Camy Tang's Blog, page 141
January 31, 2012
Street Team Book List excerpt - Love Blooms in Winter by Lori Copeland
Camy here: Here's another book I added to my Street Team book giveaway list! You can win this book by joining my Street Team--Click here for more info!
Love Blooms in Winter
by
Lori Copeland
A romantic new book from bestselling author Lori Copeland that portrays God's miraculous provision even when none seems possible.
1892—Mae Wilkey's sweet next-door neighbor, Pauline, is suffering from old age and dementia and desperately needs family to come help her. But Pauline can't recall having kin remaining. Mae searches through her desk and finds a name—Tom Curtis, who may just be the answer to their prayers.
Tom can't remember an old aunt named Pauline, but if she thinks he's a long-lost nephew, he very well may be. After two desperate letters from Mae, he decides to pay a visit. An engagement, a runaway train, and a town of quirky, loveable people make for more of an adventure than Tom is expecting. But it is amazing what can bloom in winter when God is in charge of things.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Chapter 1
Dwadlo, North Dakota, 1892
The winter of '92 is gonna go down as one of the worst Dwadlo's ever seen," Hal Murphy grumbled as he dumped the sack of flour he got for his wife on the store counter. "Mark my words." He turned toward Mae Wilkey, the petite postmistress, who was stuffing mail in wooden slots.
"Spring can't come soon enough for me." She stepped back, straightening the row of letters and flyers. She didn't have to record Hal's prediction; it was the same every year. "I'd rather plant flowers than shovel snow any day of the week."
"Yes, ma'am." Hal nodded to the store owner, Dale Smith, who stood five foot seven inches with a rounded belly and salt-and-pepper hair swept to a wide front bang. "Add a couple of those dill pickles, will you?" Hal watched as Dale went over to the barrel and fished around inside, coming up with two fat pickles.
"That'll fix me up." Hal turned his attention back to the mail cage, his eyes fixed on the lovely sight. "Can't understand why you're still single, Mae. You're as pretty as a raindrop on a lily pad." He sniffed the air. "And you smell as good."
Smiling, Mae moved from the letter boxes to the cash box. Icy weather may have delayed the train this morning, but she still had to count money and record the day's inventory. "Now, Hal, you know I'd marry you in a wink if you weren't already taken." Hal and Clara had been married forty-two years, but Mae's usual comeback never failed to put a sparkle in the farmer's eye. Truth be, she put a smile on every man's face, but she wasn't often aware of the flattering looks she received. Her heart belonged to Jake Mallory, Dwadlo's up-and-coming attorney.
Hal nodded. "I know. All the good ones are taken, aren't they?"
She nodded. "Every single one. Especially in Dwadlo."
The little prairie town was formed when the Chicago & North Western Railroad came through five years ago. Where abundant grass, wild flowers, and waterfalls had once flourished, hundreds of miles of steel rail crisscrossed the land, making way for big, black steam engines that hauled folks and supplies. Before the railroad came through, only three homesteads had dotted the rugged Dakota Territory: Mae's family's, Hal and Clara's, and Pauline Wilson's.
But in '87 life changed, and formerly platted sites became bustling towns. Pine Grove and Branch Springs followed, and Dwadlo suddenly thrived with immigrants, opportunists, and adventure-seeking folks staking claims out West. A new world opened when the Dakota Boom started.
Hal's gaze focused on Mae's left hand. "Jake still hasn't popped the question?"
Mae sighed. Hal was a pleasant sort, but she really wished the townspeople would occupy their thoughts with something other than her and Jake's pending engagement. True, they had been courting for six years and Jake still hadn't proposed, but she was confident he would. He'd said so, and he was a man of his word—though every holiday, when a ring would have been an appropriate gift, that special token of his intentions failed to materialize. Mae had more lockets than any one woman could wear, but Jake apparently thought that she could always use another one. What she could really use was his hand in marriage. The bloom was swiftly fading from her youth, and it would be nice if her younger brother, Jeremy, had a man's presence in his life.
"Be patient, Hal. He's busy trying to establish a business."
"Good lands. How long does it take a man to open a law office?"
"Apparently six years and counting." She didn't like the uncertainty but she understood it, even if the town's population didn't. She had a good life, what with work, church, and the occasional social. Jake accompanied her to all public events, came over two or three times a week, and never failed to extend a hand when she needed something. It was almost as though they were already married.
"The man's a fool," Hal declared. "He'd better slap a ring on that finger before someone else comes along and does it for him."
"Not likely in Dwadlo," Mae mused. The town itself was made up of less than a hundred residents, but other folks lived in the surrounding areas and did their banking and shopping here. Main Street consisted of the General Store, Smith's Grain and Feed, the livery, the mortuary, the town hall and jail (which was almost always empty), Doc Swede's office, Rosie's Café, and an empty building that had once housed the saloon. Mae hadn't spotted a sign on any business yet advertising "Husbands," but she was certain her patience would eventually win out.
With a final smile Hal moved off to pay for his goods. Mae hummed a little as she put the money box in the safe. Looking out the window, she noticed a stiff November wind snapping the red canvas awning that sheltered the store's porch. Across the square, a large gazebo absorbed the battering wind. The usually active gathering place was now empty under a gray sky. On summer nights music played, and the smell of popcorn and roasted peanuts filled the air. Today the structure looked as though it were bracing for another winter storm. Sighing, Mae realized she already longed for green grass, blooming flowers, and warm breezes.
After Hal left Mae finished up the last of the chores and then reached for her warm wool cape. She usually enjoyed the short walk home from work, but today she was tired—and her feet hurt because of the new boots she'd purchased from the Montgomery Ward catalog. On the page they had looked comfortable with their high tops and polished leather, but on her feet they felt like a vise.
Slipping the cape's hood over her hair, she said goodbye to Dale and then paused when her hand touched the doorknob. "Oh, dear. I really do need to check on Pauline again."
"How's she doing?" The store owner paused and leaned on his broom. "I noticed she hasn't been in church recently."
Dale always reminded Mae of an owl perching on a tree limb, his big, dark blue eyes swiveling here and there. He might not talk a body's leg off, but he kept up on town issues. She admired the quiet little man for what he did for the community and respected the way he preached to the congregation on Sundays.
How was Pauline doing? Mae worried the question over in her mind. Pauline lived alone, and she shouldn't. The elderly woman was Mae's neighbor, and she checked on her daily, but Pauline was steadily losing ground.
"She's getting more and more fragile, I'm afraid. Dale, have you ever heard Pauline speak of kin?"
The small man didn't take even a moment to ponder the question. "Never heard her mention a single word about family of any kind."
"Hmm…me neither. But surely she must have some." Someone who should be here, in Dwadlo, looking after the frail soul. Mae didn't resent the extra work, but the post office and her brother kept her busy, and she really didn't have the right to make important decisions regarding the elderly woman's rapidly failing health.
Striding back to the bread rack, she picked up a fresh loaf. Dale had private rooms at the back of the store where he made his home, and he was often up before dawn baking bread, pies, and cakes for the community. Most folks in town baked their own goods, but there were a few, widowers and such, who depended on Dale's culinary skills. By this hour of the day the goods were usually gone, but a few remained. Placing a cherry pie in her basket as well, she called, "Add these things to my account, please, Dale. And pray for Pauline too."
Nodding, he continued sweeping, methodically running the stiff broomcorn bristles across the warped wood floor.
The numbing wind hit Mae full force when she stepped off the porch. Her hood flew off her head and an icy gust of air snatched away her breath. Putting down her basket, she retied the hood before setting off for the brief walk home. Dwadlo was laid out in a rather strange pattern, a point everyone agreed on. Businesses and homes were built close together, partly as shelter from the howling prairie winds and partly because there wasn't much forethought given to town planning. Residents' homes sat not a hundred feet from the store. The whole community encompassed less than five acres.
Halfway to her house, snowflakes began swirling in the air. Huddling deeper into her wrap, Mae concentrated on the path as the flakes grew bigger.
She quickly covered the short distance to Pauline's. The dwelling was little more than a front room, tiny kitchen, and bedroom, but she was a small woman. Pauline pinned her yellow-white hair in a tight knot at the base of her skull, and she didn't have a tooth in her head. She chewed snuff, which she freely admitted was an awful habit, but Mae had never heard her speak of giving it up.
Her faded blue eyes were as round as buttons, and no matter what kind of day she was having, it was always a new one to her, filled with wonders. Her mind wasn't what it used to be. She had good and bad days, but mostly days when her moods changed as swift as summer lightning. She could be talking about tomatoes in the garden patch when suddenly she would be discussing how to spin wool.
Mae noted a soft wisp of smoke curling up from the chimney and smiled. Pauline had remembered to feed the fire this afternoon, so this was a good day.
Unlatching the gate, she followed the path to the front porch. In summertime the white railings hung heavy with red roses, and the scent of honeysuckle filled the air. This afternoon the wind howled across the barren flower beds Pauline carefully nurtured during warmer weather. Often she planted okra where petunias should be, but she enjoyed puttering in the soil and the earth loved her. She brought fresh tomatoes, corn, and beans to the store during spring and summer, and pumpkins and squash lined the railings in the fall.
In earlier days Pauline's quilts were known throughout the area. She and her quilting group had made quite a name for themselves when Dwadlo first became a town. Four women excelled in the craft. One had lived in Pine Grove, and two others came from as far away as Branch Springs once a month to break bread together and stitch quilts. But one by one the women had died off, leaving Pauline to sew alone in her narrowing world.
Stomping her boots on the porch, Mae said under her breath, "I don't mind winter, Lord, but could we perhaps have a little less of it?" The only answer was the wind whipping her garments. Tapping lightly on the door, she called, "Pauline?"
Mae stepped back and waited to hear the shuffle of feet. Pauline used to answer the door in less than twenty seconds. It took longer now. Mae made a fist with her gloved hand and banged a little harder. The wind howled around the cottage eaves. She closed her eyes and prayed that Jeremy had remembered to stack sufficient firewood beside the kitchen door. The boy was generally responsible, and she thanked God every day that she had him to lean on. He had been injured by forceps during birth, which left him with special needs. He was a very happy fourteen-year-old with the reasoning power of a child of nine.
A full minute passed. Mae frowned and tried the doorknob. Pauline couldn't hear herself yell in a churn, but she might also be asleep. The door opened easily, and Mae peeked inside the small living quarters. She saw that a fire burned low in the woodstove, and Pauline's rocking chair sat empty.
Stepping inside, she closed the door and called again. "Pauline? It's Mae!"
The ticking of the mantle clock was the only sound that met her ears.
"Pauline?" She lowered her hood and walked through the living room. She paused in the kitchen doorway.
"Oh, Pauline!"
Print book:
Barnes and Noble
Amazon
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Ebook:
Nookbook
Kindle
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Love Blooms in Winterby
Lori Copeland
A romantic new book from bestselling author Lori Copeland that portrays God's miraculous provision even when none seems possible.
1892—Mae Wilkey's sweet next-door neighbor, Pauline, is suffering from old age and dementia and desperately needs family to come help her. But Pauline can't recall having kin remaining. Mae searches through her desk and finds a name—Tom Curtis, who may just be the answer to their prayers.
Tom can't remember an old aunt named Pauline, but if she thinks he's a long-lost nephew, he very well may be. After two desperate letters from Mae, he decides to pay a visit. An engagement, a runaway train, and a town of quirky, loveable people make for more of an adventure than Tom is expecting. But it is amazing what can bloom in winter when God is in charge of things.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Chapter 1
Dwadlo, North Dakota, 1892
The winter of '92 is gonna go down as one of the worst Dwadlo's ever seen," Hal Murphy grumbled as he dumped the sack of flour he got for his wife on the store counter. "Mark my words." He turned toward Mae Wilkey, the petite postmistress, who was stuffing mail in wooden slots.
"Spring can't come soon enough for me." She stepped back, straightening the row of letters and flyers. She didn't have to record Hal's prediction; it was the same every year. "I'd rather plant flowers than shovel snow any day of the week."
"Yes, ma'am." Hal nodded to the store owner, Dale Smith, who stood five foot seven inches with a rounded belly and salt-and-pepper hair swept to a wide front bang. "Add a couple of those dill pickles, will you?" Hal watched as Dale went over to the barrel and fished around inside, coming up with two fat pickles.
"That'll fix me up." Hal turned his attention back to the mail cage, his eyes fixed on the lovely sight. "Can't understand why you're still single, Mae. You're as pretty as a raindrop on a lily pad." He sniffed the air. "And you smell as good."
Smiling, Mae moved from the letter boxes to the cash box. Icy weather may have delayed the train this morning, but she still had to count money and record the day's inventory. "Now, Hal, you know I'd marry you in a wink if you weren't already taken." Hal and Clara had been married forty-two years, but Mae's usual comeback never failed to put a sparkle in the farmer's eye. Truth be, she put a smile on every man's face, but she wasn't often aware of the flattering looks she received. Her heart belonged to Jake Mallory, Dwadlo's up-and-coming attorney.
Hal nodded. "I know. All the good ones are taken, aren't they?"
She nodded. "Every single one. Especially in Dwadlo."
The little prairie town was formed when the Chicago & North Western Railroad came through five years ago. Where abundant grass, wild flowers, and waterfalls had once flourished, hundreds of miles of steel rail crisscrossed the land, making way for big, black steam engines that hauled folks and supplies. Before the railroad came through, only three homesteads had dotted the rugged Dakota Territory: Mae's family's, Hal and Clara's, and Pauline Wilson's.
But in '87 life changed, and formerly platted sites became bustling towns. Pine Grove and Branch Springs followed, and Dwadlo suddenly thrived with immigrants, opportunists, and adventure-seeking folks staking claims out West. A new world opened when the Dakota Boom started.
Hal's gaze focused on Mae's left hand. "Jake still hasn't popped the question?"
Mae sighed. Hal was a pleasant sort, but she really wished the townspeople would occupy their thoughts with something other than her and Jake's pending engagement. True, they had been courting for six years and Jake still hadn't proposed, but she was confident he would. He'd said so, and he was a man of his word—though every holiday, when a ring would have been an appropriate gift, that special token of his intentions failed to materialize. Mae had more lockets than any one woman could wear, but Jake apparently thought that she could always use another one. What she could really use was his hand in marriage. The bloom was swiftly fading from her youth, and it would be nice if her younger brother, Jeremy, had a man's presence in his life.
"Be patient, Hal. He's busy trying to establish a business."
"Good lands. How long does it take a man to open a law office?"
"Apparently six years and counting." She didn't like the uncertainty but she understood it, even if the town's population didn't. She had a good life, what with work, church, and the occasional social. Jake accompanied her to all public events, came over two or three times a week, and never failed to extend a hand when she needed something. It was almost as though they were already married.
"The man's a fool," Hal declared. "He'd better slap a ring on that finger before someone else comes along and does it for him."
"Not likely in Dwadlo," Mae mused. The town itself was made up of less than a hundred residents, but other folks lived in the surrounding areas and did their banking and shopping here. Main Street consisted of the General Store, Smith's Grain and Feed, the livery, the mortuary, the town hall and jail (which was almost always empty), Doc Swede's office, Rosie's Café, and an empty building that had once housed the saloon. Mae hadn't spotted a sign on any business yet advertising "Husbands," but she was certain her patience would eventually win out.
With a final smile Hal moved off to pay for his goods. Mae hummed a little as she put the money box in the safe. Looking out the window, she noticed a stiff November wind snapping the red canvas awning that sheltered the store's porch. Across the square, a large gazebo absorbed the battering wind. The usually active gathering place was now empty under a gray sky. On summer nights music played, and the smell of popcorn and roasted peanuts filled the air. Today the structure looked as though it were bracing for another winter storm. Sighing, Mae realized she already longed for green grass, blooming flowers, and warm breezes.
After Hal left Mae finished up the last of the chores and then reached for her warm wool cape. She usually enjoyed the short walk home from work, but today she was tired—and her feet hurt because of the new boots she'd purchased from the Montgomery Ward catalog. On the page they had looked comfortable with their high tops and polished leather, but on her feet they felt like a vise.
Slipping the cape's hood over her hair, she said goodbye to Dale and then paused when her hand touched the doorknob. "Oh, dear. I really do need to check on Pauline again."
"How's she doing?" The store owner paused and leaned on his broom. "I noticed she hasn't been in church recently."
Dale always reminded Mae of an owl perching on a tree limb, his big, dark blue eyes swiveling here and there. He might not talk a body's leg off, but he kept up on town issues. She admired the quiet little man for what he did for the community and respected the way he preached to the congregation on Sundays.
How was Pauline doing? Mae worried the question over in her mind. Pauline lived alone, and she shouldn't. The elderly woman was Mae's neighbor, and she checked on her daily, but Pauline was steadily losing ground.
"She's getting more and more fragile, I'm afraid. Dale, have you ever heard Pauline speak of kin?"
The small man didn't take even a moment to ponder the question. "Never heard her mention a single word about family of any kind."
"Hmm…me neither. But surely she must have some." Someone who should be here, in Dwadlo, looking after the frail soul. Mae didn't resent the extra work, but the post office and her brother kept her busy, and she really didn't have the right to make important decisions regarding the elderly woman's rapidly failing health.
Striding back to the bread rack, she picked up a fresh loaf. Dale had private rooms at the back of the store where he made his home, and he was often up before dawn baking bread, pies, and cakes for the community. Most folks in town baked their own goods, but there were a few, widowers and such, who depended on Dale's culinary skills. By this hour of the day the goods were usually gone, but a few remained. Placing a cherry pie in her basket as well, she called, "Add these things to my account, please, Dale. And pray for Pauline too."
Nodding, he continued sweeping, methodically running the stiff broomcorn bristles across the warped wood floor.
The numbing wind hit Mae full force when she stepped off the porch. Her hood flew off her head and an icy gust of air snatched away her breath. Putting down her basket, she retied the hood before setting off for the brief walk home. Dwadlo was laid out in a rather strange pattern, a point everyone agreed on. Businesses and homes were built close together, partly as shelter from the howling prairie winds and partly because there wasn't much forethought given to town planning. Residents' homes sat not a hundred feet from the store. The whole community encompassed less than five acres.
Halfway to her house, snowflakes began swirling in the air. Huddling deeper into her wrap, Mae concentrated on the path as the flakes grew bigger.
She quickly covered the short distance to Pauline's. The dwelling was little more than a front room, tiny kitchen, and bedroom, but she was a small woman. Pauline pinned her yellow-white hair in a tight knot at the base of her skull, and she didn't have a tooth in her head. She chewed snuff, which she freely admitted was an awful habit, but Mae had never heard her speak of giving it up.
Her faded blue eyes were as round as buttons, and no matter what kind of day she was having, it was always a new one to her, filled with wonders. Her mind wasn't what it used to be. She had good and bad days, but mostly days when her moods changed as swift as summer lightning. She could be talking about tomatoes in the garden patch when suddenly she would be discussing how to spin wool.
Mae noted a soft wisp of smoke curling up from the chimney and smiled. Pauline had remembered to feed the fire this afternoon, so this was a good day.
Unlatching the gate, she followed the path to the front porch. In summertime the white railings hung heavy with red roses, and the scent of honeysuckle filled the air. This afternoon the wind howled across the barren flower beds Pauline carefully nurtured during warmer weather. Often she planted okra where petunias should be, but she enjoyed puttering in the soil and the earth loved her. She brought fresh tomatoes, corn, and beans to the store during spring and summer, and pumpkins and squash lined the railings in the fall.
In earlier days Pauline's quilts were known throughout the area. She and her quilting group had made quite a name for themselves when Dwadlo first became a town. Four women excelled in the craft. One had lived in Pine Grove, and two others came from as far away as Branch Springs once a month to break bread together and stitch quilts. But one by one the women had died off, leaving Pauline to sew alone in her narrowing world.
Stomping her boots on the porch, Mae said under her breath, "I don't mind winter, Lord, but could we perhaps have a little less of it?" The only answer was the wind whipping her garments. Tapping lightly on the door, she called, "Pauline?"
Mae stepped back and waited to hear the shuffle of feet. Pauline used to answer the door in less than twenty seconds. It took longer now. Mae made a fist with her gloved hand and banged a little harder. The wind howled around the cottage eaves. She closed her eyes and prayed that Jeremy had remembered to stack sufficient firewood beside the kitchen door. The boy was generally responsible, and she thanked God every day that she had him to lean on. He had been injured by forceps during birth, which left him with special needs. He was a very happy fourteen-year-old with the reasoning power of a child of nine.
A full minute passed. Mae frowned and tried the doorknob. Pauline couldn't hear herself yell in a churn, but she might also be asleep. The door opened easily, and Mae peeked inside the small living quarters. She saw that a fire burned low in the woodstove, and Pauline's rocking chair sat empty.
Stepping inside, she closed the door and called again. "Pauline? It's Mae!"
The ticking of the mantle clock was the only sound that met her ears.
"Pauline?" She lowered her hood and walked through the living room. She paused in the kitchen doorway.
"Oh, Pauline!"
Print book:
Barnes and Noble
Amazon
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Ebook:
Nookbook
Kindle
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
January 18, 2012
Guest blog and Street Team Book List excerpt - Allie Pleiter
Camy here: Here's another book I added to my Street Team book giveaway list! You can win this book by joining my Street Team--Click here for more info!
Falling for the Fireman
by
Allie Pleiter
There's something achingly familiar about the look in fire marshal Chad Owens's eyes. Widowed mom Jeannie Nelworth knows firsthand what it is: loss, hurt and yes—bitterness. Ever since the fire that changed their lives, Jeannie's young son has borne that same look, pushing everyone away. So she's grateful when Chad tries to get through to the boy with the help of his trusty fire station dog.
But the man who's all about safety and prevention keeps himself protected—from loving and losing again. Seems as if Jeannie will have to add his kind, guarded heart to her rebuilding efforts.
And now, here's Allie!
I'm not sure I buy into the concept of a universal consciousness, but every once in a while the world lines up in a way that makes you wonder if the Holy Spirit couldn't easily pull it off.
I needed a positive fire experience. Something a little more exotic than roasting s'mores around a campfire, but nothing huge and inferno-like, either. After trolling around the internet for a few weeks, I came upon the Chinese lantern ceremony. It was perfect. Visually stunning, filled with spiritual metaphors, and extravagant enough to feel out of place in the small Illinois town I'd created as the setting for FALLING FOR THE FIREMAN. A romantic night backdrop for a pivotal turning point in Chad's relationship with Jeannie.
Smiling smugly, I congratulated myself on having grafted a unique and somewhat exotic custom into my next novel.
Then, my nieces come to visit. For fun, we rent TANGLED--Disney's surprisingly clever re-do of the Rapunzel. What's crucial to the plot? Floating lanterns straight out of the Chinese lantern ceremony.
Some part of me wants to stand up and yell "I thought of it first!" but I didn't. I just hadn't seen the movie until months after it came out. And really, who am I to lay claim to a thousand-year-old oriental ceremony?
Nothing's ever really "new." The creative people on the planet just take old ideas and use them in new ways.
But really, I thought of it before Disney. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Excerpt of chapter one:
TEST
Print book:
Harlequin.com (Save an extra 10% with code SAVE10AFFO at checkout!)
LARGE PRINT Harlequin.com (Save an extra 10% with code SAVE10AFFO at checkout!)
Barnes and Noble
Amazon
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
LARGE PRINT BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Ebook:
Harlequin.com (Save an extra 10% with code SAVE10AFFO at checkout!)
Nookbook
Kindle
Falling for the Firemanby
Allie Pleiter
There's something achingly familiar about the look in fire marshal Chad Owens's eyes. Widowed mom Jeannie Nelworth knows firsthand what it is: loss, hurt and yes—bitterness. Ever since the fire that changed their lives, Jeannie's young son has borne that same look, pushing everyone away. So she's grateful when Chad tries to get through to the boy with the help of his trusty fire station dog.
But the man who's all about safety and prevention keeps himself protected—from loving and losing again. Seems as if Jeannie will have to add his kind, guarded heart to her rebuilding efforts.
And now, here's Allie!
I'm not sure I buy into the concept of a universal consciousness, but every once in a while the world lines up in a way that makes you wonder if the Holy Spirit couldn't easily pull it off.
I needed a positive fire experience. Something a little more exotic than roasting s'mores around a campfire, but nothing huge and inferno-like, either. After trolling around the internet for a few weeks, I came upon the Chinese lantern ceremony. It was perfect. Visually stunning, filled with spiritual metaphors, and extravagant enough to feel out of place in the small Illinois town I'd created as the setting for FALLING FOR THE FIREMAN. A romantic night backdrop for a pivotal turning point in Chad's relationship with Jeannie.
Smiling smugly, I congratulated myself on having grafted a unique and somewhat exotic custom into my next novel.
Then, my nieces come to visit. For fun, we rent TANGLED--Disney's surprisingly clever re-do of the Rapunzel. What's crucial to the plot? Floating lanterns straight out of the Chinese lantern ceremony.
Some part of me wants to stand up and yell "I thought of it first!" but I didn't. I just hadn't seen the movie until months after it came out. And really, who am I to lay claim to a thousand-year-old oriental ceremony?
Nothing's ever really "new." The creative people on the planet just take old ideas and use them in new ways.
But really, I thought of it before Disney. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Excerpt of chapter one:
TEST
Print book:
Harlequin.com (Save an extra 10% with code SAVE10AFFO at checkout!)
LARGE PRINT Harlequin.com (Save an extra 10% with code SAVE10AFFO at checkout!)
Barnes and Noble
Amazon
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
LARGE PRINT BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Ebook:
Harlequin.com (Save an extra 10% with code SAVE10AFFO at checkout!)
Nookbook
Kindle
January 16, 2012
Booksigning schedule in OK and TX!
I finally figured out how to add events to Goodreads! I hope this works:
http://www.goodreads.com/event/list_author/291940
I think this link will lead to all my current "events," which are some booksignings and a couple writing workshops in Oklahoma and Texas both this week and next week.
I hope you guys who are near some of these cities will come by to say hi!
http://www.goodreads.com/event/list_author/291940
I think this link will lead to all my current "events," which are some booksignings and a couple writing workshops in Oklahoma and Texas both this week and next week.
I hope you guys who are near some of these cities will come by to say hi!
January 14, 2012
Excerpt - Stalker in the Shadows by Camy Tang!!!!!!
Some of you have been asking about it, so here it is! Available at retail stores this month only, and some online stores will have it for a few months longer, or order it on ebook (see links below).
Stalker in the Shadows
by
Camy Tang
"Consider this a warning."
Lately, nurse Monica Grant feels she's being watched. Followed. And then she receives a threatening letter—accompanied by a dead snake. If she doesn't stop her plans to open a free children's clinic, she'll end up dead, too. Terrified, Monica turns to former lawman Shaun O'Neill—who believes the same madman murdered his own sister five years before. She understands how much it means to the handsome, heart-guarding man to save her—and her dream. Even if he has to lure a deadly stalker out of the shadows—straight toward himself.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Someone was watching her.
Monica Grant glanced around the bustling central plaza in downtown Sonoma, California, and rubbed the back of her neck, but the ugly, prickly feeling wouldn't go away. She remembered the well-worn phrase from her Nancy Drew books—"the hair stood up on the back of her neck"—but she'd never realized how true it was. Until now.
She couldn't actually see anyone looking at her—there were tourists strolling around Sonoma City Hall and the fountain, cars driving slowly around the square, shoppers stepping in and out of the quaint shops. A few locals across the street noticed her looking at them and waved hello. She waved back with a smile, recognizing them as staff from a nearby restaurant. The Grant family's successful day spa, Joy Luck Life, had helped bring even more activity to the small tourist town, and all of her family was acquainted with most of the local business owners and staff.
But as she continued walking along the line of shops and historical buildings, the creepy feeling crawled up her shoulder blades. She whirled around suddenly, but didn't catch anyone in the act of staring at her, or ducking into a shop doorway to escape her notice.
It had been a silly thought, anyway. She wasn't a spy. She was probably imagining things.
She turned to enter Lorianne's Cafe, a popular new restaurant owned by one of her high school classmates, which served California fusion cuisine made exclusively with local produce. She thought the feeling of being watched would go away as soon as she entered the building, but an uncomfortable shaft of prickling shot down her spine. She turned to look out the restaurant's glass front doors, toward the green park area around Sonoma City Hall, but couldn't see anyone except a few tourists walking by.
"Monica Grant, are you stalking me?"
The voice, still betraying the slight Irish lilt of his homeland, made her turn. "Mr. O'Neill! I should say,you're stalking me."
Patrick O'Neill's light blue eyes creased deeply at the corners. "Seeing you at the Zoe International charity banquet last week wasn't enough. I had to get in more of your lovely company." He enfolded her in a hug that made her cheek rasp against his usual Hawaiian-print, button-down shirt. Quite a contrast to the tuxedo he'd worn at the annual dinner that Zoe International, an anti-human-slavery organization, had hosted to thank its donors.
"Are you here in Sonoma just for the day?" Monica asked. "Or are you staying overnight before you head back down to
Marin?"
"I'm here for a few days, spending time with my new grandson."
"That's right, I heard about the new baby yesterday from Aunt Becca." At first Monica had been shocked because she'd thought the new baby was Shaun's son, but quickly realized her mistake—it was Brady's son, Shaun's nephew. She hoped Aunt Becca hadn't noticed her initial stunned reaction.
"What have you been up to in the seven whole days since
I've seen you?" He tugged at a silver lock of hair on his wide forehead. It brought back an image of Shaun doing the same gesture.
She forced her mind away from his eldest son. "I'm still taking care of Dad since he had his stroke."
"He's doing better? Last week, we were interrupted before I could ask you about him."
"He still needs a live-in nurse, but I'm also taking him to physical therapy several times a week, and he's gaining mobility back. He doesn't need me quite as much, which is good, because my sister Naomi announced her engagement six weeks ago. She's planning her wedding, so sometimes when she has to take off work at the spa, I fill in as manager for her."
"Will she still be manager when she marries?"
"No, she's going to start her own private massage therapy business in the city, closer to her future husband's office. We're trying to hire someone to take over when she leaves, but until then.. " She had to stifle a small sigh. Because she still took care of her dad, filling in for Naomi stole precious free time that she didn't have. The spa needed to hire someone soon.
"From nurse to manager." His blue eyes were more piercing than his son's. "It doesn't sit with you well?"
His insight startled her. "I loved being an Emergency Room nurse," she said, "but I have to admit I don't regret quitting my job at Good Samaritan Hospital when Dad needed me. What I'd really like to do is run a free children's clinic for Sonoma and Napa counties."
Unlike Monica's father, Mr. O'Neill didn't roll his eyes at her. Instead, he nodded gravely. "Then you should do it, my girl. You only have one life to love."
His phrasing touched her on a deeper level, stirred up things she had left collecting on the bottom. She shifted uncomfortably, then changed gears, giving him a teasing look. "So who are you meeting for lunch? Yet another struggling hotel owner whose hotel you're going to buy and then turn into a raging success?"
"No, I'm just here having lunch with my son." He gestured behind him.
Brady, his second eldest son, lived only a few miles from Sonoma in Geyserville. Monica's gaze flickered over Mr. O'Neill's shoulder, past the hostess waiting patiently behind the desk, toward the restaurant's bar.and she froze.
Shaun O'Neill stared right back at her. Her breath stopped in her throat and seemed to hum there. She recognized the strange sensation, something she had only felt twice before in her life—at her first sight of a cherry red Lamborghini, and the very first time she'd met Shaun O'Neill, ten years ago at a Zoe International banquet.
Her heart started racing as he rose from his seat at the bar and walked toward them. His expression was unfathomable. Was he happy to see her? Indifferent? Something about the way he held his eyes made her think he felt the same rush of intensity she did.
No, she had to find a way to smother the electricity zinging through her veins. Shaun was a cop, and she would never, ever date anyone in law enforcement. In the E.R., she had seen what that profession did to the families left behind, had tried to heal the unhealable pain of losing a fine man to a criminal's gunshot. She knew her heart wouldn't be able to handle it.
She also knew she wouldn't be able to handle him.
As he approached, his scent wrapped around her—a thread of well-tooled leather, a hint of pine, a deep note of musk—a combination uniquely Shaun's. "Hi, Shaun." She gave a polite smile that hopefully masked the way he made her feel so…alive.
"Hi, Monica." The deep voice had a slight gravelly edge to it, promising danger and excitement. "It's been a long time."
"I didn't know you were back in Sonoma."
"I quit the border patrol," he said softly.
"What?" Surprised, she looked up at him and immediately drowned in the cerulean blue sea of his straightforward gaze. Shaun had always been aggressive with his stance, with his looks—and he was that way now, standing a little too close to her, staring a little too intently. "I.. " She cleared her throat. "I thought you loved the border patrol. The last time we met, you were so enthusiastic about it."
"I'm back to spend time with my family. I'm thinking of applying for the Sonoma Police Department."
"Not as exciting as the border patrol," she remarked, looking for his reaction.
He shrugged.
How strange. He still had that bad-boy air about him, but there was something that reminded her of a wounded dog. No, a wolf. A wounded wolf. She wanted to reach out to him, to help him if she could.
Wounded wolves still bite. She had to remind herself that he wasn't her type. She had to stop now so she wouldn't go any deeper. She wouldn't submit herself to the kind of pain she'd seen in the Emergency Room. She shook off the memory of a cop's widow's shaking shoulders and forced her mind back to the present.
Then something invisible raking along her spine made her jerk. She turned to look out again through the glass of the restaurant doors but only saw the same view of Sonoma City Hall, made of local quarried stone that looked more flint-gray today under the overcast skies. Different tourists from the last time she'd looked walked around the grounds now.
She was being paranoid. She had to get a hold of herself.
She turned back to Mr. O'Neill. "The last time we talked, you mentioned how you were going to sell the Fontana Hotel in Marin and do consulting work rather than buy another hotel. Do you know when that's going to happen?"
Mr. O'Neill smiled at her. "Does your question have anything to do with the rumors I heard that your father's going to expand the spa and add a hotel?"
Monica grinned. "Guilty as charged. I have a lunch appointment in a few minutes, but do you have time today to talk about possibly consulting for him?"
He gave her a sharp look. "Have you talked to Augustus about this yet?"
Heat like a sunburn crept up her neck. "Uh…Dad mentioned yesterday how he needed help now that he's actually decided to go forward with the hotel."
Mr. O'Neill smiled. "I do have time this afternoon." He turned to Shaun. "Did you want to come with me or pick me up later?"
"I'll come with you." His voice was light, but his blue eyes flickered to Monica.
She had to remind herself that she wanted to speak with his father, not with him. "Great. Thanks, Mr. O'Neill. Three o'clock at our house?"
"Sounds good. Who are you meeting for lunch, by the way?"
"It's a potential investor for my free children's clinic. Phillip Bromley."
Shaun's jaw suddenly tightened and his eyes became shards of ice. "The son of the CEO of Lowther Station Bank in San Francisco?"
She nodded. "His brother's a medical missionary in Kenya. I've known Phillip for a few months, but last week at the Zoe banquet, he expressed interest in my clinic and mentioned that his brother might be willing to donate his time to the clinic when he returns to the States this summer."
But Shaun was shaking his head. "You should stay away from Bromley."
"Shaun.. " Mr. O'Neill said gently.
"Why?" Monica said. "Phillip has always been perfectly civil to me." Whereas Shaun's wildness seemed to exude from him, only barely restrained by his conservative white cotton shirt and jeans.
There was also anger underlying that wildness as he answered, "It's just a mask. It's not the real him."
A mask? Monica hadn't seen that at all, and she prided herself on being able to read people rather well. She didn't particularly like Phillip—there was something about his manner that seemed too self-focused and self-serving—but she hadn't detected anything deceptive during the times they spoke to each other.
"He's dangerous," Shaun growled. "You need to stay away from him."
Shaun's commanding tone grated down her spine, and she lifted her chin to glare at his set face. "How is he dangerous?" Shaun's lips tightened briefly. "He just is. You don't know him."
"And you do?"
"Better than you do."
"Children," Mr. O'Neill said in a long-suffering voice, "play nice."
Monica backed down. Mr. O'Neill was right, she was being childish. The same fiery temper that got her into arguments with her dad was now picking fights with a man who only wanted to…what? Warn her? Protect her? She wasn't used to men like Shaun, whose life work was protecting people. Her ex-boyfriends had mostly been artists and playboys, who all seemed "soft" now compared with Shaun's solid presence.
She had to admit that his presence made her feel less uneasy, less vulnerable to the eyes that might—or might not—be watching her. She couldn't stop herself from glancing outside again, but saw no one lurking or looking at her.
At that moment, her cell phone rang, and the caller ID said it was Phillip.
"I'll talk to you later," Mr. O'Neill said quickly, giving her a peck on the cheek before letting the hovering hostess seat him and Shaun at a table.
She answered the call. "Hi, Phillip." Were his ears burning because they'd been talking about him?
"Hi, Monica. I'm sorry, but there's an overturned construction truck here on highway 121. I'll be about twenty minutes late."
"No problem. I'll be waiting."
She had the hostess seat her at a table, but stopped when she saw it was right in the center of the large windows at the front of the restaurant. She glanced out at the tourists and pedestrians on the street. No one was even looking in her direction, but she felt as if a cold hand gripped her around the throat.
"Could I get a table near the back?" she asked, and the hostess nodded and seated her at a small table at the back of the restaurant.
However, it was close to where Shaun and his father were seated. She didn't want to request another change so she sat, but it was hard for her to keep her head averted with Shaun only a few feet away to her right.
At least the horrible feeling of being watched was gone. She spent a few minutes checking her email on her phone, but then the restaurant's owner and chef, Lorianne, approached her table with a long white florist's box and a huge grin on her face. "Hey, Monica. I happened to be up front just now when this was delivered for you." Excitement radiated from her bright eyes as she sat down across from her. "Who's it from? You didn't mention a new boyfriend when I talked to you a couple weeks ago."
"I still don't have a boyfriend. Your guess is as good as mine." Monica didn't look at Shaun, but could sense him glancing at her at Lorianne's words. Really, what business was it of his? She wished she weren't so close to their table.
"Ooh, a secret admirer," Lorianne said. "Well, as owner of this fine establishment, I am entitled to view any and all flowers delivered." She winked at Monica.
A part of her was flattered by the gift. Who wouldn't be? But another part of her was wary. Who gave flowers to a woman through a delivery and not personally? Then it occurred to her that maybe Phillip had them delivered in advance of their meeting. He had seemed a bit friendly last week at the Zoe banquet, but she'd been careful not to encourage anything more than a business relationship. She hoped he didn't misinterpret her body language.
Well, she knew who it wasn't from. She tried to angle her body away from Shaun as she lifted the lid. An odd cigarette smell made her eyes burn, and she blinked away sudden tears.
In the box, nestled among white tissue paper, lay a huge dead snake.
Monica gasped and dropped the box onto the table, making the silverware rattle.
"Oh, my gosh." Lorianne's eyes were huge.
The ugliness of the gift seemed to stifle her, and Monica fought to breathe. Who would send her something so hateful, so horrible?
Print book:
Harlequin.com (Save an extra 10% with code SAVE10AFFO at checkout!)
LARGE PRINT Harlequin.com (Save an extra 10% with code SAVE10AFFO at checkout!)
BarnesandNoble.com
Amazon
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
LARGE PRINT BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Ebook:
Harlequin.com romance, fantasy and scintillating suspense books at great low prices. Save an extra 10% with code SAVE10AFFO at checkout!
Nookbook
Kindle
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Kobobooks.com
Stalker in the Shadows by
Camy Tang
"Consider this a warning."
Lately, nurse Monica Grant feels she's being watched. Followed. And then she receives a threatening letter—accompanied by a dead snake. If she doesn't stop her plans to open a free children's clinic, she'll end up dead, too. Terrified, Monica turns to former lawman Shaun O'Neill—who believes the same madman murdered his own sister five years before. She understands how much it means to the handsome, heart-guarding man to save her—and her dream. Even if he has to lure a deadly stalker out of the shadows—straight toward himself.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Someone was watching her.
Monica Grant glanced around the bustling central plaza in downtown Sonoma, California, and rubbed the back of her neck, but the ugly, prickly feeling wouldn't go away. She remembered the well-worn phrase from her Nancy Drew books—"the hair stood up on the back of her neck"—but she'd never realized how true it was. Until now.
She couldn't actually see anyone looking at her—there were tourists strolling around Sonoma City Hall and the fountain, cars driving slowly around the square, shoppers stepping in and out of the quaint shops. A few locals across the street noticed her looking at them and waved hello. She waved back with a smile, recognizing them as staff from a nearby restaurant. The Grant family's successful day spa, Joy Luck Life, had helped bring even more activity to the small tourist town, and all of her family was acquainted with most of the local business owners and staff.
But as she continued walking along the line of shops and historical buildings, the creepy feeling crawled up her shoulder blades. She whirled around suddenly, but didn't catch anyone in the act of staring at her, or ducking into a shop doorway to escape her notice.
It had been a silly thought, anyway. She wasn't a spy. She was probably imagining things.
She turned to enter Lorianne's Cafe, a popular new restaurant owned by one of her high school classmates, which served California fusion cuisine made exclusively with local produce. She thought the feeling of being watched would go away as soon as she entered the building, but an uncomfortable shaft of prickling shot down her spine. She turned to look out the restaurant's glass front doors, toward the green park area around Sonoma City Hall, but couldn't see anyone except a few tourists walking by.
"Monica Grant, are you stalking me?"
The voice, still betraying the slight Irish lilt of his homeland, made her turn. "Mr. O'Neill! I should say,you're stalking me."
Patrick O'Neill's light blue eyes creased deeply at the corners. "Seeing you at the Zoe International charity banquet last week wasn't enough. I had to get in more of your lovely company." He enfolded her in a hug that made her cheek rasp against his usual Hawaiian-print, button-down shirt. Quite a contrast to the tuxedo he'd worn at the annual dinner that Zoe International, an anti-human-slavery organization, had hosted to thank its donors.
"Are you here in Sonoma just for the day?" Monica asked. "Or are you staying overnight before you head back down to
Marin?"
"I'm here for a few days, spending time with my new grandson."
"That's right, I heard about the new baby yesterday from Aunt Becca." At first Monica had been shocked because she'd thought the new baby was Shaun's son, but quickly realized her mistake—it was Brady's son, Shaun's nephew. She hoped Aunt Becca hadn't noticed her initial stunned reaction.
"What have you been up to in the seven whole days since
I've seen you?" He tugged at a silver lock of hair on his wide forehead. It brought back an image of Shaun doing the same gesture.
She forced her mind away from his eldest son. "I'm still taking care of Dad since he had his stroke."
"He's doing better? Last week, we were interrupted before I could ask you about him."
"He still needs a live-in nurse, but I'm also taking him to physical therapy several times a week, and he's gaining mobility back. He doesn't need me quite as much, which is good, because my sister Naomi announced her engagement six weeks ago. She's planning her wedding, so sometimes when she has to take off work at the spa, I fill in as manager for her."
"Will she still be manager when she marries?"
"No, she's going to start her own private massage therapy business in the city, closer to her future husband's office. We're trying to hire someone to take over when she leaves, but until then.. " She had to stifle a small sigh. Because she still took care of her dad, filling in for Naomi stole precious free time that she didn't have. The spa needed to hire someone soon.
"From nurse to manager." His blue eyes were more piercing than his son's. "It doesn't sit with you well?"
His insight startled her. "I loved being an Emergency Room nurse," she said, "but I have to admit I don't regret quitting my job at Good Samaritan Hospital when Dad needed me. What I'd really like to do is run a free children's clinic for Sonoma and Napa counties."
Unlike Monica's father, Mr. O'Neill didn't roll his eyes at her. Instead, he nodded gravely. "Then you should do it, my girl. You only have one life to love."
His phrasing touched her on a deeper level, stirred up things she had left collecting on the bottom. She shifted uncomfortably, then changed gears, giving him a teasing look. "So who are you meeting for lunch? Yet another struggling hotel owner whose hotel you're going to buy and then turn into a raging success?"
"No, I'm just here having lunch with my son." He gestured behind him.
Brady, his second eldest son, lived only a few miles from Sonoma in Geyserville. Monica's gaze flickered over Mr. O'Neill's shoulder, past the hostess waiting patiently behind the desk, toward the restaurant's bar.and she froze.
Shaun O'Neill stared right back at her. Her breath stopped in her throat and seemed to hum there. She recognized the strange sensation, something she had only felt twice before in her life—at her first sight of a cherry red Lamborghini, and the very first time she'd met Shaun O'Neill, ten years ago at a Zoe International banquet.
Her heart started racing as he rose from his seat at the bar and walked toward them. His expression was unfathomable. Was he happy to see her? Indifferent? Something about the way he held his eyes made her think he felt the same rush of intensity she did.
No, she had to find a way to smother the electricity zinging through her veins. Shaun was a cop, and she would never, ever date anyone in law enforcement. In the E.R., she had seen what that profession did to the families left behind, had tried to heal the unhealable pain of losing a fine man to a criminal's gunshot. She knew her heart wouldn't be able to handle it.
She also knew she wouldn't be able to handle him.
As he approached, his scent wrapped around her—a thread of well-tooled leather, a hint of pine, a deep note of musk—a combination uniquely Shaun's. "Hi, Shaun." She gave a polite smile that hopefully masked the way he made her feel so…alive.
"Hi, Monica." The deep voice had a slight gravelly edge to it, promising danger and excitement. "It's been a long time."
"I didn't know you were back in Sonoma."
"I quit the border patrol," he said softly.
"What?" Surprised, she looked up at him and immediately drowned in the cerulean blue sea of his straightforward gaze. Shaun had always been aggressive with his stance, with his looks—and he was that way now, standing a little too close to her, staring a little too intently. "I.. " She cleared her throat. "I thought you loved the border patrol. The last time we met, you were so enthusiastic about it."
"I'm back to spend time with my family. I'm thinking of applying for the Sonoma Police Department."
"Not as exciting as the border patrol," she remarked, looking for his reaction.
He shrugged.
How strange. He still had that bad-boy air about him, but there was something that reminded her of a wounded dog. No, a wolf. A wounded wolf. She wanted to reach out to him, to help him if she could.
Wounded wolves still bite. She had to remind herself that he wasn't her type. She had to stop now so she wouldn't go any deeper. She wouldn't submit herself to the kind of pain she'd seen in the Emergency Room. She shook off the memory of a cop's widow's shaking shoulders and forced her mind back to the present.
Then something invisible raking along her spine made her jerk. She turned to look out again through the glass of the restaurant doors but only saw the same view of Sonoma City Hall, made of local quarried stone that looked more flint-gray today under the overcast skies. Different tourists from the last time she'd looked walked around the grounds now.
She was being paranoid. She had to get a hold of herself.
She turned back to Mr. O'Neill. "The last time we talked, you mentioned how you were going to sell the Fontana Hotel in Marin and do consulting work rather than buy another hotel. Do you know when that's going to happen?"
Mr. O'Neill smiled at her. "Does your question have anything to do with the rumors I heard that your father's going to expand the spa and add a hotel?"
Monica grinned. "Guilty as charged. I have a lunch appointment in a few minutes, but do you have time today to talk about possibly consulting for him?"
He gave her a sharp look. "Have you talked to Augustus about this yet?"
Heat like a sunburn crept up her neck. "Uh…Dad mentioned yesterday how he needed help now that he's actually decided to go forward with the hotel."
Mr. O'Neill smiled. "I do have time this afternoon." He turned to Shaun. "Did you want to come with me or pick me up later?"
"I'll come with you." His voice was light, but his blue eyes flickered to Monica.
She had to remind herself that she wanted to speak with his father, not with him. "Great. Thanks, Mr. O'Neill. Three o'clock at our house?"
"Sounds good. Who are you meeting for lunch, by the way?"
"It's a potential investor for my free children's clinic. Phillip Bromley."
Shaun's jaw suddenly tightened and his eyes became shards of ice. "The son of the CEO of Lowther Station Bank in San Francisco?"
She nodded. "His brother's a medical missionary in Kenya. I've known Phillip for a few months, but last week at the Zoe banquet, he expressed interest in my clinic and mentioned that his brother might be willing to donate his time to the clinic when he returns to the States this summer."
But Shaun was shaking his head. "You should stay away from Bromley."
"Shaun.. " Mr. O'Neill said gently.
"Why?" Monica said. "Phillip has always been perfectly civil to me." Whereas Shaun's wildness seemed to exude from him, only barely restrained by his conservative white cotton shirt and jeans.
There was also anger underlying that wildness as he answered, "It's just a mask. It's not the real him."
A mask? Monica hadn't seen that at all, and she prided herself on being able to read people rather well. She didn't particularly like Phillip—there was something about his manner that seemed too self-focused and self-serving—but she hadn't detected anything deceptive during the times they spoke to each other.
"He's dangerous," Shaun growled. "You need to stay away from him."
Shaun's commanding tone grated down her spine, and she lifted her chin to glare at his set face. "How is he dangerous?" Shaun's lips tightened briefly. "He just is. You don't know him."
"And you do?"
"Better than you do."
"Children," Mr. O'Neill said in a long-suffering voice, "play nice."
Monica backed down. Mr. O'Neill was right, she was being childish. The same fiery temper that got her into arguments with her dad was now picking fights with a man who only wanted to…what? Warn her? Protect her? She wasn't used to men like Shaun, whose life work was protecting people. Her ex-boyfriends had mostly been artists and playboys, who all seemed "soft" now compared with Shaun's solid presence.
She had to admit that his presence made her feel less uneasy, less vulnerable to the eyes that might—or might not—be watching her. She couldn't stop herself from glancing outside again, but saw no one lurking or looking at her.
At that moment, her cell phone rang, and the caller ID said it was Phillip.
"I'll talk to you later," Mr. O'Neill said quickly, giving her a peck on the cheek before letting the hovering hostess seat him and Shaun at a table.
She answered the call. "Hi, Phillip." Were his ears burning because they'd been talking about him?
"Hi, Monica. I'm sorry, but there's an overturned construction truck here on highway 121. I'll be about twenty minutes late."
"No problem. I'll be waiting."
She had the hostess seat her at a table, but stopped when she saw it was right in the center of the large windows at the front of the restaurant. She glanced out at the tourists and pedestrians on the street. No one was even looking in her direction, but she felt as if a cold hand gripped her around the throat.
"Could I get a table near the back?" she asked, and the hostess nodded and seated her at a small table at the back of the restaurant.
However, it was close to where Shaun and his father were seated. She didn't want to request another change so she sat, but it was hard for her to keep her head averted with Shaun only a few feet away to her right.
At least the horrible feeling of being watched was gone. She spent a few minutes checking her email on her phone, but then the restaurant's owner and chef, Lorianne, approached her table with a long white florist's box and a huge grin on her face. "Hey, Monica. I happened to be up front just now when this was delivered for you." Excitement radiated from her bright eyes as she sat down across from her. "Who's it from? You didn't mention a new boyfriend when I talked to you a couple weeks ago."
"I still don't have a boyfriend. Your guess is as good as mine." Monica didn't look at Shaun, but could sense him glancing at her at Lorianne's words. Really, what business was it of his? She wished she weren't so close to their table.
"Ooh, a secret admirer," Lorianne said. "Well, as owner of this fine establishment, I am entitled to view any and all flowers delivered." She winked at Monica.
A part of her was flattered by the gift. Who wouldn't be? But another part of her was wary. Who gave flowers to a woman through a delivery and not personally? Then it occurred to her that maybe Phillip had them delivered in advance of their meeting. He had seemed a bit friendly last week at the Zoe banquet, but she'd been careful not to encourage anything more than a business relationship. She hoped he didn't misinterpret her body language.
Well, she knew who it wasn't from. She tried to angle her body away from Shaun as she lifted the lid. An odd cigarette smell made her eyes burn, and she blinked away sudden tears.
In the box, nestled among white tissue paper, lay a huge dead snake.
Monica gasped and dropped the box onto the table, making the silverware rattle.
"Oh, my gosh." Lorianne's eyes were huge.
The ugliness of the gift seemed to stifle her, and Monica fought to breathe. Who would send her something so hateful, so horrible?
Print book:
Harlequin.com (Save an extra 10% with code SAVE10AFFO at checkout!)
LARGE PRINT Harlequin.com (Save an extra 10% with code SAVE10AFFO at checkout!)
BarnesandNoble.com
Amazon
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
LARGE PRINT BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Ebook:
Harlequin.com romance, fantasy and scintillating suspense books at great low prices. Save an extra 10% with code SAVE10AFFO at checkout!
Nookbook
Kindle
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Kobobooks.com
January 13, 2012
Street Team Book List excerpt - His Steadfast Love by Golden Keyes Parsons
Camy here: Here's another book I added to my Street Team book giveaway list! You can win this book by joining my Street Team--Click here for more info!
His Steadfast Love
by
Golden Keyes Parsons
It isn't until the Civil War comes to her doorstep that Amanda Bell must choose between love and family.
It's the spring of 1861 on the Gulf Coast of Texas. Amanda never thought she would marry because of a promise she made to her dying mother, but her attraction to Captain Kent Littlefield is undeniable.
When Texas secedes from the Union, her brother Daniel aligns with the Confederate States, while Kent remains with the Union troops.
Her heart is torn between the two men she is closest to and the two sides of the conflict. Amanda prays to God for direction and support, but hears only silence. Where is God in the atrocities of war-and whose side is He on?
Amanda senses her life is at a turning point. She must trust God to deliver her family through the chaos of war with her heart and her faith intact.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Print book:
Barnes and Noble
Amazon
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Ebook:
Nookbook
Kindle
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Kobobooks.com
His Steadfast Love by
Golden Keyes Parsons
It isn't until the Civil War comes to her doorstep that Amanda Bell must choose between love and family.
It's the spring of 1861 on the Gulf Coast of Texas. Amanda never thought she would marry because of a promise she made to her dying mother, but her attraction to Captain Kent Littlefield is undeniable.
When Texas secedes from the Union, her brother Daniel aligns with the Confederate States, while Kent remains with the Union troops.
Her heart is torn between the two men she is closest to and the two sides of the conflict. Amanda prays to God for direction and support, but hears only silence. Where is God in the atrocities of war-and whose side is He on?
Amanda senses her life is at a turning point. She must trust God to deliver her family through the chaos of war with her heart and her faith intact.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Print book:
Barnes and Noble
Amazon
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Ebook:
Nookbook
Kindle
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Kobobooks.com
January 11, 2012
Redux: Reading goals for 2012
Captain's Log, Stardate 01.11.2012
I know I just posted about this but I read this post by Danica Favorite and am inspired to challenge myself with new reading goals this year.
1) Read the 4 Love Inspired Suspense novels each month. I should be doing this already, but I've been bad about keeping up with them. I'll usually only read two Love Inspired Suspense novels each month, and after looking at my book catalog, I realized that I've been reading all backlist books, not current ones. So I will be trying to read all current Love Inspired Suspense novels each month.
2) Start at least one new-to-me author each month. I copied this straight from Danica because I think it's a fantastic idea. I also recently lamented on Facebook and Twitter that I had a ton of free ebooks on my Nook but I never seem to get around to reading them. Well, here's my chance, because most of the free ebooks I get are new-to-me authors whose books I got for free because I wanted to try them.
3) Start at least one old book from my TBR pile each month. And let me confess, my TBR pile ranges in the thousands.
You will notice the language on numbers 2 and 3: Start, not read. Meaning, if I start a book and it doesn't interest me, I reserve the right to not finish it and still count it toward my reading goal for the month. Aren't I devious????
The reality is that I'm a slow reader. I'm not as slow as some, but I'm definitely not as fast as Danica and some other readers who can read a Love Inspired in an hour. (I know! Don't you hate her???)
I don't have the time to spend on a book that doesn't captivate me. Some of you will gasp, but since I have so little reading time these days, because I do so much writing instead, I have to be very protective of the time I do set aside for reading.
Now, in order to accomplish these lofty reading goals, I realized today after talking with my friend Dineen Miller that I need to set small, attainable goals each week or each day.
So I will commit to at least 30 minutes of reading each day. I will set my timer and not do anything else but read. (That actually sounds heavenly to me. I have a feeling that won't be a problem!)
If I read 30 minutes a day, that's three and a half hours of reading each week. I can definitely finish a book in three and a half hours, depending on the book. I might even get a book and a half done each week. I think this will allow me to get 6 books done a month.
What do you think?
Click here to join the conversation on Goodreads!
I know I just posted about this but I read this post by Danica Favorite and am inspired to challenge myself with new reading goals this year.
1) Read the 4 Love Inspired Suspense novels each month. I should be doing this already, but I've been bad about keeping up with them. I'll usually only read two Love Inspired Suspense novels each month, and after looking at my book catalog, I realized that I've been reading all backlist books, not current ones. So I will be trying to read all current Love Inspired Suspense novels each month.
2) Start at least one new-to-me author each month. I copied this straight from Danica because I think it's a fantastic idea. I also recently lamented on Facebook and Twitter that I had a ton of free ebooks on my Nook but I never seem to get around to reading them. Well, here's my chance, because most of the free ebooks I get are new-to-me authors whose books I got for free because I wanted to try them.
3) Start at least one old book from my TBR pile each month. And let me confess, my TBR pile ranges in the thousands.
You will notice the language on numbers 2 and 3: Start, not read. Meaning, if I start a book and it doesn't interest me, I reserve the right to not finish it and still count it toward my reading goal for the month. Aren't I devious????
The reality is that I'm a slow reader. I'm not as slow as some, but I'm definitely not as fast as Danica and some other readers who can read a Love Inspired in an hour. (I know! Don't you hate her???)
I don't have the time to spend on a book that doesn't captivate me. Some of you will gasp, but since I have so little reading time these days, because I do so much writing instead, I have to be very protective of the time I do set aside for reading.
Now, in order to accomplish these lofty reading goals, I realized today after talking with my friend Dineen Miller that I need to set small, attainable goals each week or each day.
So I will commit to at least 30 minutes of reading each day. I will set my timer and not do anything else but read. (That actually sounds heavenly to me. I have a feeling that won't be a problem!)
If I read 30 minutes a day, that's three and a half hours of reading each week. I can definitely finish a book in three and a half hours, depending on the book. I might even get a book and a half done each week. I think this will allow me to get 6 books done a month.
What do you think?
Click here to join the conversation on Goodreads!
January 6, 2012
Street Team Book List excerpt - The Rose of Winslow Street by Elizabeth Camden
Camy here: Here's another book I added to my Street Team book giveaway list! You can win this book by joining my Street Team--Click here for more info!
The Rose of Winslow Street
by
Elizabeth Camden
The last thing Libby Sawyer and her father expected upon their return from their summer home was to find strangers inhabiting a house that had been in their family for decades. Widower Michael Dobrescu brought his family from Romania to the town of Colden, Massachusetts with a singular purpose: to claim the house willed to him long ago. Since neither party has any intention of giving up their claim, a fierce legal battle ensues between the two families.
When important documents go missing from the house, Libby suspects Michael is the culprit. Determined to discover the truth behind the stolen papers, Libby investigates, only to find more layers of mystery surrounding Michael and his family. Despite their rivalry, Libby finds herself developing feelings for this man with the mysterious past.
As a decision about the house looms in the courts, Libby must weigh the risks of choosing to remain loyal to her family or give her heart to a man whose intentions and affections are less than certain.
Excerpt of chapter one:
The Rose of Winslow Street
Print book:
Barnes and Noble
Amazon
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Ebook:
Nookbook
Kindle
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
The Rose of Winslow Street by
Elizabeth Camden
The last thing Libby Sawyer and her father expected upon their return from their summer home was to find strangers inhabiting a house that had been in their family for decades. Widower Michael Dobrescu brought his family from Romania to the town of Colden, Massachusetts with a singular purpose: to claim the house willed to him long ago. Since neither party has any intention of giving up their claim, a fierce legal battle ensues between the two families.
When important documents go missing from the house, Libby suspects Michael is the culprit. Determined to discover the truth behind the stolen papers, Libby investigates, only to find more layers of mystery surrounding Michael and his family. Despite their rivalry, Libby finds herself developing feelings for this man with the mysterious past.
As a decision about the house looms in the courts, Libby must weigh the risks of choosing to remain loyal to her family or give her heart to a man whose intentions and affections are less than certain.
Excerpt of chapter one:
The Rose of Winslow Street
Print book:
Barnes and Noble
Amazon
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Ebook:
Nookbook
Kindle
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
January 3, 2012
Street Team Book List excerpt - The Maid of Fairbourne Hall by Julie Klassen
Camy here: Here's another book I added to my Street Team book giveaway list! You can win this book by joining my Street Team--Click here for more info!
The Maid of Fairbourne Hall
by
Julie Klassen
Pampered Margaret Macy flees London in disguise to escape pressure to marry a dishonorable man. With no money and nowhere else to go, she takes a position as a housemaid in the home of Nathaniel Upchurch, a suitor she once rejected in hopes of winning his dashing brother. Praying no one will recognize her, Margaret fumbles through the first real work of her life. If she can last until her next birthday, she will gain an inheritance from a spinster aunt--and sweet independence. But can she remain hidden as a servant even when prying eyes visit Fairbourne Hall?
Observing both brothers as an "invisible" servant, Margaret learns she may have misjudged Nathaniel. Is it too late to rekindle his admiration? And when one of the family is nearly killed, Margaret alone discovers who was responsible. Should she come forward, even at the risk of her reputation and perhaps her life? And can she avoid an obvious trap meant to force her from hiding?
On her journey from wellborn lady to servant to uncertain future, Margaret must learn to look past appearances and find the true meaning of "serve one another in love."
Excerpt of chapter one:
The Maid of Fairbourne Hall
Print book:
Barnes and Noble
Amazon
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Ebook:
Nookbook
Kindle
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
The Maid of Fairbourne Hallby
Julie Klassen
Pampered Margaret Macy flees London in disguise to escape pressure to marry a dishonorable man. With no money and nowhere else to go, she takes a position as a housemaid in the home of Nathaniel Upchurch, a suitor she once rejected in hopes of winning his dashing brother. Praying no one will recognize her, Margaret fumbles through the first real work of her life. If she can last until her next birthday, she will gain an inheritance from a spinster aunt--and sweet independence. But can she remain hidden as a servant even when prying eyes visit Fairbourne Hall?
Observing both brothers as an "invisible" servant, Margaret learns she may have misjudged Nathaniel. Is it too late to rekindle his admiration? And when one of the family is nearly killed, Margaret alone discovers who was responsible. Should she come forward, even at the risk of her reputation and perhaps her life? And can she avoid an obvious trap meant to force her from hiding?
On her journey from wellborn lady to servant to uncertain future, Margaret must learn to look past appearances and find the true meaning of "serve one another in love."
Excerpt of chapter one:
The Maid of Fairbourne Hall
Print book:
Barnes and Noble
Amazon
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
Ebook:
Nookbook
Kindle
Christianbook.com
BOOKSAMILLION.COM
December 18, 2011
You can now give Nookbooks!
Captain's Log, Stardate 12.18.2011
I am so happy! My beloved Barnes and Noble has finally gotten with the program and now allows people to give Nookbooks to others!
Okay, I won't bash Amazon because Amazon is like chocolate to me--indispensable--but I had been very sad that Barnes and Noble wouldn't let people give Nookbooks to others when Amazon would.
I have lots of people on my Street Team who love ebooks, but when a Street Team member was able to claim one of my books as a prize, I could only offer Kindle ebooks and not Nookbooks, and if they had a Nook and not a Kindle, they were out of luck.
However, now I can give away Nookbooks! Hooray!
This also means that OTHER PEOPLE can give away Nookbooks! Hooray for me!!!!!!
(Okay, so that's a bit selfish. Sue me. I love receiving books as gifts!!!!!)
(Oh, I just realized that it also means other people can give my novels away as Nookbooks to others! Woohoo! Go buy my books and give them to people for Christmas! Nookbooks and Kindle books are instant delivery to a person's email Inbox, and they don't need a Nook or Kindle to read them--they can read the ebook on their computer!)
Sorry, sorry, my seizure of wild self-promotion has now passed.
Anyway, I'm VERY happy now that people can give Nookbooks!
I am so happy! My beloved Barnes and Noble has finally gotten with the program and now allows people to give Nookbooks to others!Okay, I won't bash Amazon because Amazon is like chocolate to me--indispensable--but I had been very sad that Barnes and Noble wouldn't let people give Nookbooks to others when Amazon would.
I have lots of people on my Street Team who love ebooks, but when a Street Team member was able to claim one of my books as a prize, I could only offer Kindle ebooks and not Nookbooks, and if they had a Nook and not a Kindle, they were out of luck.
However, now I can give away Nookbooks! Hooray!
This also means that OTHER PEOPLE can give away Nookbooks! Hooray for me!!!!!!
(Okay, so that's a bit selfish. Sue me. I love receiving books as gifts!!!!!)
(Oh, I just realized that it also means other people can give my novels away as Nookbooks to others! Woohoo! Go buy my books and give them to people for Christmas! Nookbooks and Kindle books are instant delivery to a person's email Inbox, and they don't need a Nook or Kindle to read them--they can read the ebook on their computer!)
Sorry, sorry, my seizure of wild self-promotion has now passed.
Anyway, I'm VERY happy now that people can give Nookbooks!
December 14, 2011
A Rant About Out of Print Books
Captain's Log, Stardate 12.14.2011
Forgive me, but this is going to be a full-on rant.
My friend let me borrow her copy of Practice to Deceive by Patricia Veryan, a Georgian romance author who died a few years ago. Practice to Deceive was published in hardcover in 1985 (with a rather nice pencil drawn cover) with one other English version, mass market paperback with a truly horrid cover in 1986.
Practice to Deceive is the first book in the Golden Chronicles, one of the Georgian romantic intrigue series that Patricia Veryan was famous for. The series premise is fascinating--in the months after the Jacobite rebellion in England, there was a six part cypher that pointed to the location of Prince Charlie's treasure and also the names of his financial supporters. The series is about the six parts, each carried by a different man, escaping the agents of the Crown.
The book was incredibly entertaining, but I also knew, even before I started reading it, that the copy I held was extremely rare. The paperback copy sells for a minimum of $45 on Amazon! It's because the book is out of print, and the publisher no longer prints copies of it. Therefore, the few copies left out there are for sale for exorbitant prices.
I'm returning my friend's copy to her (carefully stored in a plastic bag to protect it), and I'd like my own copy of this book but I can't afford it! I think it's ridiculous how some of these out of print books are being sold for so much!
Most of the time, readers just want to read the story, they're not out to collect the books. Readers might want a copy (like I do) to reread occasionally, or to let someone else borrow it. Most typical readers don't need pristine copies to keep on their climate-controlled collectors' bookshelves.
(Okay, well, I'll admit I'd prefer a nice copy but only because I'm a germaphobe, not because I need a pristine copy to collect. But I'll settle for a used copy just to have the book to reread.)
Why do books go out of print? Why can't publishers go through the contract processes to reprint them? Why do online book sellers have to charge an arm and a leg?
Why is it so hard for a reader to read a good book???????
If you'd like, you can also contribute to the discussion on my Goodreads group.
Forgive me, but this is going to be a full-on rant.
My friend let me borrow her copy of Practice to Deceive by Patricia Veryan, a Georgian romance author who died a few years ago. Practice to Deceive was published in hardcover in 1985 (with a rather nice pencil drawn cover) with one other English version, mass market paperback with a truly horrid cover in 1986.Practice to Deceive is the first book in the Golden Chronicles, one of the Georgian romantic intrigue series that Patricia Veryan was famous for. The series premise is fascinating--in the months after the Jacobite rebellion in England, there was a six part cypher that pointed to the location of Prince Charlie's treasure and also the names of his financial supporters. The series is about the six parts, each carried by a different man, escaping the agents of the Crown.
The book was incredibly entertaining, but I also knew, even before I started reading it, that the copy I held was extremely rare. The paperback copy sells for a minimum of $45 on Amazon! It's because the book is out of print, and the publisher no longer prints copies of it. Therefore, the few copies left out there are for sale for exorbitant prices.
I'm returning my friend's copy to her (carefully stored in a plastic bag to protect it), and I'd like my own copy of this book but I can't afford it! I think it's ridiculous how some of these out of print books are being sold for so much!
Most of the time, readers just want to read the story, they're not out to collect the books. Readers might want a copy (like I do) to reread occasionally, or to let someone else borrow it. Most typical readers don't need pristine copies to keep on their climate-controlled collectors' bookshelves.
(Okay, well, I'll admit I'd prefer a nice copy but only because I'm a germaphobe, not because I need a pristine copy to collect. But I'll settle for a used copy just to have the book to reread.)
Why do books go out of print? Why can't publishers go through the contract processes to reprint them? Why do online book sellers have to charge an arm and a leg?
Why is it so hard for a reader to read a good book???????
If you'd like, you can also contribute to the discussion on my Goodreads group.
