I am surrounded by strong, loving, beautiful women. They inspired me to include three strong women in my forthcoming novel, California Rifles: the Major, the Marshal, and la Mujer. Here are two extracts that introduce one of my fictional characters:
Her eyes opened. It was morning. Today would be a long day, a hard day--
a pivotal day. She lay in bed staring at the adobe ceiling. She noticed a hairline crack. “How long have you been up there?”
Linda Imelda Cortés-Colón sat up in her bed. Her leg ached but not beyond toleration. She massaged the muscles for several minutes. Better. She stood. Good. She walked to the dressing table. She brushed her long, mahogany hair—one hundred strokes. Her face was youngish, but no longer youthful. “Maybe the Norteamericanos are right to call it a ‘vanity’,” she thought regarding the table and mirror.
Linda hurried down the stairs to cook breakfast for la familia. They were not her family. They paid her salary…
A woman in a nearby pew stood and said, “Está bien padre.” She lifted a white, lace veil from her face, faced Roarke, and announced in English, “I am Linda Cortés-Colón.”
Roarke looked at the woman. She was about his age, taller than average—nearly his height. Her modest dress could not conceal her voluptuous figure. Her face, though not beautiful in a traditional way, was intriguing. Perhaps her nose was a bit larger than most, but it was perfectly symmetrical. Perhaps her almond-shaped brown eyes were set a bit wide, but they were highlighted with attractive golden flecks. Her lips were full.
She cocked her head, smiled, and repeated, “I am Linda Cortés-Colón.” Roarke recognized the smile. Rigo had described it many times. He had said that it always brought him joy.