Marianne Dora (also known as Paula Freda) Rose – författare

Excerpt: "e;I guarantee you, that within ten years I'll be our department's president!"e; David's tone brooked no argument."e;I'm sure the score of hopefuls in line ahead of you, would beg to differ,"e; his friend and co-worker remarked. Age had mellowed his deep baritone.The elevator door opened on the fifth floor housing the cafeteria, and Debbie entered. Chin-length mousy brown hair framed her cheeks as she bent her head and raised her wrist to read the time on her watch. She was unaware that a smidgen of ketchup hung to the corner of her mouth. She'd lost track of time and gone over her 45 minutes allotted for lunch. No time to clean up in the rest room, only a quick swipe of her napkin across her lips and a hurried run to the elevators to return to the tenth floor and her cubicle and computer.David's voice from behind froze her into place. "e;Ben, I assure you those hopefuls won't stand a chance. I have them beat by education, seniority, presence and a well-kept list of any and all their mistakes, no matter how small or pardonable."e;Ben raised an eyebrow. "e;No Mercy, no quarter given,"e; he said without surprise. "e;You'll mow down anyone who gets in your way."e;"e;Anyone?"e; Debbie asked.Both men started, becoming aware of her."e;No matter who you hurt?"e; she asked.David's ego demanded he answer, without noticing who was asking, except for the female voice. "e;Yes,"e; he replied, "e;no matter whose or how many toes I'll need to step on."e;He waited for a rebuttal, or an argument, but none came. The silence made him look at the speaker. She looked familiar, but he wasn't certain from where. Not surprising. She wasn't much to look at. No one he'd want to remember. Except perhaps for her eyes. Mousy brown like her hair. He felt the urge to laugh. Those nondescript eyes were gazing at him with compassion. He was tempted to ask who she was, but the elevator came to a halt and the doors to the tenth floor opened. She hurried out."e;Hey,"e; Ben nudged him. "e;We getting out?"e;"e;Yes ... yes, of course,"e; David said, stepping off the elevator. It was their floor as well. "e;Silly female,"e; he muttered. "e;Who is she, do you know?"e;Ben shook his head. "e;No idea. But the tenth floor is your department.

Paula Freda writing as Marianne Dora Rose presents two love stories entwined, one-hundred twenty-five years apart, yet linked by one thread, Love's Timeless Secret. Thomas Driscoll, elder son of Leatrice and Seth Driscoll, teaches Montana History at his local college, along with an Adult Ed course. When he suggests an optional paper on memoirs garnered from his students' own past relatives. Janice Miller, the plainest student in his Adult Education class, prim and proper, every facial feature in its place, but no spice, bland, brings him a diary she discovered in an old trunk in her attic, scripted by her great grandmother, several times removed, Elspeth Gillian. Elspeth is a lonely young woman, living in the 1890s, not beautiful or alluring, passed over for prettier and docile, younger ladies. Her only recourse is escape or a forced marriage of last resort, even if her escape should lead her to yet another uncertain future. She needs to be loved, not used. At a time in history when women had few rights, and even less say in their futures, Elspeth has the courage to create her own future. He reads the diary and can't help visualizing Janice as Elspeth, as he discovers Love's Timeless Secret. - Excerpts: It was difficult not to notice her. She was the plainest girl in the Adult Ed class he taught in the evening. Most of his students were past their forties, well dressed, even in casual wear, and interested in the history of the Montana country, USA. There was something about Janice, only a few weeks younger than him, that cried, prim and proper always. No makeup. Each facial feature in its proper place, but bland, no spice. She was intelligent, though, despite she'd left college after only one year. He could read the earnest interest in her eyes as she listened to him lecture on the subject closest to his heart, the history of Montana. - Excerpt: - Elspeth's Diary: When my father told me he had accepted Mr. Grady's proposal to marry me, I reasoned with myself that at my age and unattractiveness, any proposal was worth a second look. But the moment I met Mr. Grady, my heart plummeted. He was a grey-haired, dried up, stiff-nosed, and boney old man, unpalatable qualities I might have overlooked, for a kinder soul than my father's, until he began to speak about his estate, his money, his need to sire an heir. He spoke coldly, logically, his pin nose wrinkling with distaste when I asked him a question important to me. "e;How do you feel about our good Lord and his command to be kind and charitable?"e; His reply sent chills up my spine. "e;Young woman, the reason I've retained my wealth and my position in life, is that I see through these attempts to control my emotions, my actions and my purse strings."e; I glanced at my father. He nodded with approval. A man after his own heart. "e;Is that what you intend teaching your offspring?"e; I asked Mr. Grady. "e;I will teach my son the value of monetary possessions and how to protect the estate I intend passing on to him; prepare him to avoid emotional entanglements and always use logic and reason, not transitory feelings when making decisions."e; My impassioned refusal right to his face shocked him. My father quickly told him, "e;You see my dilemma. She needs a firm hand to relieve her of impractical notions. With her looks she has nothing to offer, except her womanly duties and procreative capabilities. If you will have her, I will see to it that she accepts your proposal, willingly."e; I gasped at the threat in his voice, understanding at last my deceased mother's sadness during her married life. My sweet mother, warm, tenderhearted, giving. Luckily, because I was a girl and not entitled by law to inherit, my raising had been left to my mother. But the angels spirited her soul to heaven too soon, leaving a grieving daughter to the care of an insensitive, cold, hardened father, without other children, especially a longed-for son....

t the age of nineteen, Jessie eloped with Walt, a ranch hand she had met on the ranch of her mother's best friends, the Driscolls, in Montana.It took Jessie only three months into her marriage to learn the reason Walt had responded to her advances. Alone with her, his true nature surfaced. Right to her face, he told Jessie the real reason he'd married her, and how sick he was of her cloying, adolescent affection. Hurt and disillusioned, Jessie's rose-colored glasses shattered. But reality wasn't finished with her. She woke in the morning to find Walt missing. On his side of the bed, a two-sentence note. "e;I'm gone. Don't look for me."e;All the same, for two years she waited, with never a word, until one afternoon, the Driscolls brought her authenticated documents, proving that when he married her, Walt had a wife and two children under another name.Indoctrinated since childhood in fairytales with happy endings, her spirit, her view of life and the pursuit of happiness, severely scarred, especially regarding the story of Cinderella and Prince Charming. She swore off any future relationships, and turned her nose up at the need for a Prince Charming.Cinderella Ice. Like the Snow Queen.Jessie made up her mind. Yes, that's what I'll be from this day forth — Cinderella IceExcerpt:: "e;Have you returned home to stay?"e; Michael asked. ..."e;For the time being. I need to re-define myself,"e; Jessie said. "e;Where do I fit in? What is my goal in life? What do I hope to accomplish? How do I clear up the mess I've made of my life so far?"e;"e;That's a lot of riddles for a broken heart to solve. A lot of weight for a wounded spirit to carry,"e; Michael said. "e;Maybe you should do what they advise swimmers who have overexerted themselves — Just float for a while."e;Just float for a while. Michael's words resonated with her unhappiness, along with his concerned attitude and his smile. She had always liked his smile, even when he wasn't as attractive in his teens, or as well dressed. The executive style suited him to a tee. Cinderella Ice frowned. Jessie reminded herself that although Michael wasn't a blood relation, he'd always been considered family, because of the strong friendship between their respective families. He was in the loop, as her elder sister Carol was used to say."e;Just float for a while. Sound advice, Michael, that I'll take to heart. Thank you."e;His smile widened, and Jessie had to look away. Yes, definitely handsomer than she remembered him.

Dear sweet Evie was like a breath of fresh air. Her eyes reminded him of his mother's eyes, dark and flashing, as when she'd greeted him at the door, excited, bouncing on the tips of her toes, in an attempt to welcome him with a hug. Spontaneous, that was the word that best described her. He was never sure how to respond to spontaneous. He was like his father, in that respect. Everything planned and organized.Yes, he thought, Evie was perfect for Richard. Even her career choice would blend well with his brother's quiet, patient, see-the-goodness-in-all personality. And her spontaneity would shake his complacency and awaken his need for a keen enjoyment of life at its best. Joie_de_vivre, he thought with enthusiasm."e;Social Services is a good choice, Evie,"e; he said. Turning to his brother, "e;Don't you think, bro?"e; he asked."e;Yes, a very good choice. Especially for Evie. I remember her in high school. Always into charitable activities — collecting clothes for storm victims, or helping out with charity benefits anyway she could."e;"e;Yes, I recall,"e; Henry said. "e;In fact, you both were on the team that decorated the school hall for my senior prom. You guys did a fabulous job!"e; Memories were flooding back. "e;And didn't you take her to your senior prom, a couple of years later?"e; he asked Richard.His brother shook his head. "e;No. Not that I didn't ask her, but she had someone else in mind."e;

Marianne Dora Rose writing as Paula Freda presents a clean and wholesome Christian romance for hearts of all ages. Plain Helen, frumpy, dumpy, frizzy haired freshman Helen, who will love plain Helen? Certainly not the handsomest, smartest, even-tempered, good-humored High School Senior, scholar, football athlete, hunk, Kurt Lance. Though he notices her kind innocent sweet nature, he is quickly tempted away by other girls, some just as sweet-natured, and prettier. Like many of the girls in school, Plain Helen has a crush on Kurt and never quite forgets. Ten years later, slightly less frumpy dumpy but still plain rainy day frizzy-haired Helen, employed in a publishing firm, is offered a promotion to an editorial position. But first she must apprentice with a full-fledged editor. She accepts and the following morning walks into the office of her new boss who turns out to be Kurt. Of course, she sighs, he doesn't remember her. Why should he? Or does he?

Roses in the Dark, Clean and Wholesome Romance novella quartet, for hearts of all ages, by Paula Freda aka Marianne Dora Rose.  In a garden overlooking the Hudson River Valley four close friends meet for lunch. Each is requested to compose a toast that epitomizes or symbolizes their search for fulfillment and happiness. As each of the four women compose their toast, their stories unfold. The Blue Jay and the Sparrow (Romance on the Continent) Mark can do no less than to honor his friend's final request that he take on the responsibility of the orphaned daughter, Cybelle. Nine years later, a grown-up Cybelle, declares her love. Though he dares not admit it, even to himself, it is mutual, for the feisty, impish brunette is everything buoyant Mark isn't. A gentleman to the core, Mark resists, but Cybelle is determined to win his heart. Adventure in Panama For a short time Doreen was ecstatically happy living with Esteban, on his huge estate in Panama, along with his dowager grandmother, and sibling twins. As her efforts to conceive children meet with failure she can no longer abide living in an old world environment that she feels is suffocating her, but her husband entrenched in old world pride and deeply in love with her refuses to let her go.  Henderson Sands (Romance in the Mediterranean) Harriet Henderson & Thorvald (Val) Sands christen the island on which they are stranded somewhere in the Mediterranean, Henderson Sands. Harriet fears, dislikes the opposite sex. Nightmares haunt her anytime she comes close to becoming involved with a man. In love with her, Val tackles with gusto the task of creating a habitable dwelling for them. Strongly attracted to him, the nightmares return. Driscoll's Lady Leatrice, tall, beautiful, rich, is in love with Seth Driscoll, a Montanan horse rancher. Seth's conception of eastern women is stereotyped, especially regarding wealthy, idle women. Not at all what he is looking for in a wife. Give him a woman of the land, Montanan bred. In a bizarre arrangement, Leatrice becomes his housekeeper. Can she prove herself, and will it be enough to capture his heart?

Paula Freda writing as Marianne Dora Rose presents a contemporary Christian Clean and Wholesome Romance entitled, "e;Love's Gracious Repertoire Entwined."e; Wonder whatever happened to Brian and Jasper, the two remaining heroes in love with MaryBeth from "e;Angels in my Corner"e;? The third hero, Cole, found the love of his life in "e;Love's Redemptive Quest."e; Will Brian and Jasper find their true loves? Find out in "e;Love's Gracious Repertoire Entwined,"e; two Clean and Wholesome Christian romances in one novella for hearts of all ages. Enjoy.

Science Fiction and Fantasy Short Stories by Marianne Dora Rose aka Paula Freda. ... Can love be found in the strangest places? Follow the paths of the heart and the stars and find out. ... The Ugliness Without ... Stardust ... Ghost of a Story ... Cathy & the Dolphin ... The Gently Cursed.

Time Encapsulated - Sweet Somethings (Poetry of the Soul) -  Precious Moments - Sweet Somethings - Inspirational, Family, Nostalgia, Religious, Romance, Sci/Fi and Fantasy. A Book of Poetry that has something for everyone, from precious moments in our lives to inspirational verse. Humor, tears and peace of mind and spirit. Time Encapsulated.

Jenny was a ruby, as was her sister and her mother. Her father was a sapphire as was her brother. Ruby and Sapphire were what the girls in her high school nicknamed their loveliest and most handsome schoolmates. But as lovely and handsome, most of them were selfish, self-obsessed snobs, never above ridiculing anyone they considered beneath them. Jenny was the exception. She never joined in their pranks, or snickered or looked down on anyone less fortunate, no matter how hard they tried to pull her in. They tolerated her because she was beautiful, talented, intelligent, sharp-witted, and her parents were among the wealthiest in the town. Even when she chose as her closest friend, the plainest girl in school, they turned a blind eye, because her fairness and kindness extended to them as well. Jenny had everything, beauty, brains, wealth, a promising future beginning with the most prestigious college her parents could well afford. She had everything, except for the boy she admired, and whose affection she yearned for. No one knew, not even Lilac, her closest friend. Certainly none of the Rubies. The boy's name was Ronald Leonard Chapman, and he lived a few blocks from her, which might as well have been the moon. She had never seen him before that afternoon at a baseball game in the town's major league ball park. Her parents had procured front row seating for her brother James and two of his friends, avid baseball fans like himself. He was older than her by three years, and since the day she began to walk, she had followed him everywhere around their home. They had remained close over the years. He had always been kind, never teased her as her older sibling, Eleanor. It was natural, when one of his friends had to forego the game, that her brother should ask her to take his place and join him. She might not be alive today, eight years later, Jenny thought, treading her comb through waves of short silky dark blonde hair, if it was not for Ron who happened to be sitting beside her that afternoon. She'd hardly noticed him, except for the cane that had caught her eye as she bent to re-tie the shoe lace that had come undone on her left sneaker. His teenage face, somewhat drawn and sallow, would be a memory long lost and gone, if during an unforgettable pitch, the ball had not shot like a rocket toward her head, and this stranger had pushed her to the side so that it impacted his collar bone, instead of cracking her skull.

Audrey Lambert is a self-sufficient woman, newly appointed as Manager of a Financial Consulting Department. Tall, sophisticated and well-educated, she hides well the simple dreamer within who finds immense joy seated in a window alcove reading the journals of her great grandmother's adventures and romance as she traveled with her husband in search of rare artifacts, often mysterious and mystical. To everyone, Audrey appears unattainable, especially to one of the financial consultants under her supervision, who considers himself cursed, because his name is William Darcy, from a long line of Darcys that had nothing whatsoever to do with Jane Austen's Mr. Darcy. What's worse, he resembles to a tee, the popular actor who portrayed the character in the movie based on Austen's novel. Inevitably, most women who date him, insist on comparing him with the character, to their eventual disillusionment. He doesn't have an English accent, born and bred in a small hamlet on Long Island, New York, a nice town with trees and malls, buses and trains and taxicabs. He isn't as tall or as confident, or as proud of bearing, and not one hundredth of a percent as rich as the fictional Fitzwilliam Darcy. One disappointed woman actually told him he had no right facially to resemble Austen's Darcy. She suggested plastic surgery. If only he could find a girl who dislikes Austen's Mr. Darcy. That's as improbable as finding a needle in a haystack. To his edification, he learns that Audrey dislikes the Darcy character, preferring looks akin to Bronte's Edward Fairfax Rochester. Attracted to Audrey, Wil is prepared to go to all lengths, even to growing his hair longer, dyeing it black, wearing elevator shoes to add more height to his 5' 11"e;, and dressing in apparel a mix between respectable 18th century and cool contemporary. He is mortified when he reads the controlled laughter in Audrey's eyes. But surprised, soon after, at her request that he accompany her on an archaeological trip. Her trip has to do with company business and a multi-millionaire's account. Audrey tells Wil that she considers him one of the best and most conscientious worker in the department. He is honored, and sees a glimmer of hope for his chance to win her affections. Excerpt: Wil turned on his back and opened his eyes. He groaned with relief, glad the dream was over and he was awake. He wasn't overly fond of this dream. As a child, the occasional recurring dream terrified him. As a teen, it had made him wonder what was going on in his subconscious. As an adult, it made him speculate. Perhaps he should visit a psychologist. The setting wasn't always the same, but it evoked the same feelings; not fear any longer, yet strange. He didn't actually see himself, but he felt the tentacles, and he knew they were his arms and legs. That was the weird part of the dream. The part that he didn't mind at all was the woman who stood on the dais. Her flowing garment was sheer and spun from silk, and she wore a gold ankh pendant across her chest and a golden diadem with an ostrich feather at the front on her straight, black hair. Behind her was a royal throne garbed in red silk. Wil had long since deduced she was an Egyptian Queen from ancient times. She did not appear afraid of his appearance, almost as if she did not see the tentacles, as she smiled at him, admiration and warmth in her onyx gaze. She was as beautiful in form, as were her thoughts and her soul, inexplicably clear to him. And he, as the creature, loved her. The dream puzzling as ever, Wil ran a nervous hand through his darkened hair. What was his subconscious trying to tell him? He took a deep breath and climbed out of bed. A steaming cup of coffee sweetened with cream and sugar, followed by a nutritious breakfast, would help him shake off the dream's effects. Audrey is the great granddaughter of Elizabeth Grace whose story is told in the author's novellas and novel, The Adventures of Grace Quinlan and Lord William Hayden.

Paula Freda, writing as Marianne Dora Rose, presents a Contemporary, Clean and Wholesome, Inspirational Suspense Romance Trilogy for Hearts of All Ages.     MaryBeth Cecila lacked no end of beaus vying for her affections, both at the orphanage in which she was raised, and in the world in which she later took her place. Paula Freda, writing as Marianne Dora Rose, presents a Contemporary, Clean and Wholesome, Inspirational Suspense Romance for Hearts of All Ages.     By the time she had graduated college, with the realization that the perfection she sought in a prospective husband, was unrealistic and impossible, she'd whittled her choices to four young men. Trouble was, the choosing; especially, Cole, Jasper, Brian, and her best friend, Max, a fellow orphan the Sisters had named Expeditus (nicknamed Max), after a Roman centurion Christian martyr, patron of impossible requests, per the note pinned to the baby's onesie, the eve the Sisters had retrieved him from the baby hatch at their convent, three days prior to MaryBeth, herself.

Coincidences, imagination working overtime, or answer to her prayers to Saints Priscilla and Aquila, patron saints of those seeking a good marriage to a good man, a soulmate to emulate the love and commitment her parents share. Paula Freda writing as Marianne Dora Rose presents "e;Love's Ultimate Gift,"e; a clean and wholesome Christian romance for hearts of all ages. Do you believe in miracles? ...Excerpt:  "e;As was her custom at the end of the last Mass on Sunday afternoons, Priscilla waited for the congregation to exit, and the sacristan to dim the lights, leaving only the soft pale rays of sunlight filtering through the glass-stained windows, transforming the Church proper into a haven of quiet calm and peace. Priscilla needed that calm and peace to stand before the icon of her patron saint to unburden her heart's longings and desires.It was rare not to find a few supplicants like herself, praying before the ornately framed painting of the Byzantine icon of Saint Prisca and Saint Aquila, that hung on the side wall a little ways from the Altar. Saints Prisca and her husband Aquila were known as the Patron Saints of a Good Marriage both for young and old. They were also known as Patron Saints of Missionaries spreading the word of the Lord throughout the world.Priscilla, Prisca in ancient Latin, meant venerable. Aquila, in Greek, Roman, and Hebrew, stood for eagle, keen-eyed, steadfast. Twenty-six-year-old Priscilla had been praying to the saintly couple since her early teens.She had first heard of the saintly couple in a sermon at Sunday Mass. Prisca and Aquila, noted for their deep love for each other, were Christian converts, and close friends of the Lord's apostle, Saint Paul. Several times Paul cited in the Bible their friendship and their sheltering him from persecution, along with their accompanying him on his missionary work to spread Jesus's teachings. Priscilla felt a kinship to the saintly couple.Blessed with parents deeply in love, committed to the Good Lord and to each other, and to her, she treasured that love and commitment, especially since graduating college and moving on her own, learning to miss her parents now that seeing them daily was a thing of the past. Gentle, kind, loving parents, often over-protective. The once-teenager yearning for adulthood and leaving home to live free on her own, near her job as a veterinarian assistant, now missed not seeing Mom and Dad daily, and looked forward to weekly visits with them.It was no surprise to her that her fondest wish was to find a good man, a soul mate, to emulate the love and commitment she had watched her parents share through good times and bad, through healthy times, and times of illness, through joyous and sorrowful times..."e; Excerpt 2: Engrossed in her prayer, Priscilla barely noticed a ray of sunshine filtering through the glass-stained window on the opposite of the church proper portraying the images of Jesus and Mary, one hand placed against their hearts, and the other extended with welcome and love, The sun ray bathed her and the portrait of the icon in a spectrum of red, yellows and blues. But a young man entering the quiet church and choosing a pew in the back to kneel and pray, noticed. Mesmerized, he thought, was it a miracle? Then he suppressed a chuckle. He believed in miracles, but he was also a logical man, not one to jump to conclusions or plays of the imagination. Sunrays filtering through glass-stained windows were a common occurrence at this time of the afternoon in the dimmed lighting in a church this size and so beautifully adorned. Just a soave coincidence in the peace and quiet, and candlelit interior. Just a coincidence that the sun ray cascaded and enveloped the portrait and the woman gazing up in prayer at the portrait.

Eight years ago Doreen Carlson married Esteban Pereira, the owner of a nightclub and head of the distinguished and honorable Pereira family whose Spanish ancestors date back centuries. From the moment she walked into his nightclub during a vacation in Panama and caught his attention, Esteban relentlessly courted her. Her formal upbringing had not prepared her for his irresistible Latin charm, or his magnetism and suave manner. Doreen, wealthy and refined, herself hailing from a distinguished family in the Hudson River Valley in New York State, succumbed to his charms. They married and for a short time she was ecstatically happy, but their efforts to conceive children met with failure and she can no longer abide living in an old custom world environment. She is determined to leave Esteban and return to the States.      Esteban's villa on his huge and elegant estate also houses his younger twin siblings, Ramon and Rosaria, and his grandmother, an honorable matron steeped in Old World traditions. Doreen feels she is suffocating. Although she is free to come and go as she pleases within Panama City, Esteban will not allow her to work, nor is she permitted to visit his club. He uses the excuse that attendance at the club does not befit a Pereira spouse, but Doreen cannot see the sense of his reasoning and suspects there is a darker reason. When she attempts to return to the States, Esteban stops her, confiscating her passport and the keys to her car. Esteban deeply loves Doreen and he has no intention of letting her go. He wants desperately to solve their problems and rekindle the happiness they originally shared, but he does not believe that her returning to the States is the answer.     Matters worsen when Doreen defies Esteban and visits the club and meets Elena, the stripper who nightly performs at his nightclub. Very soon Doreen's suspicions come close to confirmation that Elena is Esteban's mistress....

Anthology of clean and wholesome Christian romances by Paula Freda aka Marianne Dora Rose: The Sketchbook (A novella of Adventure and Romance in the Brazilian jungle) Heartsongs (A romantic fantasy novella with a touch of the paranormal)The Heart Calleth (A novella with drama, romance, adventure, and a touch of science fiction) Three Inspirational Romances: A Valentine Bouquet. The Scent of Camellias, The Lonely Heart. Enjoy!

The Guide Manual warned James Hennessey adamantly never to associate on an intimate basis with any passenger, female or male. He'd heeded that sound advice for the ten years of his employment, and was well content to heed it for the next ten years. He avoided the coy signals that Carole Santini and Ira Krausner sent him. As for Mary Juliette, her glances did not invite. She was curious about him, but not brazen or flirtatious. It felt more as though she were trying to make up her mind about him. Perhaps she realized that her chances of capturing his interest were slim. She was plain. She wore some makeup, her dark brown hair was well styled in a page, but she would never be glamorous. And he had to admit he liked "e;glamorous."e; And "e;glamorous"e; often responded; though what they saw in him, he had not the slightest idea. Yes, he was easy on the eyes, a tall, broad-chested man, with a casual air that matched his safari poplin shirt, pants, and wide-brimmed hat. He kept himself in good shape, worked out, watched what he ate. He had a fair amount of intelligence, and enough wit to keep a conversation going. Outside of that, he was just another guy. Yet three quarters of the women who had ridden this motor coach in the past ten years, had tried to flirt with him. He doubted he need worry with Mary Juliette. Plain and reserved, and as far as he could tell thus far, unaffected. He could trust this one for some light conversation.Mary Juliette could hardly contain her excitement. They were entering the South American jungle. She was finally going to see it and be able to sketch it first hand. And when she returned to her favorite hill overlooking her hometown, she would breathe life into her sketches by transferring them to canvas in vivid oil colors. This particular tour avoided the tourist traps and touched upon the real Amazon, the parts of the country indigenous to the giant slithering anacondas, and the large butterflies whose colorful wings were like oriental fans; the lush vegetation of the Amazon Basin – the laurels, the mimosas, the papaya trees; the native among his village of thatched huts, as he fished and hunted, while his woman, nursing their child at her breast, wove cloth for their garments in colorful, intricate patterns. MJ flipped through the used pages of her sketchbook, pausing at the last image she had drawn, her conception of "e;Mr. Right,"e; her "e;Mr. Right."e; She looked closer at the sketch and her mouth fell open. The drawing bore a striking resemblance to Hennessey. It was Hennessey. Was Hennessey "e;Mr. Right?"e;No one except the mulatto guard, Connors, noticed the figure perched in a tree, holding a long firearm ready and aimed directly at them. "e;Deus—Nao!"e; Connors uttered, as the dissatisfied Mestizo opened fire on the motor coach and its occupants. Enrique never knew what hit him. He slumped forward over the steering wheel. Connors shouted as he dove to his knees and made a grab for the steering wheel, ducking as another volley of bullets hit the windshield and shattered the glass into a frosty kaleidoscope of blues and whites. He managed to turn the wheel trapped under Enrique's bleeding chest, and steer the bus away from the river and its hungry inhabitants. More bullets riddled the metal monster on wheels as it veered and careened off the road, and crashed into a clump of gnarled vines and close-knit trees. Hennessey crawled down the center of the bus, checking on the passengers. From the corner of his eye he saw Mary Juliette sliding out from under her seat into the aisle. "e;Where do you think you're going? Get back under!"e; he ordered grimly. Big dark brown eyes stared defiantly back at him.  In earnest, Hennessey told her, "e;Go ahead, stand up, give those hell hounds a clear target,"e;....