Ruth Ann Nordin's Blog, page 86

For This Monday: Pictures from RT Booklovers Convention and the Value of Your Support and Encouragement

Instead of posting a sample from a book or an inspiration for the book, I figure I better start posting some pictures from the RT Booklovers Convention.

Today I’m posting pictures of two wonderful ladies I got the honor of meeting: Sarah and Leila.  I’m very glad I met you two.  :-)  Thanks for taking the time to say hi.  It means the world to me.

Sarah and Leila

It’s so exciting for the author when she gets a chance to meet someone who reads and enjoys her books.  Sometimes writing can seem like a lonely venture.  While authors love to tell their tales and live vicariously through their characters, we do it alone.  Don’t get me wrong.  We tend to be introverts and we love working alone (at least I do).  We are fortunate to live in a time when we can see our stories in book and ebook form without the assistance of a publisher.  I self-published so I could hold my book in my hands and have it on my ereader.  It was as simple as that.  Now, at the time my husband was supporting us, so I had the luxury of only writing for pleasure.  These days I’m the one supporting the family, so things have become more business oriented, but I still love what I do and get a thrill every time I get another book done.  I’m very blessed that I get to do what I love.

But there are some downsides, as there is with any job.  One of the major downsides is, ironically, other authors.  Nine out of ten times, it’s another author who gives other authors the most grief.  It was a rude awakening back in 2010 when I discovered this.  I mistakingly believed that authors would all be there to support each other, to offer words of encouragement when things got rough.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  There are some authors who are wonderfully supportive.  It’s very important that authors find other authors who they can form friendships with, and I have some awesome author friends (some of which write books that are very much outside the genre I write in).  The benefit of befriending authors is that you find out you’re not alone when the downside to being a writer rears its ugly head.  It’s like with any job.  If you can find a good network of support, it helps you get through the tough spots a lot better.

Ruth and Sarah

That all being said, I think readers who take the time to say a kind word are the best thing there is to being a writer.  This is a job that isn’t for the faint of heart.  Authors have to deal with hate email, angry comments, and reviews by people who were very upset with their books.  Some of us have even been stalked and harassed (in one form or another).  Most of the time, the people behind these attacks are other authors.  I’d say 90% of the time, it’s other authors.  It can be wearing on an author who is often stuck alone writing their stories.  When one of their readers takes the time to lend a kind word, it’s usually something that comes just at the right time.

I don’t know how it works, but at the right time, someone will send me a message or make a comment that assures me I’m on the right track, that what I’m doing is what God wants me to do, that I am following His leading.  The comment or message will be worded in such a way it answers the question I have.  This doesn’t just stem from the whole “should I include sex in my books” debate.  It can be anything from a certain character, plot point, book, the way I write…  There are many things that pop up.

Leila and Ruth

It’s hard to adequately convey how thankful I am and how much it means to me when you take the time to say something nice to me about my books.  All I can usually think of to say is “thank you” and “I appreciate the kind words”, but if you could feel what was in my heart when I say those things, you’d understand how deeply I am touched and honored by your kindness.  I end up keeping the words of support and encouragement you’ve sent and printing them out to keep for when I start to get discouraged.  It reminds me there is a purpose and a reason to keep going.  It reminds me that even though I spend most of my time alone (or with kids who expect me to intervene when they fight), I’m still connecting with other people.  I won’t say I’m a huge social butterfly because I’m not.  I’m shy and awkward in social situations.

Though I write books, I don’t often have the words to express what’s deep in my heart in personal correspondence.  So please understand that when I say something as simple as “thank you” and “I appreciate the kind words”, I mean so much more than that.

Sunday Story Sample: More From Kent Ashton’s Backstory

Today I’m going post another scene from Kent Ashton’s Backstory.  :-)

“Did you end your courtship with Miss Statesman?”

Kent paused as he cut into his steak, debating whether or not to make eye contact with his father.  Why did his father feel it necessary to ask him such a personal question during dinner?

His mother finished sipping her wine and placed the glass on the table.  “You decided not to marry Ann?”

Kent glanced her way, noting her surprise.  His father hadn’t told her about anything about Rebecca?  He turned his gaze to his father who wiped his mouth with a napkin before setting it back in his lap.

“Kent is going to ask Mister Johnson if he can court Rebecca.  He plans to do that tomorrow.” His father looked at him.  “Don’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” Kent quietly replied.

“What caused this change of heart?” his mother asked.

Not sure what to say, Kent turned his attention back to his father who waved his hand.  “Love,” his father told her.  “As simple as it is, love has changed his mind.  He has decided he’d rather marry Rebecca.  A fine choice, if I say so myself.”

She shrugged and poked her potato with a fork.  “Ann or Rebecca, it’s all the same to me.  I suppose the mother is always the last to know these things when she has a son.” She smiled at Kent.  “Rebecca is a fine choice.  Well done, Kent.”

Though he returned her smile, it was hard to eat the rest of his meal.  He would have thought his father would be insisting he marry Rebecca at once considering the circumstances.  He watched as his father continued to eat as if nothing horrible had happened the previous night.  He knew better than to say anything in front of his mother since his father was determined to keep the situation as quiet as possible.  As difficult as it was, he managed to finish the rest of the meal.

But after dinner was over and his father retired to the informal parlor, he followed him, shutting the door for privacy.

“I don’t believe I asked to speak with you,” his father said, reclining in his favorite chair and picking up the newspaper.

“Shouldn’t I be making plans to marry Rebecca as soon as possible?” Kent asked, keeping his voice low.

“That’s not necessary.” He opened the paper and put his feet on the ottoman.  “But you did end your courtship with Ann?”

“Yes.  I did that this morning.”

“Good.  You will go to Mister Johnson tomorrow and ask to court Rebecca.  We’re going to do this the right way.  She deserves to be courted for a year before you marry her.  Now that we’ve secured those investments, we can afford to wait.”

“But aren’t you worried there’ll be a baby?  I don’t want anyone finding out about this.” Most of all, Ann.

His father lowered the paper and sighed.  “You bring up a good point.” He paused then continued, “If it turns out she’s with child, you will marry her and go to New York.  That will protect her virtue.  No one needs to know she conceived before you married.”

“But her parents will know.”

“Kent, you worry for nothing.  The chances of Rebecca getting with child from one incident are so small that you needn’t give it a second thought.”

“But it only takes one time—”

His father groaned and crossed his arms.  “If it turns out she’s with child, we’ll deal with the situation then.  In the meantime, you will ask to court her.”

Knowing his father wouldn’t budge, Kent finally nodded and left the room.

Why Do Authors Deserve to be Paid?

I hesitated to post this since price is a sensitive issue, but once in a while, I do get emails from people who wonder why I ask a price on most of my books.  So I might as well address it here in case others are wondering the same thing, but I’m going to make it a general answer because this applies to every author out there who is trying to earn an income from their work.

So here’s the thing…

Food, shelter, clothes, utilities, etc require money to purchase.

This is something we all have to deal with, whether we are authors or not.  We either have mortgages or rent (unless our house is paid off).  We all need to eat food in order to survive.  We need clothes to wear so we don’t scare the people around us with our naked bodies.  (Okay, maybe some of you look like Barbie dolls when you don’t have clothes on, but I have the frumpy “wow, you can tell she had four kids” type of body.  Believe me, I do everyone a favor by putting on clothes.)  Utilities are a must.  We need heat in the winter.  We need water.  We need electricity (an author can’t write on a computer without electricity in the house), and we need Internet so we can engage in social networking and publish our books.

Everything on the list above requires money.  Because of that, authors need to make money in order to pay for the these things in order to survive.  So when we put a dollar amount on our books, we aren’t being greedy.  We’re trying to pay our bills and eat.

If we don’t make money with our books, then we won’t be able to write.

Even if it’s supplemental income, getting paid allows us the freedom to write in our spare time.  If we have to seek out other jobs, that will take away from our chance to write.  Time is one of those things that’s finite.  I love to write.  I know a lot of other authors who love to write.  But writing without a paycheck won’t enable us to write those books.  Instead, we’ll have to find another way to earn money.

Authors do pay taxes on their income.

I don’t know how many people are aware that authors are required to pay taxes.  I didn’t know this before I started making money off my writing.

Currently, I pay 40% in federal taxes and almost 7% in state taxes.  Other authors might pay more, the same, or less than me depending on their income.  I’m not a tax expert.  I just know that almost half my income is money I never see.  If I work outside the home, I could potentially have more take home money (depending on the job I get) because I’d pay significantly less in taxes, but I love writing books.

I’m willing to pay the taxes in order to do what I love most.  But in order to do what I love most, I need to make money.  Other authors I know feel the same way.  They write because they love it.

***

The stuff I’ve listed above applies to every author, not just me.  I realize this is an issue that makes some people nervous, but after much debate, I finally decided it was something that needed to be said.  Thanks for reading.

Back From the Convention But My Mind Is Blank (LOL)

Ironically when I came back on Sunday from the convention, I was all pumped up and excited about all the great blog posts I’d write.  At the time I had cleaning to do (especially tons of laundry) and kids to take care of so I didn’t do much more than put up the scene from Kent Ashton’s Backstory which was done ahead of time.  Needless to say, from Monday through today, my mind has been blank on what to write.  This is crazy.  I got a lot of pictures, so it’s not like I don’t have things to post.

But I’m having trouble coming up with what to say about the pictures.   I mean, I don’t mind talking about the basic pictures, but when I post pictures of the people I took, I want to say more than “this is so and so”; I want to do the person justice and talk more about them.

That being the case, I can discuss what I like about conventions/conferences.  The best thing about them is the people you meet.  It’s fun to put names with faces and get a chance to talk to them.  I also like the workshops where I can learn something new.  I am a total nerd.  I love the business side of writing.  So anything educational gets my attention.  This convention had some non-business workshops, some of which I hear a lot of people enjoyed, but my version of fun in college was hanging out in the Commons area with friends instead of partying.  (And I did have fun tutoring a couple of students and studying for a class I really enjoyed.)  Back then I was a square, and I’m still one today.  This convention had a lot of parties, and I didn’t attend a single one.

This convention took place in downtown Kansas City, a place I termed the concrete jungle since it was nothing but buildings.  There were a couple of neat water fountains, but I only got one.

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Fountain in front of “the link” which was a food court that connected up to a couple hotels.

I didn’t get a picture of it, but it snowed while I was there.  Two days before, I was sweating while wearing shorts and a t-shirt, so yeah, this was a major temperature drop.  We’re used to crazy stuff like this in Nebraska (where it can be 70 one day and 30 the next), so it wasn’t a huge surprise, though I did have the urge to put up a Christmas tree.

There was this walkway that ran over the street which let you walk from the hotel to a place where you could eat and shop.

This (to me) is a concrete jungle. It was one building after another.

There were a couple trees, but it was nothing like the open landscape I’m used to.  But it’s not too much unlike downtown Omaha so it wasn’t like a major culture shock or anything.  I had the impression, though, that it was further out of town when I looked at the hotel’s website.  It just goes to show that the perception of something can be different than what it’s really like in person.

That was all the pictures I took of things.  There were more things I could have taken pictures of, but they wouldn’t have fit this blog.

The rest of the pictures were of people I met, and I plan to post those in the upcoming weeks.  Hopefully, I’ll feel more focused by the end of this week.  My mind is still switching to my daily routine.  When I was at the convention, I went into left brain mode. Now that I’m back home, I need to get back into the right brain side which is the creative part.  Getting back into the writing routine is like pulling teeth, which is why I hate to lose momentum when I get it going.  But at the end of the day, it was worth it because I got to meet a lot of awesome people.

 

 

 

Inspiration for the Book: The Scene Where Kent Ashton Ends His Courtship With Ann Statesman

For this Monday’s “Inspiration for the Book” post, I thought I’d compare the same scene from different points of view.  Since Falling In Love With Her Husband has been out for a few years, I’d like to post the scene from Ann’s point of view first.

Ann’s point of view is given in first person.

“Miss Ann, you have a caller,” Ginny announced.

I turned from my bedroom mirror in anticipation.

Ginny giggled.

“Do I look alright?” I asked her.  I wore a dark blue satin dress.  He liked the color blue the best.

“You look as beautiful as usual.  Come along.  It wouldn’t be right to keep him waiting.”

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.  When I entered the parlor, my heart raced with excitement.  He looked to be larger than life with his broad shoulders and tall frame.  “Good afternoon, Kent,” I greeted warmly as I approached him.  “It’s good to see you.  Will you sit down?”

“No thank you, Miss Ann.”

Surprised by his formality, I stood awkwardly.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ginny shrug, just as bewildered as I was.  I waited for him to speak but he refused to look at me.  I knew something was wrong, so I took great care in asking my question.  “Did you have a bad day?”

“No.  I…I have to tell you something,” he mumbled, staring at the lace curtains on the other side of the room.

I was afraid of what he had to say, so I didn’t press him to continue.

He sighed loudly.  “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

I remained silent.  Part of me needed to know while another part wished to remain ignorant.  At last, I asked, “Is someone in your family ill?”

“No, nothing like that.”

By now, I was squirming.  When I could not stand the awful silence anymore, I demanded, “What is it?”

“I cannot call on you again.”

“What?” I dumbly asked.

“I love Rebecca Johnson, and I intend to marry her.”

“How…When…?” I couldn’t manage to finish my question.

“It just happened.  I didn’t plan it.  I don’t think anyone can plan things like this,” he hastily explained.

Before I could reply, he walked to the front door.  “I hope there won’t be any hard feelings between us.  I’ll see you in church tomorrow.  Good-bye, Miss Statesman.”

And just like that he was out of my house and out of my life.  I didn’t know how long I sat in the chair, staring blankly at the wall in front of me.  All I kept wondering was how he could claim to love me one day and claim to love someone else the next.  Ginny sat by me.  I took small comfort in her presence.  I appreciated the fact that I didn’t have to talk to her.  I wished to be alone with my thoughts for awhile.

*****

Now that we’ve seen Ann’s view of things, here’s Kent’s.  I found doing it from his point of view made the whole scene appear different, which reminds me that we can look at the same event but it’s how we perceive that event that makes all the difference.  :D  This was a lot of fun to see that more was going on than Ann realized.

Kent’s point of view is given in third person.

Kent took a deep breath to steel his resolve before he knocked on the door.  He had to do this.  It was no longer a question of what he wanted to do.  It was now a matter of doing the right thing.  If he could take back the previous night, he’d do it in a heartbeat.  But he couldn’t, and no amount of wishing he could turn back the clock would make it so.  It was his sin to bear, and he’d bear it for the rest of his life.  Resigned to his fate, he knocked on the Statesmans’ front door again.

One of Ann’s servants answered the door and he asked to see her, hoping her father wasn’t there.  He’d already made enough of a mess without having to deal with her father once more.  The man should be content because after today, he would win.  Kent would be out of Ann’s life.  Swallowing back some tears, he followed her servant into the parlor and waited for her.

He scanned the parlor, recalling the times he’d come over to show her pictures or talk about New York.  They’d made plans in this room, plans for the future that would no longer come true.  Letting out a heavy sigh, he removed his hat.  He felt as if he were at a funeral and in some ways, he was.  He’d come to end the best thing that ever happened to him.

One of Ann’s female servants came into the parlor, followed by Ann, and it took all of his willpower not to get on his knees and beg her forgiveness.  This was going to hurt her, something he once swore he’d never do.

“Good afternoon, Kent,” she greeted, her smile lighting up her face.  “It’s good to see you.  Will you sit down?”

“No thank you, Miss Ann,” he replied then, in shame, he lowered his gaze.

She remained standing, shifting uneasily from one foot to another, and after a long moment, she asked, “Did you have a bad day?”

“No.  I…I have to tell you something.” He took another deep breath, doing his best to ignore the way the clock ticked, ever reminding him he’d never get to be in her parlor again.  “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

“Is someone in your family ill?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“What is it?”

He had to do this.  There was no choice.  He gripped his hat and forced out, “I cannot call on you again.”

“What?” she asked, her jaw dropped in shock.

“I love Rebecca Johnson,” he quickly explained, hoping she didn’t notice the way he winced, “and I intend to marry her.”

“How…  When…?”

“It just happened.  I didn’t plan it.  I don’t think anyone can plan things like this.”

If only he hadn’t drank alcohol, then this wouldn’t be happening.  But wishing it was no use.  Before he could break down and beg her forgiveness for how things turned out, he headed for the front door.  His father and Rebecca had agreed that no one—not even her parents—would know about him being in bed with her, and that meant he couldn’t tell anyone, not even Ann.  But if Ann knew, she’d lose all respect for him, and then she’d never love him.  That would be worse.  Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted Ann to always love him, even if he couldn’t be with her.

Clearing his throat, he forced out, “I hope there won’t be any hard feelings between us.  I’ll see you in church tomorrow.  Good-bye, Miss Statesman.”

He noted the way she winced and gritted his teeth as he opened the door and left her house.  Once he made it down the steps of her porch, he closed his eyes and steadied his nerves.  It wouldn’t do to cry.  Men didn’t cry, at least not in front of onlookers.  When he could trust himself, he opened his eyes and proceeded down the sidewalk, putting one step forward, resigned to the future that loomed ahead of him.

Sunday Story Sample: Kent Ashton’s Backstory

I’m back from the RT Booklovers Convention, and it was a lot of fun!  I got the privilege to meet some awesome authors and ladies who love reading romances.  Over the next week or two, I’ll post pictures and talk about the great people I got to meet.  It was very exciting.  :-)

Since today is Sunday, I wanted to post a sample of one of my stories, and I’m choosing to do another scene from Kent Ashton’s Backstory.

“What is going on here?”

Kent bolted up, unaware of where he was or how he got there.  All he could see was light as his father yelled in outrage.  His head throbbed with piercing pain, and he thought he might vomit so he settled back onto the bed.  A bed?  Gulping back the bile in his throat, he opened his eyes and blinked back the blurry objects around him.

Strong hands clasped his shoulders and pulled him back into a sitting position.  “Do you realize what you’ve done?  Do you think Mister and Missus Johnson will be happy when they hear about this?”

The room swam around Kent, making him grab his head and groan.

“I…  I…” Rebecca stammered.

Kent forced his eyes open and stared dumbly at Rebecca who was next to him, holding a blanket up to her chin, tears in her eyes, her lower lip trembling.  His gaze went to himself.  The blanket was draped over his waist, but he didn’t need to look under the blanket to know he was naked.  And they were both in his bed.  His startled gaze returned to his father whose face was bright red, his nostrils flaring with anger.

“This is inexcusable,” his father finally said, rage simmering just beneath the surface.  “Thank goodness your mother stopped by at a friend’s so she didn’t have to see this.  It’s scandalous.  Unbelievably scandalous!”

“I-I’m sorry.” Kent swallowed.  His throat felt dry.  He could barely form the words to speak, but even so, any apology would have been hollow.  The last thing he remembered was helping Rebecca to her feet in the parlor.  He’d meant to see her to the door but then…  Everything was blank.  Was this was happened when a gentleman got drunk?  He acted abhorrently then forgot all about it?  Glancing at Rebecca who was crying, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to make things right,” his father barked, bringing his attention back to him.  “You’re going to marry her.”

Without thinking, he nodded.  “Of course.  Yes,” he glanced at her again and hoped to reassure her that he’d treat her honorably from this point forward, “I’ll marry you.  And I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

He quickly looked away from her.  She had to hate him for what he did.  She’d been no match for him.  He didn’t even want to think about it.  His stomach churned and he thought he’d vomit for sure, but somehow he managed to keep it down.

His father walked to the other side of the bed and wrapped another blanket around Rebecca’s shoulders.  “We are terribly sorry, my dear.  You may dress behind the dressing screen.  I’ll make sure my son doesn’t do anything else inappropriate.”

Kent shut his eyes, unable to bear the weight of his shame.  Of all the things he might have done, he never thought he’d do anything like this.  Never again.  He’d never drink alcohol ever again.  It caused nothing but grief and while he would willingly do the right thing, it had cost him what he loved most: Ann.

 

 

The WordPress Family Award

Joleene Naylor has nominated me for the WordPress Family Award.  Thanks, Joleene!  :D

Rules:

Display the award logo on your blog.
Link back to the person who nominated you.
Nominate 10 others you see as having an impact on your WordPress experience and family.
Let your 10 Family members know you have awarded them.
That is it. Just please pick 10 people that have taken you as  a friend, and spread the love.

Well, I started this blog on Thanksgiving Day back in 2010 because I needed a blog that was separate from the one I co-administer with Stephannie Beman (and co-author with Joleene Naylor and Janet Syas Nitsick) dedicated to supporting other self-published authors.  Now, that blog was started back in January 2010, so it’s older than this one.

So my real introduction to WordPress stemmed to January 2010.  I was on Blogger at the time, and Stephannie told me that WordPress more user friendly and suggested we combine forces to create a blog dedicated to sharing our research and experience in self-publishing.  We asked Joleene if she’d like to join, and she did.  From there we had a couple of authors who contributed on a regular basis but then got too busy to stay on.  Today Janet is the other author who contributes to the blog.

I met Stephannie back in 2008 on LiveJournal.  I got into LiveJournal because of Melanie Nilles.  Melanie also introduced me to MySpace which is where I met Joleene (and I don’t remember when I met Joleene or even how).  I remember Stephannie was the one who found me on LiveJournal.  (I met Melanie in college; we were suite mates in the same dorm.)

So what I’ve learned along the way is that friendships are developed slowly and usually in places you least expect it.  I’ve met a lot of people through WordPress (and in other avenues) through the years, but in the WordPress world, I’d say Stephannie Beman, Joleene Naylor, Lauralynn Elliot, and Rose Gordon stand out as the ones I’ve had a “WordPress” relationship with.  Lauralynn, Rose, and I met through the self-published author’s WordPress blog.  I know I met Lauralynn before Rose (so maybe in 2010?).  Correct me if I’m wrong on any of this, Lauralynn.   I met Rose in 2011.  I remember when I met her because I picked up one of her books before I realized she wrote it, and it was a new release at the time (so all I have to do is check the date on that book to remember).

Now, I didn’t meet one author in particular through WordPress, and honestly, I don’t remember how long I’ve known her, but she does have a WordPress blog so I’ll mention her along with the other authors who’ve made my WordPress experience a fun one.  Her name is Paula Freda.  I know we met through my website contact form, but I don’t remember when I met her.  I want to say 2009, but I’m not definite on that.

Janet is my author friend in real life (we met back in 2008 and live in the same small town).  Melanie and I go further back to 1994 in college.  I guess if anyone should take credit to where I am today, it would be Melanie because she inspired me to go beyond simply writing stories in my notebook.  Because of her, I discovered the wonderful world of self-publishing.

So another lesson I’ve learned is that one thing leads to another, and you can never tell what steps you’re taking today or who you’re meeting today who will lead you down a path full of amazing rewards.  The best things in life often come in the simple and small things we can take for granted.

With the exception of Joleene who nominated me for this award, I’m going to pass along the award to the above people I mentioned (in alphabetical order):

1.  Stephannie Beman

2.  Lauralynn Elliot

3.  Dorothy Paula Freda

4. Rose Gordon

5.  Melanie Nilles

6.  Janet Syas Nitsick

(6 out of 10 isn’t too bad, right?)  :D

Updates on What I’m Doing

His Abducted Bride

At the moment, I’m on Chapter 15.  I had to go back and fill in a scene and swap another one, but everything is right on track.  Sandy spends 95% of this book in the fantasy world she created, so you won’t see much of her friend Caitlyn (from Suddenly a Bride) and I don’t know if Lexie fits in this story at all.  Sandy is Caitlyn’s friend, not Lexie’s.  Lexie will most likely show up in Blake’s book.  (Blake is Caitlyn and Lexie’s brother.)  But Blake won’t be part of the Across the Stars Series.  He’ll be in the Florida Contemporary Romance Series.  Substitute Bride is the first book in the Florida series.  I have not scheduled Blake’s book yet so I have no idea when I’ll write it.

I expect His Abducted Bride to finish up the Across the Stars Series.

His Reluctant Lady

I’m on Chapter 11 of this book, though I have written two scenes that come later in the story because those scenes kept me awake at night.  LOL  When a scene bugs me enough, I break down and write it.

Since this book has Claire and Nate (from The Earl’s Inconvenient Wife) and Ethan and Catherine (from A Most Unsuitable Earl) in it, I thought I’d throw in one or two scenes that give a glimpse into what these characters are doing now.  On the time line, His Reluctant Lady starts at the last 1/4th of A Most Unsuitable Earl, so Catherine and Ethan haven’t had their child yet.  I figure someone is bound to wonder why I don’t mention their child when I mention Claire and Nate’s.  Well, the reason is because Catherine is still pregnant.

For fun, I’m adding a scene with Ethan and Catherine that is really a follow-up from A Most Unsuitable Earl because there was one issue I had left unresolved.  I’m not telling what it is (some of you will probably guess), but I’d rather wait until the book is out so you can find out what it is.

As a side note, I got another Regency story idea while writing this book.  I mentioned a wager that two earls are making for a lady, and Agatha (heroine in His Reluctant Lady) exposes it in the Tittletattle.  This has a few consequences, one of which will be the focus in the book I’ll write featuring the two earls and the lady in question.  I might end up writing that book instead of Just Good Friends.  I want to write Perry’s story in The Earl’s Scandalous Wife, Boaz’s Wager, and Patty’s Gamble, so I only have a slot for one more book this year to work on and I think the earls with their wager will be it.

Kent Ashton’s Backstory

This is going to be a novella.  It was supposed to be a short story.  Then it was bumped to a novellette.  Now it’s moving to a novella.  I’m in Chapter 7, and I figure I probably just made it past the halfway point.

Just so everyone is clear on what this is, it is a prequel to Lassoing Her Groom.  I’ll make that clear in the description when I publish it.  I realize some people will assume this is a romance, and while it has a romance in it, it is one in which the hero does not get the girl.  So it’s a sad ending.  Ann, after all, ended up with Todd in Falling In Love With Her Husband, so she can’t end up with Kent.  There’s also a surprising twist with Rebecca.  For a moment, I thought I’d end up in trouble with her since she let me know that she’s not the villain I expected her to be.  It’s not easy when the characters end up changing on me.  But she gave me a nice “out” so I can proceed with making Kent the hero in Lassoing Her Groom.  (For a moment, I thought Kent really would end up with Rebecca, but as it turns out, this won’t be the case.  *big sigh of relief* I’m already 22,000 words into Lassoing Her Groom and don’t want to lose that story.  LOL)

Lassoing Her Groom

Currently, I am at Chapter 8, though I have written about two chapters’ worth of future scenes.  (So this book is really 10 chapters completed.)

I have to say that Rose Larson is turning out to be a very persistent heroine.  No matter how much Kent does to push her away, she isn’t backing down.  She has it set in her mind that she and Kent will end up together (and she’s right), and nothing anyone says or does is changing that.  I’m not exactly sure how she convinces Kent they’re meant for each other, but since I already have a scene in mind where he proposes, I have to trust these characters to get me to that proposal.  LOL

A lot of writing depends on trusting the characters to lead me to the happy ending.  I know they will get me there, but I can’t help but wonder how sometimes.

Kent Ashton’s Backstory (Another Scene)

For this Monday’s Inspiration For the Book post, I thought I’d put up another scene for Kent Ashton’s Backstory.

This was the scene I had in mind when I started this novella.  :-)

That evening as Kent’s parents headed out of the house, his father knocked on Kent’s open bedroom door.  Kent glanced from where he sat by the window, trying to lose himself in the book he was reading.

Reluctant, he focused on his father.  “What?”

“Your mother and I are going to the opera.  We let the servants have a night off.  Mr. Johnson will be here soon to get the book I borrowed.  Make sure you’re waiting in the parlor so you hear him when he knocks.”

“Alright.”

It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.  As much as he tried to forget the miserable day he was having, he kept rereading the same passages in the book because he couldn’t focus on it.  He tossed the book aside, rose form his chair and followed his father to the parlor.

“Your mother and I will be home in a couple hours.” His father set the book on the table in front of the couch.  “This is the book you’ll give Mr. Johnson.”

Kent nodded and plopped on the couch.  After his parents left, he kicked off his shoes and settled onto his back.  He stared at the ceiling for a long time, aware of how quiet it was when all he could hear the ticking of the clock in the corner of the room.  He took a deep breath, blinking back his tears.

His gaze went to the liquor cabinet.

Drinking wine at dinner was no longer as common as it’d once been since his father lost most of his money in a poor investment, but they still had some on hand for special occasions.  Granted, this wasn’t a special occasion, but he’d heard alcohol could dull any man’s pain.  And he wanted nothing more than to be numb, even if it was for one night.

He glanced at the clock.  Mr. Johnson hadn’t shown up yet, but since he’d be coming by soon, a little wine wouldn’t hurt.  Then after Mr. Johnson left, he could drink more and go to bed.  He’d find another bottle to replace the one his parents bought and no one would be the wiser.

His plan in place, he went to the cabinet and selected one of the bottles toward the back.  Once he was settled back on the couch, he started drinking it.  He sipped it at first, mindful to listen for Mr. Johnson’s arrival but the clock ticked on and he sipped more and more.

By the time the knock on the door finally came, he felt lightheaded.  He wasn’t sure if Mr. Johnson would realize he’d been drinking, but at this point, he didn’t care.  His life had been singlehandedly destroyed because a stranger stuck his nose in where it didn’t belong.  He placed the bottle on the table and grabbed the book.  He stumbled once on the way to the door but managed to answer it, surprised when he didn’t see Mr. Johnson.

“Rebecca?  What are you doing here?” he asked.

“My father had to meet with a business partner,” she replied.  “I came to pick up his book.”

He held it out to her.  “Here it is.”

She took the book but didn’t leave.  “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine.”

She hesitated but nodded and headed back down the porch.

He shut the door and returned to the parlor, glancing at the clock.  His parents wouldn’t be home for at least another hour.  Picking up the bottle, he plopped down on the settee and drank more wine.  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.  The wine did a good job of dulling the pain.  By now, he hardly felt anything.

Someone sat next to him, and he looked over in time to see Rebecca’s concerned expression.  “Kent, what’s wrong?  Did I speak out of line at the bank yesterday?”

He shook his head.  “It wasn’t you.”

None of it was her fault.  His father manipulated so much of his life.  Why he thought his life would be any different after leaving New York, he didn’t know.  His father had made up his mind, and he was determined to use him to get as much money as possible.

She took the bottle from him.  “Even so, I feel like I did something wrong.  You were so nervous at the bank.” She glanced around the room.  “If you’re going to drink, it’d be better if you did it from a glass.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he assured her as she carried the bottle to the decanter and glasses on another table and poured some wine into a glass.  He closed his eyes, aware that the room was beginning to spin around him.  “It’s my father.  He lives to make my life miserable.”

“Does he?”

“Yes.  All he wants to do is control everything I do.  I don’t know why he even let me believe I could marry Ann.” He bitterly laughed.  “He’s the one who told your father I wanted to be with you instead of Ann.  That’s why it’s not your fault.  How could you have known differently?”

“Oh, so then you didn’t fancy me at all.”

Noting the disappointment in her voice, he winced.  “I’m sorry.  Will you forgive me for lying to you yesterday?”

She sat next to him and handed him a glass of wine.  “There’s nothing to forgive.  You were in an awkward situation.  What were you supposed to do?  Be rude and tell me in a public setting that you didn’t care for me?  I would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed.”

“It’s not that I don’t care for you at all.” He sighed and ran his thumb along the glass.  “You’ve always been kind to me.”

She smiled and clasped her hands in her lap.  “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wished you cared for me the way you do for Ann, but I know we can’t help the way we feel.  And Ann adores you.  She’ll be very good to you.”

He shook his head, uncertain of the future.  Would Ann be willing to give up everything to be with him?  There was no way her father would give him her dowry now, and he couldn’t afford to give her the things she desired until the investments matured.  A year seemed like such a long ways off to wait until he could marry her.  And would his parents even wait that long to see him secure a wife?

He drank his wine and glanced at Rebecca.  “You can have a glass if you want?”

“Oh, I’m not thirsty.” After he finished the glass, she asked, “Would you like some more?”

“How much is left in the bottle?”

“About another glass worth.”

“Might as well finish it.”

Before he could go to the bottle, she took his glass.  “I’ll get it for you.”

When she returned, he took the full glass and stared at the dark liquid.  It was definitely soothing to drink alcohol.  His body had relaxed to the point where he no longer cared about the day’s events.  He glanced at Rebecca.  “Thank you,” he lifted the glass, “for giving me more.” He drank half the glass.  “I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“Nonsense.” She touched his knee, giving it a light squeeze.

His body responded to her touch, the alcohol only intensifying the pleasure from her simple action.  There was no way she could be aware of his reaction to her.  And that was why he had to send her home, before he did something they’d both regret.  With a yawn, he placed his glass on the table and wobbled to his feet.  “You should go home.”

Though she remained seated, she grabbed her father’s book and said, “You’re right.  It’s not wise for me to be here when no one else is in the house.”

He yawned again and blinked to clear his vision.

“Help me up?” she asked, raising her hand.

“Of course.” Had he been sober, he was sure he would have remembered his manners.  He clasped his hand around hers and helped her to her feet.  He blinked again and his vision blurred to the point where he thought he saw two of her.  He needed to get to bed.

She placed her hand on his chest.  “Kent, are you feeling alright?”

“I,” he blinked again, “feel,” the room spun, “fine.” Then everything went black.

Sunday Story Sample: Kent Ashton’s Backstory: Another Scene

 

Okay.  Obviously, it’s not Sunday and I hit publish by accident.  I meant to schedule it for Sunday.   I’ll be scheduling other posts for this week.  I’ll be at the RT Convention all week so I won’t get to comments until after next Sunday (not tomorrow but the one after that).

Let’s hope I remember to hit “schedule” instead of “publish” when I do those.  LOL

For today’s Sunday Story Sample, I’m posting another scene for Kent Ashton’s Backstory.

“I’ve never been so happy in my entire life,” Ann said the next day as Kent walked down the block that would take her home.  “When do you think we should have the wedding?”

“I have to get your father’s approval before we can make plans, but I’d like to do it sooner rather than later,” he replied.

“Before you talk to him, I want to go to him and tell him how much I love you.  I’ve decided if I can’t marry you, then I won’t marry anyone and I’m going to tell him that.”

Touched, he paused and turned to her.  “Really?  You’ll tell him that?”

“Of course.  I don’t want to be with anyone but you.”

“And you don’t mind going to New York?”

“As long as we’re together, it doesn’t matter where we are.”

He clasped her hand.  “I love you, Ann.”

She squeezed his hand and smiled.  “I love you, too.”

Once they reached her house, he said, “Let me know when you talk to your father.  I’d like to make our engagement official as soon as possible.”

“I will.  Thank you for walking me home from school.”

“It was my pleasure.” He kissed her hand then bid her good-bye.

Once she entered her house, he headed down her walkway when a carriage pulled to a stop.  His steps slowed when he realized the carriage belonged to Ann’s father.

The footman opened the door and her father gestured to him.  “I need to talk to you.”

Kent noted the stern look on his face and hesitated.  Something told him he didn’t want to hear what her father had to say, but what choice did he have?  Taking a deep breath, he entered the carriage and sat across from him.

“Take us to Mister Ashton’s residence,” her father told the footman who nodded and closed the door.  Once the carriage moved forward, he turned his attention to Kent.  “You’re not allowed to see my daughter anymore.”

“Is this because you didn’t give me permission to marry her?” Kent should have expected this.  He’d hoped Ann would get a chance to talk to her father before her father realized he was still courting her.

“No, though the fact that I said no to your request is enough of a reason.  But as it turns out, I know what’s been transpiring between you and Miss Johnson.”

His eyebrows furrowed.  “What’s been transpiring between me and Miss Johnson?”

“Don’t treat me like a fool.”

“I’m not, sir.  There is nothing going on between us.  Our parents are friends.  That’s all.”

Her father glowered at him.  “You would dare stare me right in the eye and lie to me?”

He swallowed, unsure of how to proceed.

“I found out about your conversation at the bank.”

Kent’s uncertainty slowly gave way to anger.  Todd.  Todd had been watching him.  “Whatever Mister Brothers said, it’s not true, sir.”

“I didn’t find out from Mister Brothers.  I found out from Mister Mitchell.”

“Who?”

“He was from out of town.  I don’t know him and neither do you.”

“I fail to understand how this involves me and Miss Johnson.”

Her father pressed his hands on his knees and asked, “Are you going to deny that you told Miss Johnson you were marrying my daughter for her dowry?  Did you not tell her you had a fondness for her?”

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.  Had he any idea someone was listening to his conversation, he never would have said anything.  But how was he to know someone who didn’t know him would meddle in his affairs?  When he was able to release his breath, he said, “It wasn’t the way it sounded, sir.  My father is determined that I’ll marry Miss Johnson, but I don’t want to be with her.”

“Then why not just tell her that?”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Of course, it is, if it was the truth.”

“It is the truth.”

Her father held his hand up to stop Kent from saying anything else.  “I’ve heard enough.  Your own words have betrayed you.  I forbid you to marry her, and tomorrow, you will end your courtship with her.”

“But—”

“Don’t disobey me in this.” The carriage came to a stop and he added, “This is the last time I’ll speak to you.  Understand?”

The footman opened the door and Kent struggled with something—anything—he might say to rectify the situation, but his mind drew a blank.

“Go,” her father ordered.

He slightly jerked at the subtle threat in her father’s voice and hurried to obey him.  It wasn’t until the carriage was halfway down the street that a tear slid down Kent’s cheek.