Stinky Stories by Sarah J. McNeal and a GIVE AWAY

Smells linger a long time in our memories. I still remember the clean, flowery smell of Sweetheart soap in my grandmother’s bathroom. I don’t even think Sweetheart soap is still manufactured. The fragrance takes me back in time the same way the smell of Calamine lotion makes me think of that summer my sister and I spent with our grandmother and got the worst case of poison ivy in my life. That same summer I found a tremendous patch of wild strawberries that were the sweetest tasting berries I ever ate. We all went to the patch, picked buckets full of those berries and Grams made jars and jars of strawberry jam.

The first time the family stepped foot into the two story white house that would become our home for the rest of my childhood, we were greeted by musty smell of old cedar and over ripe apples drifting on the breeze from the orchard. The house enchanted me with its unique and comforting scent. It was as if the scent promised, “This is the place you can rest your heads at night and I will shelter you from all harm.” It’s been many years since I’ve inhaled that promise.

Do you still remember the smell of the fresh ink on those mimeographed papers from school back in the 50s? I liked that smell so much I would hold the paper close to my face and deep breathe it in.

I remember the smell of my childhood friend’s room smelled similar to Chanel #5, lightly sweet like fresh summer flowers.

My mother smelled like Camay soap and, when she dressed up to go someplace special, she used the rosy scent of To A Wild Rose or the more sophisticated scent of Arpege. Pop, on the other hand, always smelled like Old Spice, a scent I find comforting even to this day.

We all have these memories of certain fragrances that take us back to another time and place. When writing a layered scene, I try to use all the senses including smells. Some scents have to be imagined by the reader. For instance, if I write, “She smelled like sunshine,” well, we all know sunshine doesn’t have a scent, but it does evoke memories of coconut tanning oil we used to sunbath on the beach, or sweet honeysuckle warmed by the sun while we ate outside. Including smell makes a story come alive. Negative scents like sour beer, bad breath, and body odor also bring to mind the unpleasantness of certain people in our memories.

Here is a passage from my recent release, HOME FOR THE HEART where smell played an important roll in the scene. It is the opening scene.

Excerpt using smell:

In the quiet of the barn filled with the smell of fresh hay, horse manure, and leather tack, Hank sensed rather than heard someone enter the building. Ah, the smell of sunshine and roses. Must be Lucille Thoroughgood. Without turning to look at her, he set the pitchfork against the wall of Lonesome’s stall. “What do you want, Lucy?” he grumbled as a greeting.

“Mr. Wilding, I have something I’d like to propose to you.” Her voice sounded tense. When he turned to face her, he saw those blue eyes dart away from his to peer at the straw on the floor. She promptly straightened her spine and must have forced herself to look him straight in the eye. Her starched manner made him want to mess with her.

“A proposal?” He moved closer to her…maybe too close. He felt something shift in his chest like a warning bell. “Well now, I haven’t ever had a lady propose to me before.” He joked, badly, just to get her goat. Generally, women were not to be trusted. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. But Lucy was his old friend since grade school. Even though she must have been born straight-laced and proper, she spoke her truth, plain and simple. Beneath that barbed wire exterior beat a heart of gold.

 

Lucy propped her fists on her hips and he thought she looked like a charming sugar bowl all ruffed up in her pink flowered dress and her sweet, straw hat that sat askew on her gleaming brown hair. She knitted those brows together and narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not proposing marriage to you, Mr. Wilding. I’m proposing a business deal…sort of.”

HOME FOR THE HEART by Sarah J. McNeal 

Logline:

Love doesn’t come easy…for some, it may never come at all.

BLURB:

Lucy Thoroughgood has gone and done it now—fallen in love with Hank Wilding, a man she’s known all her life. He’s content with friendship, but Lucy’s heart has flown the coop and she knows she’s in love with the determined bachelor. When she visits him with a proposition—to let the orphans she cares for learn to ride his horses during the summer—he surprises her with one of his own. She must accompany him to the dancing lessons he’s signed up for.

Secretly pleased, she hopes that perhaps this arrangement might lead to more than friendship. But Hank’s loved hard and lost, with his engagement to one of the popular town girls going south two years earlier. He’s sworn to never lose his heart to another—including Miss Lucy Thoroughgood.

A teenage orphan, Chayton, could be the key to thawing Hank’s heart—but danger follows the embittered boy. Will Hank be able to give Chayton the home he yearns for—or will the boy’s past bring only sorrow to those he cares for? When a Lakota premonition becomes reality, Lucy’s life hangs in the balance. Will Hank have the chance to let Lucy know how wrong he was?

Buy Links:

Smashwords:  Home for the Heart

Amazon:  Kindle             Paperback

What scents do you recall from your childhood? Do they transport you to another time, another place, or to a certain emotion?

A lucky commenter will win a digital copy of my new release, HOME FOR THE HEART!

Sarah J. McNeal is a multi-published author of several genres including time travel, paranormal, western and historical fiction. She is a retired ER and Critical Care nurse who lives in North Carolina with her four-legged children, Lily, the Golden Retriever and Liberty, the cat. Besides her devotion to writing, she also has a great love of music and plays several instruments including violin, bagpipes, guitar and harmonica. Her books and short stories may be found at Prairie Rose Publications and its imprints Painted Pony Books, and Fire Star Press. Some of her fantasy and paranormal books may also be found at Publishing by Rebecca Vickery and Victory Tales Press. She welcomes you to her website and social media:

Website 

My Amazon Author’s Page

Facebook

Twitter

The Wildings

Fantasy and Dreams Blog

Sweethearts of the West

Prairie Rose Publications Blog

  

Neighborhood Stores, Community Life, and Hazard, Wyoming by Sarah J. McNeal

(Mom standing in front of the house where I grew up)

I remember when the word community meant knowing your neighbors, going to the same church and school with the people you knew. Central to the community, was the little neighborhood store. The store was always small, but had a little bit of everything including gasoline pumps outside. And, by the way, I remember when gas was 15 cents a gallon.

The store had grocery items like flour, sugar, shortening, eggs, usually from a local farmer, along with shelves of canned goods. Behind the counter was the kid magnet rows of candy usually for pennies. There was always the big metal drink box that kept bottled drinks super cold with circulating ice water. There were no canned drinks back then. A kid could make money by gathering up all the glass drink bottles in the neighborhood. No neighborhood store was complete without cleaning items, brooms, mops, laundry detergent and so on as well as cleaning supplies for humans like soap and shampoo.

No matter when I went to the store, usually running errands for my mother, I would meet someone I knew. I felt a part of the community in those days. I knew the owners and their daughter very well because they went to my church across the street from their store. The wife was my Sunday school teacher. Once a person has known life on a small scale like that, it sticks in the mind and heart forever.

Now that my town has grown into a metropolitan city with an international airport, a bunch of huge banks downtown that have taken the place of department stores like Belk’s, Ivey’s, and Sears and Roebuck, there’s not much reason to venture into town. All those stores have moved into malls or classy shopping centers. Shopping centers and malls may be convenient, and I can understand why they’ve become so popular, but when I go to any of them, it’s rare to meet anyone I know.  

I realize I’m waxing nostalgic here, but I miss that sense of community I had as a kid. I live one street off from one of the central streets that runs straight through the heart of town. I can still see the remnants of what was once a little community until it was eaten up by the big city. I wonder sometimes if it would be such a terrible thing if we didn’t have gasoline so available any more. I would imagine we would convert back to community life in which we could walk or ride a bike to a neighborhood store for those household supplies and venture into town only once in a great while for something special. I would know my neighbors better and feel more a part of my community. Maybe it would be a good thing if we didn’t have to get in our cars to get to stores and services.

All my western stories take place in a community like the one I remember from my childhood. Even though Hazard, Wyoming is fictional, it’s the kind of town I grew up in. Hazard is a place where everybody knows each other and they take care of each other. It’s the kind of place where I would love to live. I recently submitted a new Wilding western to PRP titled Home for the Heart. Banjo’s twin boys, Hank and Kit have grown into men. Hank owns a ranch and avoids marriage at all costs, and Kit, who suffers from PTSD after WWII, is a lawyer running for mayor of Hazard.

Here is a bit about Home for the Heart:

Love doesn’t come easy…for some, it may never come at all.

Blurb:

Lucille Thoroughgood is a social worker for orphan children. She is known to the town’s folk as dependable, logical, determined, and…well, stubborn. But Lucille has a secret affection for the determined bachelor, Hank Wilding.

Hank Wilding loved hard and lost. He has sworn to never marry. After Lucille makes a bargain with him, he agrees to allow troubled and physically challenged children to ride his horses as equine therapy. One of the orphans is a half Lakota boy, Chayton, who reminds Hank of his own father’s painful childhood.  

But danger follows in the shadows of the rejected, embittered teenager that may take the life of someone Hank and the town of Hazard holds dear.

So, as you can see, I’ve been living in memory lane for a bit. Right now I’m plotting out Kit’s story and the irrepressible, June Wingate. Things are really heatin’ up in Hazard.

 Sarah J. McNeal is a multi-published author of several genres including time travel, paranormal, western and historical fiction. She is a retired ER and Critical Care nurse who lives in North Carolina with her four-legged children, Lily, the Golden Retriever and Liberty, the cat. Besides her devotion to writing, she also has a great love of music and plays several instruments including violin, bagpipes, guitar and harmonica. Her books and short stories may be found at Prairie Rose Publications and its imprints Painted Pony Books, and Fire Star Press. Some of her fantasy and paranormal books may also be found at Publishing by Rebecca Vickery and Victory Tales Press. She welcomes you to her website and social media:

Facebook

Twitter

Website

My Amazon Author’s Page

Prairie Rose Author Page

The Wildings

PbRV Author Page

Fantasy and Dreams Blog

Once Upon A Word

Sweethearts of the West

Note: country store picture courtesy of Pinterest