Virginia Young - South Shore Writer
A Bit from a Blog I Had...
Learn more about what has been published to date...
|Posted by Virginia Young on July 24, 2013 at 9:55 PM||comments (3653)|
Out of the Blue: A romance set in Massachusetts
On Thanksgiving Eve, beautiful Samantha Elwyn meets the man of her dreams in Plymouth. Will she realize what she’s found before she loses him forever?
I Call Your Name is a romantic suspense set on Martha's Vineyard. Bree often wears the shirt of the boy she loved as a teen. After his mother's murder, he disappears. Bree tries to forget the disturbing events as she lives reclusively in her deceased aunt's former bed and breakfast; then a stranger knocks on her door and asks to live there while he writes a book concerning the mystery.
NOCTURNAL, published by Double Dragon in Canada, is a young adult novel. No vampires, but an owl who communicates with a teen girl who sleep-walks into the woods behind her family home. Together, they explore and solve a mysterious problem in the abandoned house next door. They love one another as kin.
The Birthday Gift: A romance set in Connecticut
When Cole turns five, he falls in love with three day old Jerica – the girl next door. Reunited twenty-two years later, will he let her know that he has again fallen in love with her? And, if he does, will Jerica feel the same about him?
Sleepless Tides: A romance set in Maine
Lindsay moves to Maine where she is introduced to the arrogant and handsome Evan. Can she manage to keep her feelings for him in check while she learns who she really is on her own?
Winter Waltz: A romance set in Vermont
Spending the holidays in Vermont is an adjustment for Autumn Sterling. Not only is she is confined to a wheelchair while recovering from a recent accident, but she also has the challenge of resisting falling in love with the resort’s alluring owner.
A Family of Strangers: A romantic suspense
Who am I? Where am I? Why am I here? The answers are disconcerting. She does not feel, believe, or understand what they say. But if not who they claim she is, who is she?
By a Thread: A contemporary novel set in a closed community
The community was founded on equality, but beautiful young Judith was frustrated with some of their rules. She learned to tolerate most of them. But then one day she was faced with a decision no mother should ever have to make.
Where Seagulls Sleep is a romantic suspense set on the rocky coast of Rhode Island. Catherine's father had a death-bed confession; Catherine is not an only child, she has a young sister. That sister is missing, running from the police and a pair of threatening men. While renting a beachside cottage near the area her sister is rumored to spend time, Catherine meets a mysterious man in black. Should she trust him?
FIND ME: A collection of short stories
With an emphasis on relationships, this cluster of stories touches every aspect of life. As in Virginia's novels, people blending together is the significant and memorable part of this over-the-years collection.
Annasheeva. The theme for this novel has been on my mind for more than twenty years. It is the story of a famous New York City ballerina who finds herself a widow at forty-six. After her husband's death, she moves to the southern shores of Massachusetts where she buys a small cottage and inherits the home's cat. Three years later, she is walking on the beach, soothing aching feet and ankles in the surf, when she meets a young man seventeen years her junior. She resists, he persists. This is a story of intensely complicated love and betrayal.
|Posted by Virginia Young on January 29, 2013 at 2:20 PM||comments (9990)|
(This short story just placed in The Soul Making Keats Literary Competition. I hope that you enjoy it!)
The heavy aroma of roasted garlic, sweet red peppers, the mingling of wine and beer, swirled with out-of-sync loud voices. All emphasized her need to escape that place, if only for a breath of fresh air. Anxiously lacing her fingers together, she looked around at the varying hues of orange, red and gold decor, a smoky mist drifting into the room from the famed open-hearth kitchen of their once favorite restaurant. Where was he anyway? How like him to avoid confrontation. How like him to put her importance for punctuality in a lesser space.
She stood and moved her chair toward the table, betting the raucous atmosphere in that room that he simply wouldn’t show. Gathering her purse to her shoulder, she went out through French doors to a bricked patio and the chilled air of an autumn night.
A man stood in the corner near a perfectly shaped spruce, the red glow from his cigarette offering the look of a miniature lantern. He glanced her way and nodded, then seeming to note her intrusion, he dropped the smoke and ground it into the brick with his shiny boot before leaving.
She shivered with the uncertainty of her future. They’d been together for three years. Good thing there had been no marriage, maybe. Or maybe there would have been a stronger commitment to that written document so easily dismissed when happily choosing a russet colored sofa, apricot draperies, and accessories in brilliant shades of red and orange.
He wasn’t coming, she was sure.
She glanced at the flattened white remains of the man’s cigarette, then walked to the patio’s edge where thick walls of waist high boxwood and holly grew, concealing a slight slope to the city sidewalk below, and the lights. They seemed alive, those lights, down there, among people holding hands who wanted to be together.
She turned around and glanced toward the French doors and her table, where she’d purposely left her tangerine silk scarf, a long ago gift from him. No one else would take her place with that vivid marker and a half filled glass of chardonnay. And he’d see that scarf and know where to find her, if he came at all.
She turned again, noticing the people below on the sidewalk, bodies close enough to feel the heat from one another. Her chest, her legs, her shoulders ached for that agreed familiarity.
She blinked back a few tears. She could turn and walk through those doors one last time. She could retrieve the scarf then walk to her car and drive home. Home? Without him? Or she could push her way through the thick foliage and try not to stumble toward the sidewalk below in her spindly high heels.
With a deep breath, she stepped toward the boxwood. She did not turn around to see his lanky form standing at the table, the tangerine scarf draped in his hands.