Kay Springsteen's Blog, page 16

What's Elusive in Elusive Echoes?

How can two people be on the same road and not even know it?  FROM ELUSIVE ECHOES CHAPTER ONE:

Melanie slipped Sean's favorite draft in front of him with a smile.

Just being near him made her heart somersault. His pale blond hair, so similar in shade to hers, was longer than usual. It curled on the ends and she wanted to get her fingers tangled in it. His jade green eyes watched her hand where she was wiping up a few droplets of water. She wished he'd watch something other than her hands, but she seldom caught him checking her out these days.

"Ry's got me on Sandy-babysitting-duty tomorrow morning." He swirled his beer, eyes down. Amber liquid sloshed against the edges of the mug. Mel reached for the rag beneath the bar, just in case, but he stopped the restless movement and took a drink.

"It can't be that bad. It's not like she's a little kid you'll have to chase around or even entertain."

"That's what she told me." When he looked up, his engaging grin was back. "Though I'm not so sure about not having to chase her. She's been on a tear through the house lately, getting the nursery ready, re-doing her and Ry's room. She reorganized the kitchen cabinets and cleaned up the pantry today. Dad keeps complaining that he can't find anything in the cupboards."

Melanie giggled. "Maybe she'll clean out the attic tomorrow."

"Aw jeez, I hope not. Ry'll kill me." Sean took a drink.

"It's a light crowd tonight," Mel said, running a forefinger along Sean's arm. "LeeAnn can close. Would you like to come upstairs for a while?"

He looked past Mel to the other barmaid. "How's she working out?"

Mel shrugged and followed his gaze. LeeAnn Shannon wore her dark auburn curls in a pony tail that sprayed from the top of her head like a fountain. She wore heavy blue eyeshadow and dark eyeliner, probably under the mistaken impression that so much blue highlighted her pale blue eyes. She was full-figured and her tight blue jeans only emphasized the outline of her wide hips. A skimpy green top hugged her bustline just a little too tightly, showing off an extra roll under her bra. Earrings that appeared to be made of  multicolored confetti strung together by thin gold wire dangled from her earlobes, almost to her shoulders. Mel could only hope pieces of that confetti didn't drop into anyone's drink. She'd stopped asking the girl to wear something with less likelihood to shed after her third day working at Valentine's, since LeeAnn apparently wasn't listening anyway.

Mel sighed. Sandy wouldn't have tolerated the blatant defiance. LeeAnn's smile looked a bit forced as she slammed a shot down in front of one of the regulars. Mel wondered what the man had said to set the other girl off this time. She didn't field the sexual innuendo and sometimes outright lewd suggestions very well.

Mel looked back at Sean and shrugged. "Well, she's no Sandy but she's a body to help with serving when she doesn't call out." Rubbing a finger back and forth along Sean's arm, Mel was pleased to see goosebumps rise beneath her touch. "So how about it? You want to have some dessert in my place?"

Sean rubbed his chin, his "no" tell. Disappointment flared before he even answered. Most times she hated that her grifter father had taught her to read people so well. It usually just made her disappointment double up on her.

"I'd better get home." Sean drained the last of his beer. "I don't know what time Ryan wants to get started tomorrow but I'll have stock to take care of before they leave."

He glanced up at her and smiled. It was far from the look of heated desire she craved.

"I'll walk you out." She wished her heart didn't feel like it had been trod on. Rejection sucked.

Mel snagged her sweater from just inside the kitchen while Sean waited. She crossed the room wishing she could carry off Sandy's sexy saunter. Maybe then Sean would really see her. Sometimes he made her feel like someone's vanilla-cream little sister.

"How's the horse rehabbing going?" she asked as they traversed the parking lot.

"Really good, actually." As he always did when talking horses, Sean became animated. "One of my rehabs is about to be put up for sale. Got some weight back on her. Sweet-tempered little thing now no one's beating on her. I almost want to keep her for you." He shrugged. "But you never really get much chance to come out and ride, I guess."

Mel's heart did a cartwheel. "I could make time to come out. If you'd like me to, that is." She looked up at him as they approached his truck. "Would you like me to?"

Sean rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah! If you come out before next week we can see if you and Lacey get along."

Gosh, he looked so happy. And that made her happy. When he leaned in for a kiss, she took a step forward and tucked herself tightly into his solid embrace where she always felt safe. He sucked in a breath but didn't pull back. Feeling a little bold, she snaked her arms around his waist and slanted closer still.

The kiss started out very chaste as usual, but Mel was feeling courageous for once. As he began to pull back, she outlined his lips with her tongue. His hands on her shoulders tightened and he pulled her back against him, deepening their kiss, stroking her tongue with his. His breaths came in ragged gasps and he trembled.

Score one for the home team. Finally.

Mel's nerve fibers buzzed like a hundred honey bees hitting the mother lode of purple flowering clover. She clutched his waist, shivering at the way his muscles jumped under her hands. Sean slipped his hand beneath her sweater, around to the small of her back, and pulled her closer. His hand was hot through the thin material of her blouse.

A physical ache spurred by emotional need welled within her. With a low, feral moan against her lips, Sean turned them around and pressed her against the door of his pickup. Her toes barely touched the ground. Mel angled her head for a deeper kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck. Sean hissed through his teeth when she wiggled. He pulled back slowly, holding himself completely still for a minute. Then he let her slide down his body until her feet rested on the ground again.

"You're killing me here, Mel," he whispered, his voice quaking. "One of these days, we gotta do something about this—you and me."

"It's not so late yet. My room's still open."

That was the moment she lost him and she could have kicked herself. He stepped back a foot or so, kissed her on the forehead. His guard was back in place. They had just shared a very passionate embrace and he'd definitely been turned on. Now, if he felt any sort of desire for her at all, she couldn't see it. Or feel it, the way he kept himself angled away from her. Darn it! He was so careful with her. Always keeping himself just one or two steps out of reach.

Mel sighed. She couldn't remember a time since they'd been teenagers when she hadn't wanted to be Sean's girl. Yet they never seemed to get beyond a few heated kisses before he hightailed it in the opposite direction. Sometimes it was hard to tell if he really wanted to kiss her or if he was just being polite.

"Maybe I'll see you tomorrow, then?" As always she felt a little anxious about his answer, though she usually tried to cover her anxiety with an attitude of nonchalance.

He smiled and gave her a peck on the cheek with one last warm

hug. Then he rubbed the back of his neck and cast a sheepish glance her

way. "Hope so."

She breathed more easily when she caught his "yes" tell. He always seemed just a little on the shy side when he said yes to something that was important to him.

Sean waited for her to cross the parking lot again before he left. He probably didn't know she routinely stood at the door and watched his taillights disappear.

Mel slid the sweater from her shoulders. A white envelope fell to

the floor and she groaned. Her brother's letter. LeeAnn must have seen it

by the register and slipped it into her pocket.

Shaking her head, she tore open the envelope as she walked into the kitchen. The letter was typed and unsigned. If not for the address on the letter, written in her brother's familiar careful script, it might have come from anyone. But it had come from her brother, and read simply, "You should be interested in this."

Wearing a frown, she looked in the envelope, and pulled out an article cut from a newspaper. For no reason other than this was her family, her hands were shaking as she unfolded the clipping. The headline was to the point: Prominent Oklahoma City Attorney Indicted on Adoption Fraud and Baby Selling Scheme.

Letter and article slipped from Mel's frozen fingers.

****

The sitting room light was still on when Sean pulled in to the ranch yard. That meant Ryan was waiting up for him. Aw, man, just what he probably needed and didn't want. Sean kicked the door of his truck closed with more force than necessary.

"Dang, bro. Shoot it and put it out of your misery already," said Ryan from the shadows. Sean almost dropped his keys. "Jeez, man. If you're gonna jump

me, can it wait 'til we're inside? It's freezing out here."

"It's October. It's supposed to be freezing." A lighter flared, harshly illuminating Ryan's face in the glow. The acrid smell of a cigar wafted over Sean. "Didn't you eat enough smoke when you worked in L.A.?" He started walking for the house.

Ryan took a puff. "You'd think. But I guess a year or so of chatting

with Dad on the porch while he lights up got me in the habit." He took

another puff. "So what's eatin' at you tonight?" He stared at the lit end of

the cigar. The gesture was so like their father's, Sean groaned.

"Nothing."

"Horse puckey."

Sean tried to remember why he'd missed his brother for sixteen

years. He sighed. May as well get it over with. "It's Mel."

Ryan frowned. "Get in a fight?"

"Nope. We never fight." Sean blew out an exasperated breath.

What the heck? Maybe talking it out would take some of his edge off.

"She keeps hinting at wanting something more."

Ryan stepped back to eye Sean with a critical eye. "More than

what? Like she wants to get married?"

Sean stopped walking at the bottom porch step. "No, not exactly. As in she invited me to her place tonight, and not so we could watch a little TV."

Ryan's mouth fell open. The cigar he'd just lit tumbled to the ground in a shower of sparks, and with a muttered oath, he stooped to retrieve it. Then he scrutinized Sean. "And yet the man came home. Interesting. So, you told her no?"

Sean nodded.

"Why?" Ryan's gaze drifted below Sean's waist. "Everything—ah—all . . . works, right?"

Irritation flared. "Yes. Everything works. Get your mind out of the

gutter, man. It's not always about sex."

Ryan's face registered total disbelief. "It's almost always about

sex. You've been . . . um, seeing Mel steady for over two years now,

right?"

Here it came. The big brother lecture about getting laid. Sean lifted

a shoulder. "Yeah, 'bout that."

"And you've—never?"

"Nope. Never did the deed," Sean said impatiently. "Satisfied?"

"No, I'm not satisfied!" Ryan took another puff of his cigar. Then he frowned. "Ah, when you say never, do you mean never-never or just never-with-Mel?"

Sean glared at his brother, just for one second wishing Ryan was

back in L.A. "Jeez, Ryan! Not that it's your business, but yes, I've had

sex. It's just—things are different with Mel."

"You don't like her?"

Sean turned, looked out into the darkness. "I love her. I want everything with her. I want what you and Sandy have with her."

"Then I don't get it," said his brother, as if the answer was just that

simple. "Ask her to marry you."

Sean turned back. "I got nothing to offer her, Ryan." There. Now it was out. Sean didn't know what was up with Mel lately, but something was off and he felt like they were drifting in separate directions. Yet he couldn't begin to sort things out and fight for her without having his own life together. Every time he tried to bring up the possibility of a future together, she turned it around and made it about something physical. She clearly wanted a physical relationship, and so did he, but he wanted more than that. Sean wasn't made for casual. He was done with unsatisfying, going-nowhere relationships.

Ryan looked stunned. "Nothing to offer? There's your share of the ranch. We're turning things around. You've got your horse rehab business. You earn a decent income. You'll be able to take care of a family."

"And we can share my bedroom here, all cozy with everyone in the main house." Sean blew out a frustrated breath and kicked at the dirt. "It's already crowded with you and Sandy, Dad, Ricky, and now your baby on the way."

"That can change, Sean." Irritation had crept into Ryan's voice.

"You don't have to live in the main house to keep working the ranch.

Heck, live in town at her place. Just get engaged, let her know you want to

be with her. The two of you can work out the details later. And for the

love of mercy, when she asks you up to her place again . . . go."

Sean shook his head. "Can't."

"Why?"

"Because Mel's worth more than a few vague promises and getting hot between the sheets. I thought you would get that." Sean turned on his heel and stomped onto the porch and through the front door, leaving Ryan behind.

****

Heartsight:  Astraea Press, Amazon, Barnes & Noble

Matrimonial Mayhem:  Astraea Press, Amazon, Barnes & Noble

Lifeline Echoes:  Astraea Press, Amazon, Barnes & Noble

Elusive Echoes:  Astraea Press, Amazon, Barnes & Noble

Lifeline Echoes print edition

Heartsight print edition

Check out the Astraea Press Sales this week! Lifeline Echoes and Heartsight are both on sale – only $1.99 each. For a complete rundown of the sale, see what Kim Bowman has to say.

It's All About the Readers

Without readers, there would be little use for writers. As a way of connecting to readers and getting to know new friends, I'm opening Thursdays up for people who love to read, and love to talk about it. Feel free to use the CONTACT ME tab above to write me if you'd like to be a guest on my blog to talk about reading. In the meantime, meet the first reader to guest on my blog, Sue Galuski.

The Men of Orson's Folly-Sean

We first met Sean as the baby brother in Lifeline Echoes, when he welcomed Ryan home:

The skinny boy's frame had become lean and muscular. Glow-in-the dark blond hair had toned down some but Ryan noticed it still had a tendency to curl at the ends even though his brother kept it cut short. Sean had been thirteen when Ryan left. He'd grown into a man Ryan scarcely recognized.

Sean's tension visibly drained. His smile started slowly, in his eyes first, then spread to his mouth, where it bloomed into a full grin.

"Ry!" In two long-legged strides, Sean was in front of him. "Oh man, it's good to see you!"

In a move too sudden for Ryan to dodge, Sean folded him into a bear hug and lifted him off his feet, his carefree laughter driving out the last vestiges of Ryan's uncertainty.

…showed his brother up:

"Lost your touch with horses there, big brother?"

Ryan spun around. Sean leaned indolently in the doorway.

"Horses? No." Ry shook his head. "I can still handle a horse. That?" He jerked a thumb at the stall behind him. "Is not a horse. That is a demonic replica of a horse."

Sean pushed off the doorjamb and sauntered toward his brother. Inside the stall, the agitated snorts of the big roan continued but the kicking had stopped.

"Domingo? This guy's a sweetheart. You just gotta speak his language." He held up an apple.

"You mean you have to bribe him," Ryan said flatly.

Sean smiled and held out his free hand for the lead rein.

Ryan stood well back when Sean eased open the stall door and stepped inside, apple first. When the horse took the apple, Sean clipped the lead to the halter.

…took his brother out on the town:

Ryan took a second look at the other girl. "Whoa! Is that little Melanie Mitchell?" he asked his brother.

Sean nodded, an eager grin splitting his face. So that's the way it rolled.

Ryan whistled appreciatively. "She sure grew up well." The poke in the ribs went a long way toward making him feel like a big brother again.

…told his brother the hard truth:

Ryan winced. "I didn't think Dad ever understood any of it. I figured he'd have tried to stop us so I never gave him the opportunity, never told him much."

Violence born from sixteen years of hurt and loneliness guided Sean's punch into the wooden beam, so close Ryan felt the whoosh of air passing. Sean's green eyes registered satisfaction when Ryan flinched away from the blow next to his head.

"You don't give Dad enough credit," Sean grated.

…had his brother's back:

He was propelled on waves of obvious aggression, his obedient wife trotting in his wake, as though on a short leash. Sean stepped into Brody's path, but the old man brushed him off, his eyes never leaving Ryan.

Sandy bit her lip. Brody MacKay had always made her a bit uneasy. Seeing him now, with obvious malevolent intent on his features, her sense of uneasiness increased tenfold. Somewhere in his fifties, he was a formidable antagonist, as big as his son but with a coldness that never failed to chill Sandy to her core.

Ryan made a barely perceptible hand motion, warning Sean to stay out of it. The younger McGee stepped back, but he didn't go far. He had his brother's back.

…and gave his brother support:

A Styrofoam cup of something hot was pressed into his hand. Ryan looked down at the coffee then up to Sean's troubled face. His brother shoved a sandwich into his other hand.

"Mel and Charlie brought food." Sean closed his hand over Ryan's shoulder, giving a little shake. "You have to eat, Ry, just a couple of bites. You're a liability if you're running on empty."

NOW…it's Sean's turn. Find out why frogs hold special meaning to him:

He didn't think he'd ever be able to look at another frog anywhere without thinking of Melanie Mitchell's underwear.

Why he's talking about names:

When he noticed everyone was now eyeing him expectantly, he realized he'd have to say something. "Ah, um . . . well, I've always been partial to Grace."

How he handles difficult topics of conversation:

"Are you and Mel doing it?" Embarrassment leaked like cherry-colored paint to stain the kid's freckled face.

How he handles stress:

Her lips, so warm and welcoming, her body so soft and his for the taking. He'd never felt more alive than he did as he pinned her against the bar and lost himself in the passion that always hovered between them like an ion-charged storm, ready to erupt with thunder. She went limp in his arms with a moan as he claimed the affirmation of her life that he needed for his own to continue.

And why he's about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

Elusive Echoes, Available Now, Astraea Press, Amazon, Barnes & Noble

Lifeline Echoes, currently on sale for $1.99

The F-Bomb and other Manuscript Intrusions

I write mainly sweet romance and I enjoy doing so. I do, however, read a mixture of books at a variety of graphic levels. I ask of the books I read only that they make sense and that the elements included be present to show characterization or to move the story forward. When something is placed in a story simply because it's a trend the writer appears to be cashing in on, it becomes obvious to me, and it detracts from the story. This is true in terms of sexual explicitness, graphic language, and even paranormal elements.

Characterizing a hero or heroine as a sailor-style cursing fiend doesn't mean that you have to demonstrate every graphic curse in thought or dialogue. In fact, a few peppered words will leave a greater impact on the reader than if every page is filled with cursing. The F-bomb I'm referring to in this case isn't the one you might be thinking of. It's F-requency. If you use a word or type of word too frequently, the reader will begin to gloss over it and when you need it to increase the meaning or signal increased tension/danger/heat, you won't have anything left. This holds true whether your character uses graphic cursing or fluffy words.

I've often seen questions from other writers – How much is too much ___ (insert topic)? They are looking for the easy formula. How far can they go in sexually explicit scenes? How much foul language can they include? All publishers have guidelines. These range from very strict to fairly lax. So the easy answer to these questions is know the publisher you're aiming at.

On a personal level, however, in my capacity as a writer, crit partner, and editor (at one of the aforementioned less restrictive publishing houses), the best advice I can give a writer is to develop your writing skills so as not to rely too heavily on any one element in your craft. Learn how to show the rough side of your hero without having every other word out of his mouth be the F-bomb (the original meaning). Learn how to show the sensual side of your heroine without having her lose her clothing at every turn. Unless the story is completely about sex, sprinkling some sexual tension throughout the book is great but pages and pages of sexual encounter while the bad guys are out robbing banks does nothing for your story. When you do have a hot scene to include, the one that counts (that is, the one that shows the change in relationship between the hero and heroine) will have much greater impact if you haven't written five of them previously in the same story.

And lest folks think I'm picking on the more graphic genres, anything can be overused. It doesn't have to be those elements which lead a story to be classified as high heat or graphic language. Comedy can miss the mark when used too frequently. Convenient coincidence can be too convenient. Too much mystery can leave a reader with too much confusion.

Remember, the F-requency Bomb is not your friend. Overuse of any story element only creates boredom in the minds of your readers. Be creative in the way you show things, and always be on the lookout for the next trend YOU can set.

Happy writing, happy reading!

NEWS: Elusive Echoes will be released tomorrow. To celebrate, you will find Lifeline Echoes on sale for $1.99 on all sites. Astraea Press, Amazon, Barnes & Noble

If It's Sunday, This Must Be Six (Sentences)

This week's six is from Lifeline Echoes, Ryan and Sandy's story.

Watch for Elusive Echoes, the story of Sean and Mel, to be released this Tuesday.

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Sandy swiveled in Ryan's direction, saw his contented smile, the glint in his eyes. Her gaze lowered to his awkward seat in the saddle. "You weren't watching the horses, were you?"

His smile widened and the green of his eyes darkened. He shrugged, sweeping his eyes downward, pausing occasionally to rest on her lips, her chest, her legs where they met the saddle. "I can't imagine why I'd want to watch horses when I can look at you."

Available at:  Astraea Press, Amazon, Barnes & Noble

Return to Six Sentence Sunday.

It's Friday!

 

Put on your best dress, baby….

 

 

And darlin' fix your hair up right.

 

 

 

'Cause there's a party, honey…

Way down beneath the neon lights.

(~Jeff Barry/Ellie Greenwich)

So it's Friday – what do you do on the last day of a typical work week in the summertime? Beach? Barbecue? Block party? Whether you enjoy a blowout bash with all your friends, an intimate dinner for two, or a private party with a good book, you're on the right track to a longer life if you do something fun.

Recreation. Most people read this word and think of RVs and extreme sports. It's generally accepted as any activity done for enjoyment while not working. In reality, recreation is the process of creating something again. In human terms, to participate in recreation is to renew – to re-create yourself.  Whether it's extremely physical or a mental endeavor, the process of recreating is important to the process of living. Your body needs to do something different from the norm. Your mind needs time off from work issues and daily routines. . . you need times of enjoyment interspersed through the stresses of your life. So whatever you plan to do for fun this weekend…consider it a prescription for your good health. But remember to party safely!

 

What are your plans to recreate this weekend?

It's Summer!

This is the time of year I typically pack up a camera or two, convince Camille to leave her chair, and head on into the mountains for some nature time. I like Flat Top, part of the Peaks of Otter along the Blue Ridge Parkway. The air up there is not at all heavy and humid, very fresh. The gnats that plague here in the city (sparking something not-so-affectionately called The Lynchburg Wave) do not make it up to the mountains. Butterflies do. Birds do (especially hawks).

 

The streams that bubble along up there lend a pleasant break to the hushed majesty of a mountain forest cathedral. There are places where you can look out over humanity without seeing boundary lines, without hearing angry discourse, without the blare of society's existence. You can think up there, explore – sometimes without seeing another soul.

I love my trips up to Flat Top because I always return to my life refreshed and relaxed and ready for more of the curve balls that seem to approach more and more frequently and quickly these days. It's a great experience, but don't take MY word for it. Peaks of Otter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What do you do to recreate and refresh?

The Making of a Hero(ine)

I'm in the business of writing, so I'm constantly on the lookout for a new inspiring hero. I think this gives me a slightly different perspective on the meaning of the word.

What defines heroism in your personal dictionary? Is it the police officer who breaks down the door to save a child from death at the hands of a serial killer? Is it the firefighter who bursts through a wall of flame to save a bedridden elderly woman? Or the bystander who pulls the baby from a burning car just before the car explodes? A lot of people (me included) consider our military personnel to be heroes. I'm always surprised by the news interviews with people in the above situations, when the "heroes," shrug and say, "I was just doing my job," or "Anyone would have done it."

Maybe your definition of hero is something more subtle. A teacher who puts in an exceptional effort to reach his or her students. A hospice nurse, who devotes her life to comforting the dying and their families. What about religious clergy? It's not just about sermons–it's also about community outreach and comforting the needy. A retiree or homemaker who volunteers for Meals on Wheels. A member of Big Brothers/Big Sisters of America. Someone who donates a few moments of their time helping others learn to read. My mom used to donate a day a week working in my elementary school library, and a day a month as a room mother, helping the teacher to arrange class parties and other fun events.

I believe every one of us has the potential for heroism. We don't need to rush into fires or rescue victims from would-be muggers. We all have skills we've developed over the years that we can share with others. Maybe we have a lawn mower, an extra Saturday morning, and an elderly neighbor. Or a car and a shut-in friend who needs something from the store. Maybe your neighborhood could use a little clean-up along the side of the road, or your local library needs someone to read to the children.

"The characteristic of genuine heroism is its persistency. All men have wandering impulses, fits and starts of generosity. But when you have resolved to be great, abide by yourself, and do not weakly try to reconcile yourself with the world. The heroic cannot be the common, nor the common the heroic."  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

How can you find your inner hero today?

Spring Into Summer – With a Sack Race!

For Joanne Tropello's Summer Blog Hop, click HERE.

For Spring Into Summer Blog Hop, read on…

Summer is nearly here and we're gonna have a sack race for reading!

The rules are simple. The race is 25 feet long. Comment on how far you think you'll get before you fall on your hiney – pick a number from 1 to 25. The random number generator will see if you match it and if you do, you will will a free PDF copy of Lifeline Echoes. All commenters will be entered in a drawing for a PDF copy of my June release Elusive Echoes, hot off the press, from which two winners will be drawn.

Echoes in Orson's Folly…

First, Ryan came home…

Voices form a powerful connection. The day the earth rocked LA, Sandy Wheaton became a voice lifeline over the radio for trapped firefighter, "Mick." Less than twenty four hours later, she had fallen in love with him. Shattered when she learned that rescue came too late, she sought solace Wyoming, the home state he had loved. Now, seven years later, she's made a life there as the owner of a popular local bar. But her wounds are still fresh, and she longs to let go of the past and her lost love so she can begin living again. That opportunity presents itself when the local prodigal son returns home. The attraction between them is instant. It feels like she's known him far longer than just a few days.

Sixteen years ago, Ryan McGee left home in the midst of controversy. After living through a harrowing trauma, he finally returns home when his family needs his help through some troubling times. All he wants to do is make amends with those he hurt most and to get back to the life he'd never wanted to leave in the first place. When he meets the sexy bartender, he starts thinking in terms of forever. But there's still someone out there he wants to find, someone who once believed in him and gave him hope.

Now it's Sean's turn to find love…

They're two people caught between friendship and something more; they can't move forward, and they can't let go.

Drawn together from early childhood, Sean McGee and Melanie Mitchell seemed destined for each other. But at age thirteen, Melanie was wrenched from the people she loved and forced onto a path she loathed. Sean was no stranger to people leaving, but losing Melanie devastated him. When she suddenly reappeared in Orson's Folly, Sean was overjoyed. The Melanie who came home, though, wasn't the same girl. She's got a harder edge and she's obviously hiding something, but Sean no longer knows how to reach her.

Returning to Orson's Folly as an adult, all Melanie wanted to do was forget the years she spent away. But she soon learned that going home didn't mean she could return to her old life—or her childhood sweetheart, Sean. Even their mutual attraction to one another hasn't rebuilt the bond of trust and closeness they once shared. It's been seven years since she returned and now everything Melanie wants to forget has broadsided her. She must confront her demons and relive her past in an unexpected way or risk losing the only man she's ever loved. But even if she succeeds, Sean might be lost to her anyway.

*Both are PG reads secondary to some mild violence.

Astraea Press     Amazon     Barnes & Noble

Don't forget to tell me how far you think you'll get in the 25-foot sack race!

Good Luck! Have a great summer filled with lots and lots of reading!

And please enjoy the rest of the Spring Into Summer Blog Hop!

Join the Party!

Blog hop – it's one long party – more than 30 writers, a different party at each blog. Party 'til your heels fly off:  Start here and follow the link next to the shoe at the bottom of the page to get to the next blog in the loop. Follow the links until you arrive back to me! Also find me on Let's Talk Romance.