.bsky.social @amwriting @rrbc-org,bsky.social #writingjourney #romancereader #bloghop #MFRWbloghop

Hello, Everyone,

After an unfortunate loss in my family, I am back. I haven’t formatted my latest story yet because I didn’t take the time. But I have started on it.

Today, I am presenting a snippet from my upcoming anthology, which is scheduled for release in winter 2026.

I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

Shalom shalom,

Pat Garcia

Shrill screaming woke Zelda. She scooted nearer to Beno, thinking she was dreaming. Beno put his arm around her, bringing her closer, and she continued to sleep.
The shrieks came again, and this time, sobs accompanied them. Zelda raised herself to look over at the clock on Beno’s nightstand. What woman would be walking around at two-thirty in the morning, screaming and sobbing outside of their bedroom window? She immediately thought about the missing women from their urban neighborhood, and her heart sank.
“Not again,” she murmured. Six women had already disappeared without a trace. The police were helpless, and Zelda trembled in Beno’s arms. Was it happening again?
“Beno, wake up!” She whispered, frantically shaking his shoulder.
“What, My Sweet? Can’t you sleep?” Beno said, drowsily.
“I think I heard a woman screaming and sobbing outside by our bedroom window.”
Beno took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Now, come to your senses,” Zelda pleaded.
Beno released Zelda quickly and sprang out of bed. Three women, two teenage girls, and an eleven-year-old had vanished into thin air in their urban neighborhood over the past three weeks.
“Where did you hear the noise, Zelda?” Beno asked as he got dressed.
“From outside Marcus’s house, which faces our bedroom. There were horrible sounds of helplessness mixed with tears.”
“I’m going to take a look outside.”
“I’m going with you,” Zelda said, getting out of bed.
“No, you’ll stay here.”
“No, I won’t,” Zelda said and put on a knee-length Mou Mou dress that he’d bought her while on a mission in Hawaii.

https://patgarciaauthor.com/?p=8798

THE RED WHEELBARROW BY Pat Garcia

@patgarcia.bsky.social @pat_garcia @rrbc-0rg.bsky.social #women’sfiction #romancereader #writingjourney #amwriting #romancebooks #contemporaryromance #mfrwbookhooks

Hello, Everyone,

Today, I continue working on the Flash Fiction Anthology, which is scheduled for release in winter 2026. I have been privileged to participate in Flash Fiction contests over the years. I love Flash Fiction. I have learned a great deal about the Flash Fiction and short stories Genre from reading the works of Eudora Welty, Joyce Carol Oates, and the late Canadian writer Alice Munro. 

This is a snippet I wrote for The WEP, a writing organization founded by Denise Covey. I learned a lot from all the writers who participated in the contests. I hope you enjoy the snippet. 

Shalom shalom

Pat Garcia

 

EXCERPT:

Netta scrutinized the red wheelbarrow placed before the floor-to-ceiling window of the living room.

That wheelbarrow isn’t just attractive, but it’s a downright elixir for the soul.

She stood between the doorframe of the door, across the hall from the living room, admiring and examining the object of her curiosity. It stood so majestically before the window, in its bright red color, as if it were giving a queenly audience. She could have sworn the thing was smiling at her.  

Her husband, Jonathan, had turned it into a flower bed. He had chosen the living room to place it in, stating that he could admire his handy work when he returned home every evening.   

Netta shook her head. In the sunlight, the red wheelbarrow seemed to wink, but a wheelbarrow couldn’t wink, or could it?

She’d met Jonathan at her favorite Italian restaurant. She’d been sitting at a corner table with a big plate of spaghetti and a mozzarella and tomato salad. She’d just happened to look toward the entrance door of the restaurant and had gazed directly into the saddest but prettiest green eyes she’d ever seen. He’d stared back at her and then walked to her table and asked if she minded him sitting with her. Her mouth had been full of spaghetti, and the only way she could answer him without spilling the food out of her mouth had been to nod in acceptance.

Jonathan had ordered his meal after introducing himself and then began asking her questions, which made her hesitant to answer. When he’d asked her about her marital status, her eyebrows had furrowed, and her heartbeat had quickened. She’d not been so sure that it had been a good idea to let him sit at her table. Then, Jonathan assured her that he posed no danger to her. He was looking for someone to share his home with. He’d said he wanted the comfort of knowing that a trustworthy person was living with him. He needed a wife but not one to share his bed. Just a faithful wife to be there. He’d insisted on putting that clausal in their marriage agreement.  

At first, Netta didn’t believe or trust him. She thought he was some ax murderer or a cannibal who wanted to kill and eat her. Her vivid imagination had her packed away in plastic freezer bags in small portions in his freezer. With her chubby size thighs, big arms, and breasts, she was pretty sure Jonathan would have had enough meat for a year.

Netta didn’t understand why a man from out of nowhere was asking her, a stranger, to marry him. What she did know was that she said yes.

https://patgarciaauthor.com/?p=8598

The Flood That NO One Thought Would Come by Pat Garcia

@patgarcia.bsky.social @pat_garcia @rrbc-org.bsky.social @amwriting #romancebooks #readersfavorite

Hello, Everyone,

Here is a new snippet from my Anthology of Flash Fiction Stories that will be released in winter.

Wishing all of you a lovely day.

EXCERPT:

The man worked hard. He and his three sons hammered and pitched each wooden plank together. Sure, people thought he was crazy, but that didn’t disturb him. He closed his ears to what others said. If he were honest, and he was, he didn’t give a hoot. He hadn’t made it so far in life by seeking the approval of others.


The other day, his sons had informed him that the neighbors thought he was insane. He had laughed and told his sons to get to work before he fired them. After all, he was not only their father but their employer. No one would give them the amount of money for the work they did for him. They had no choice.
The father gazed down at the oldest son. The son looked up at the sun. The old man thought about the discussion they had had the night before. His sons thought he was a daydreamer and had invited a lawyer to his house without his permission. Their excuse for not telling him had him laughing. They wanted to rattle his brain.


After talking with him, the lawyer said that declaring their father insane wouldn’t work. Besides, the majority of the judges knew him too well as that no-nonsense man who spoke what he thought.
The sons’ wives were outraged, shouting they had become the laughingstock of the whole town, maybe the whole world. They were sick and tired of people pointing fingers at them. So, what, the old man said. They had tried to explain what it meant to them not to be among the popular crowd. They considered these people their friends.

Come to my house for tea; my wife would enjoy your company, he’d answered back.

Shalom shalom

Pat Garcia

https://patgarciaauthor.com/?p=8560

Boteè and The Strain Man By Pat Garcia

@patgarcia.bsky.social @pat_garcia @rrbc-org.bsky.social @4rwisawriters@bsky-social #women’sfiction #romancereader #writingjourney #amwriting #mfrwbooks

Hello, Everyone,
My Snippet for today continues with a second excerpt from Boteè and The Strain Man.

Hello, Everyone,

My Snippet for today continues with a second excerpt from Boteè and The Strain Man. 

EXCERPT

Boteè and the Strain Man

Strain Man played the first trio, and the spotlight appeared, covering her with light from her head to her feet. The music lifted her body, lying it flat as if she lay on a cot. The music raised her from the ground and lulled her into a trance. She looked up at the sky as he transported her with the musical notes he played. It was peaceful, and she began to snore. Strain Man moved into the second trio to wake her. The light over her head brightened, and she felt like she was lying on clouds of sheet music.

Suddenly, she lay before Strain Man. He bowed his head towards her. His cone-shaped head shone, and his metallic clothing looked absolutely chic. 

Strange, she thought, looking at him, there are no stars in heaven.

Strain Main replied with the third trio movement of The Stars and Stripes Forever. It was the only song he knew from her planet to communicate with her. “They’ll come. They’re just over the horizon.”

Boteè’s dark contralto answer made his face shine, “Amen, Amen, Amen.” She sang.

——-

Have a lovely rest of the week.

Shalom shalom

Pat Garcia

https://patgarciaauthor.com/?p=8519

Boteè and The Strain Man By Pat Garcia @patgarcia.bsky.social @pat_garcia @rrbc-org.bsky.social #women’sfiction #romancereader #writingjourney @amwriting #romancebooks #contemporaryromance

EXCERPT

Boteè and The Strain Man 

The Stars and Stripes Forever’s first impatient blast sounded. Boteè jumped off her sofa. She got her jacket and grabbed her tiny case. Then she departed her third-floor apartment. She left a note for her best girlfriend, Peggy,

On the road with my friend. 

Don’t know how long, but I’ll be back whenever my friend brings me back to earth. 

Boteè called him the Strain Man. His shiny metallic skin tone, high cheekbones, and pointed fingers had drawn her to him. He was different from the people on earth, and she liked that about him. She danced down the steps of her apartment building, not wanting to keep him waiting. He promised to take her beyond the clouds to see another part of the universe.

Excited at the opportunity to see him again, Boteè stepped outside. She closed her eyes and hit the Deep C with her contralto voice. It was two octaves down from Middle C of the primary scale. She sang Amen note by note while holding her breath. As she slid up the scale, she accented the rise in a syncopated rhythm until she reached Middle C. She stopped, took a deep breath, and waited for his response.

At their secret spot, Strain Man was surrounded by trees hiding the white, invisible lights of his futuristic jet. He raised the trumpet to his lips and blew the first notes of The Stars and Stripes Forever. He felt the tug of his notes lifting her off the ground to bring her to him. He smiled. 

Have a lovely day.

Shalom shalom

Pat Garcia

https://patgarciaauthor.com/?p=8474

THE BRIDGE OF HOPE By Pat Garcia

@patgarcia.bsky.social @pat_garcia @rrbc-org.bsky.social #women’sfiction

#romancereader #writingjourney @amwriting

Hello, Everyone,

This is a small snippet out of the Anthology I am gathering from my Flash Fiction stories. Each story is limited to 500-1500 words and will be released in winter 2026.

EXCERPT

Lionel didn’t answer. He walked to their bathroom to shower, leaving her lying on their bed. Sade turned on her side and watched him. His back toward her, she wondered why she had married him in the first place. It had taken him three and a half years to build the bridge of callousness she tasted in her mouth. She felt the rejection in her heart. The repudiation of who she was gnawed at her conscience. She placed her right palm on her slight bulge. He didn’t care that she was twenty weeks pregnant. Girdles and corsets, wide dresses, and baggy pants couldn’t hide her weight gain. Her bulging breasts were also noticeable. Lionel didn’t find it funny and told her she looked like a hippopotamus. He found it revolting and told her so.

I wish you all a lovely day.

Shalom shalom

Pat Garcia

https://patgarciaauthor.com/2025/05/28/the-bridge-of-hope-by-pat-garcia/

Discover The Power of Touch: Book Trailer Released

@patgarcia.bsky.social @pat_garcia @amwriting @rrbc-org.bsky.social #women’sfiction #romancereader #romancebooks #contemporaryromance #readersfavorite #booklover

HELLO, EVERYONE,

THIS IS A SHOUT-OUT FOR MY BOOK TRAILER: THE POWER OF TOUCH!

I believe in giving credit where credit is due. 4WILLS PUB has done an outstanding job developing the Book Trailer for THE POWER OF TOUCH!

To say it is magnificent is an understatement. Read the book and you’ll see what I mean.

I hope you enjoy the book and the book trailer as much as I do.

Have a lovely day,

Shalom shalom,

Pat Garcia

Available in all Amazon Stores as a Paperback or an ebook.

LABEL. ME. MAN. By Pat Garcia

@pat_garcia @patgarcia.bsky.social @rrbc-org.bsky.social #women’sfiction #RomanceReader @amwriting #readerfavorite #contemporaryromance

Hello, Everyone,

Here is another snippet from LABEL. ME. MAN, a work in progress that will be available for pre-order in June 2025.

Cover by 4WILLS

Blurb:

Born a savant with Autism Spectrum Disorders and labeled as unusually bright, Gioacchino Tarinni lacked any social, emotional, or spiritual graces. The scientific world labeled him a Robot. Peddled between medical offices and laboratories, doctors and scientists examined whether he could be considered human. He has failed in every experiment except for his friendship with his manservant and chauffeur, Ferro. But no one knows how it happened.
Sitting in a cafe with Ferro, Gioacchino’s eyes are drawn to a woman working on her tablet. She has a head full of braids, and he attempts to count them. But the woman keeps moving her head, foiling his efforts to get an accurate count. Annoyed, he approaches her table, intending to ask her to be still. However, in a moment of impulsive audacity, he proposes marriage instead.

EXCERPT

Gioacchino took the stairs slowly to their bedroom as he pondered why she’d gone to his office. He entered their bedroom quietly. Even though he’d agreed to her returning home, he didn’t understand why. Her early morning escape from their home had cost him his ability to concentrate on his negotiations. After receiving the text message from Ferro that Jediah had disappeared somewhere in the house, he rescheduled the talks for the next day and gave Ferro strict instructions to keep his eyes open.

The door that led out to the spacious balcony adjoining their bedroom stood open. The venetian blinds were hanging loosely down, with the panels slightly opened, letting through rays of sunlight.

Gioacchino grinned to himself. Jediah’s clothing lay scattered in a pattern on the floor. He picked them up as he reached them, piece by piece, and headed to the closet to hang them up.

Your disorderliness coincides very well with my need to organise and order things.

He looked at the motionless figure lying on her stomach in their bed, and his eyes widened in shock.

He blinked to ensure he was seeing correctly. A series of numbers shaped into a curvaceous body lay on their bed. Until today, he’d seen Jediah as scrap pieces of brown, velvety cloth he couldn’t put together. It astounded him that the outer layer of her skin was comprised of integers.

He stared at the bed, expecting the numbers to disappear; instead, two large, marbled threes looked back at him and laughed silently.

Discombobulated, Gioacchino turned to the closet to dispose of her clothing, shaken by what he saw. He had long calculated the function of picking her clothes up every day, and getting to the closet, variable a, to getting to variable b, which was landing in their bed at night to create order among the velvety brown pieces he assumed were who she was.

“You’re home. No one told me you’d be home early,” Jediah said, not moving.

“I couldn’t think in the office,” he answered, putting her dress on a hanger.

“Why not? I told you I wouldn’t run away again.”

“How are you?” Gio asked, ignoring her response and asking a question of his own.

“Fine. Are you all right?”

“I’m okay.”

“Just okay?”

“At the moment, just okay,” he repeated, turning toward her, frowning, hoping the numbers hadn’t disappeared.

“Something happened after you brought me home and returned to work.”

“What?”  She was still a cluster of numbers but had now transformed into a curvaceous one stretched out on the bed, and that stirred his libido.

“I went to write in your office and didn’t think to tell Ferro. I was so happy to find a hiding place where I could write without people watching me that I didn’t think about telling him or anyone else where I was,” Jediah said, gazing at him. “I didn’t mean to upset you after what I experienced with you in the car on the way home this morning. Does that make sense to you?”

“So it wasn’t intentional?”

“No, although I’m sure Ferro thinks it was.”

The frown on Gioacchino’s face faded. The harshness in his voice vanished, and he addressed her softly in a soft, deep whisper.

“Stop worrying. Ferro told me he didn’t think you meant to cause a furore. But he was concerned because no one knew where you were.”

“So you’ve already heard?”

***

https://patgarciaauthor.com/?p=8314

Shalom shalom

Pat Garcia

LABEL. ME. MAN By Pat Garcia

@pat_garcia @patgarcia.bsky.social #writingjourney @amwriting @rrbc-org.bsky.social #romancereader #Bloghop

Hello, Everyone,

This is another snippet from LABEL. ME. MAN., which will be available for preorder on June 1, 2025.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I do, revealing the characters.

Blurb:

Born a savant with Autism Spectrum Disorders and labeled as unusually bright, Gioacchino Tarinni lacked any social, emotional, or spiritual graces. The scientific world labeled him a Robot. Peddled between medical offices and laboratories, doctors and scientists examined whether he could be considered human. He has failed in every experiment except for his friendship with his manservant and chauffeur, Ferro. But no one knows how it happened.
Sitting in a cafe with Ferro, Gioacchino’s eyes are drawn to a woman working on her tablet. She has a head full of braids, and he attempts to count them. But the woman keeps moving her head, foiling his efforts to get an accurate count. Annoyed, he approaches her table, intending to ask her to be still. However, in a moment of impulsive audacity, he proposes marriage instead.

Excerpt:

Gioacchino waited until they had stepped outside into the morning air to look sideways at her again. Her brown lips looked like a sweet treat. He liked covering her full lips with his own and tasting them. Precious and priceless, her plump lips awakened his manhood and gave his life meaning and normalcy.
Having never dated an African American woman, Gio found Jediah, with her full lips, curvy hips, and big breasts with pointed nipples, fascinating from the first time he saw her sitting in the café. Even though his mathematical intelligence and photographic memory had catapulted him to become one of the top five major players in mergers and acquisitions for hotels, it was nothing compared to his first meeting with Jediah. With her, he was human and not a robot. He felt genuine compassion, and more naturally than ever, his blood pressure sank to normal; he could interact with Kay, his secretary, and his migraines vanished. The medical specialist in charge of tracking his developmental changes was astonished.
Only yesterday evening, he had wished to tell Jediah how making love to her caused his blood pressure problem to vanish and helped him to deal with the torturous beliefs that he was some spectacular idiot savant or robot that was born on the earth once in a million years, but she had fallen asleep after their lovemaking.

Shalom shalom

Pat Garcia

https://patgarciaauthor.com/2025/04/23/label-me-man-by-pat-garcia-3/