Jan Romes's Blog, page 13
January 25, 2015
Throw caution to the wind!
Have you ever had a story in your head that begged to be told even though it wasn't your genre? I can honestly say I have -- No Sweat Pants Allowed - Wine Club. For well over a year I had the story, the characters, and the title. I casually mentioned it to the group of ladies I walk with. I also ran the idea past my husband. Their reactions? A few smiles of encouragement. (Although I have to admit, my hubby crinkled the corners of his eyes at the title) I still wasn't convinced I should step out of the romance genre to write a women's fiction story. Those of you who write will understand why I finally gave in to the constant pokes of Elaina Samuels - the main character.
I threw caution to the wind and Voila!
NO SWEAT PANTS ALLOWED - WINE CLUB is no longer just a compilation of thoughts in my head. It is now an e-book and print book!
Elaina Samuels' story would be nothing without her fellow characters: Tawny Westerfield, Stephanie Mathews, and Grace Cordray.
These four ladies are bright, sassy, sarcastic, and sometimes a bit crass. They're also warm and entertaining. And they don't always make the right choices.
Cover art by Tugboat Design
Blurb:
Suddenly single, in her forties, and eager to do what it takes to start over, Elaina Samuels meets three women with similar circumstances at a cash-for-gold event. They quickly become friends and form the No Sweat Pants Allowed - Wine Club. This newly found alliance brings about some humorous escapades, a few tears, and a bond so strong no man can break as they try to cling to the past and finally step out of their comfort zones to find a happiness they thought they'd never feel again.
I threw caution to the wind and Voila!
NO SWEAT PANTS ALLOWED - WINE CLUB is no longer just a compilation of thoughts in my head. It is now an e-book and print book!
Elaina Samuels' story would be nothing without her fellow characters: Tawny Westerfield, Stephanie Mathews, and Grace Cordray.
These four ladies are bright, sassy, sarcastic, and sometimes a bit crass. They're also warm and entertaining. And they don't always make the right choices.
.jpg)
Cover art by Tugboat Design
Blurb:
Suddenly single, in her forties, and eager to do what it takes to start over, Elaina Samuels meets three women with similar circumstances at a cash-for-gold event. They quickly become friends and form the No Sweat Pants Allowed - Wine Club. This newly found alliance brings about some humorous escapades, a few tears, and a bond so strong no man can break as they try to cling to the past and finally step out of their comfort zones to find a happiness they thought they'd never feel again.
January 23, 2015
Sometimes you just get lucky...
I love this snippet from LUCKY DUCKS...
(Claire's about to take on her first day working for Kasen Isaak)
Claire held the elevator door for two women who were running full throttle to make it.
"Thanks," they said in short-winded unison, then basically ignored her by falling into conversation with each other.
"You can do this," Clair mumbled under her breath. At least she should be able to fake her way through day one. After all, she'd stuffed her head with so much information it was almost too heavy for her neck to hold up.
She'd been repeating that pep-talk since she woke up. Instead of boosting her confidence, it made her edgy. The two cups of half-cappuccino, half-coffee she downed the second she got off the subway weren't helping either. In truth, she was as jittery as a field mouse being stalked by a tabby cat. Only instead of orange fur he was wearing a hideous suit and tie.
To distract her anxiety, Claire focused on the stray blonde hairs attached to the sleeve of her black wool blazer. She pulled them off one by one. Then she rubbed her other arm over the coat sleeve -- the arm her father pinched before she left this morning. She shook her head. Only her father would do something bizarre, like pinch her to see if she'd grown a thick skin overnight. Not surprising though since he referred to her as his "little recruit." He expected things out of her that most fathers would never dream of -- like this job. She was to latch onto to it. Embrace it. Own it.
Claire sighed soundlessly. At twenty-four she was still trying to please him. She sighed again. At the rate she was going, her father would be pushing daisies before he was truly satisfied with her chosen path in life.
The two women riding the elevator with her either forgot she was there or didn't care because they didn't hide their discussion. The stick-thin brunette with short, spiky hair bet a dollar the new girl wouldn't last a week. The other woman, a bottle-blonde in serious need of root-touchup, pulled a crisp bill from her pocket. "Five says she won't come back after today." They knuckle-bumped at the exact moment the elevator opened. They raced out leaving Claire a few seconds to ponder the comments. She had strong feeling she knew who they were betting on. Her lip curled. "Ten says you're both wrong."
Air in. Air out. Simple. At least breathing was supposed to be simple. But the sight of Kasen Isaak coming toward her with an unyielding look of annoyance made her breath catch somewhere between her lungs and windpipe.
The closer he came the more she felt like she was going to choke.
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* If you'd like to continue Claire Stone and Kasen Isaak's rocky but fun journey to happily-ever-after, you can find their story here: (Just click on one of the links below)
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
The Wild Rose Press
January 16, 2015
An interview with the awesome, Doreen Cox!
Give a warm welcome to author Doreen Cox, affectionately known as Dody!
It's great to have you here, Dody! You're a good friend, a talented writer, and someone I greatly admire. I'd like to share a little bit about you before we get to the interview.
Dody's bio:
Born with a sense of wanderlust, Doreen (Dody) Cox had a somewhat convoluted career path, working in various business-related and mental health occupations. When dementia began to debilitate her mother, Dody resigned from her job as group counselor at an alternative school in order to take on an unforeseen endeavor: become her mother's care bear. It was after her mother's death that Dody's path took another unexpected turn. She chose to honor her mother's long-held wish: for her to write a book. ADVENTURES IN MOTHER-SITTING is Dody's first publication, a memoir that emerged from the pages of her journal. Writing was a steadying outlet throughout the three years that dementia took her and her mother on an unpredictably tumultuous, yet heartwarming adventure.
Currently, Dody lives in her native Florida and works part-time, teaching a GED class comprised of multicultural adults in one of her favorite places: a library. She continues to write and has recently published A SACRED JOURNEY, a fictional short story with themes relating to nature, spirituality, hope, and dignity in death.
From Dody...
Thanks so much, Jan, for inviting me to your flavorful, interesting blog. Do you think some of your great romance-writing abilities will rub off on me? Hope so.
Okay, folks, grab a cup of coffee (or beverage of choice). It's time to pose some questions to Dody.
First, I'm going to ask you the questions most authors get asked. What inspired you to become a writer? Who's your favorite author from the past?
When I left home for college and then afterward, on to Washington, D.C., I wrote many letters to my mom. They were descriptive ones about my work and social activities, and about my thoughts and opinions about life. For years, she'd nagged me to write a book, but my life was too full for me to settle down and write...until after she died. I discovered that she'd kept every letter that I had written to her. So I wrote "Adventures in Mother-Sitting" to honor her wish.
As was my mother, I'm an avid reader of a variety of genres so determining a favorite is impossible. The main criterion for a story to be a favorite is that it "hums" for me; the author crafted the story so well that a tonal quality streams beneath the storyline. Take a look at my Goodreads page and you'll see many of my favorites.
You've written both fiction and non-fiction. Can you tell us which genre was the most difficult? And why?
For either form, getting me to sit down is the most difficult task. There's always something else to do, people to see, places to go, or tweets to check out. One author friend told me to put glue on the seat, metaphorically speaking, of course! Once I do sit down, however, I often get lost in the experience. The most difficult aspect of writing the memoir was handling my emotions; there are no windshield wipers for glasses. I even threw drafts into the garbage can on several occasions -- they always got retrieved. Writing fiction is difficult when a tug of war ensues between my muse and the critic in my head. The critic likes to be in charge, and when she is, it's difficult to turn her off. Creating a flow within the story then becomes a challenge. That's a job for my muse, and she's very patient with me. Overall, though, I love playing with stories; there is never a dull moment.
Your books are packed with emotion. I laughed and cried when I read them. Would you like to tell us a little bit about your stories?
I'm glad to hear that you reacted, Jan, to the emotion in my books -- thank you. Adventures in Mother-Sitting, is a memoir of the three years I spent as full-time caregiver to my mother. I was working as a group counselor at an alternative school when her physical and mental condition deteriorated. It was difficult to let go of a job that I enjoyed (and the income), but I didn't hesitate -- the bond with my mother had always been strong. It became my ultimate adventure for her dementia challenged me in so many ways. The unpredictability regarding the daily care habits and reactions of my mother was a daily challenge. And there were a lot of embarrassing moments when I literally erupted, had such intense meltdowns. It was like being run over by a runaway train as I couldn't stop myself from erupting. But my reactions taught me a lot. The last year of my mother's life -- when she was "my child" and approaching death -- was incredibly tough yet so amazingly rich, both emotionally and spiritually. To stay sane, I kept a journal. It was after she'd died that I saw being her care bear as a final gift from her. I expressed my gratitude by fulfilling her long-held wish: for me to write a book.
My first short story, A Sacred Journey, was fun to write though also got to me emotionally. It's transformational in theme, a fantasy with a touch of paranormal. My mother's bout with dementia acted as fertilizer for the plot. During the end phase of her dementia, she'd often woken during the night, caught up in delusions. Since her death, I'd often wondered about what was going on in my mother's mind during those delusions: who was there...where was she going, who was she? All I had gotten from her episodes were pieces. So this story depicts a fanciful yet profound possibility of an end-time. The story embodies four major themes that are central to my outlook on life: first, be willing to see everything and everyone around me with fresh eyes. Second, stay open-minded as to the element of mystery that exists in our world. Third, affirm the sacredness inherent in the time of dying -- beyond specific religious views. These three themes are enfolded in threads of humor, the fourth theme.
Dody, can you share more about Adventures in Mother-Sitting and perhaps your favorite passage?
I've just completed a revision of my memoir and published a second edition. It's been a few years since the first publication, and I'm less emotionally distressed than I was back then. Of course, the story itself is unchanged. It's had a face lift (lovely cover) and a tummy tuck. I did some deleting of redundant passages and a refinement of some of the experiences. I think my descriptions are more vividly expressed in this version because of the way I've learned to craft my words, thanks to help from several author friends and my job as a GED teacher.
(Excerpt from chapter: As the End Nears) On another day as our verbal exchange danced along its familiar path, I experienced an epiphany. Instead of remaining frustrated, I calmed as a sense of curiosity took over. Lightly stroking her arm, I did not speak another word, merely nodded and smiled directly at her. Mother calmed down, too, yet continued to babble. I was fascinated, watching the animation on her face shift to glee instead of the often-seen display of agitation. Though I remained attentive to her, aware of her animation and tone of voice, I drifted into my own stream of thought.
My fascination turned inward, thinking about how everything I did each day was so linked to Mother's needs. My focus had gotten so caught up again in deciphering her ramblings in order to determine her needs that I neglected what she really needed: merely to be heard. I continued to nod and grin at Mother yet scenes from the recent past held my attention. When my memories floated back to the times Mother and I handled her issues together as a team, I got blind-sided by a huge wave of sadness.
The ache to see my mother in front of me again, the person whom she used to be, was intense. It felt surreal, as if I had drifted into some dream. The oddest thing, though, was that I didn't feel unsettled at all. I could see myself still nodding and smiling at a mother who was physically beside me, yet also aching with sadness because she wasn't here anymore. It felt like I was two people: one was smiling, attentive to Mother. The other was struggling to handle strong pangs of grief because she missed her mother. I kept breathing through this strange experience of yearning, until finally the pangs calmed enough for me to know what to do -- turn on the TV.
Instantly, Mother turned her attention from me and onto Clifford, the Big Red Dog. Although I continued to watch with her, my attention stayed inward yet turned in a more personal direction. Do I still miss the person whom I used to be? I took some time to consider this question. Three years had almost passed -- I was older. And there was no doubt that my care-bear adventure would soon be over. I did still miss the freedom to come and go and do what I wanted in any given moment, but this missing was usually fleeting. As far as my counseling job at the alternative school, the yearning to return and again step into those shoes was gone. It would have been nice, though, to walk out the door and go for a swim, a hike, or a bike ride.
Mother grabbed my arm then, jolting me back to the present. She was pointing at the TV screen and babbling excitedly, so I bent down and gave her a kiss. Laughing along at Clifford's antics for a few minutes satisfied her, so I let my attention wander back into reflection.
There would be life after caregiving, but this experience had changed me. Did I define myself differently now? I was still a sports enthusiast, nature lover, movie nut, book and music lover, and I was a care bear. Before Mother-sitting, my life had seemed full and rewarding. My basic character was still fairly defined: friendly, funny, caring, trustworthy, dependable, honest, a generally nice person. Chuckling to myself, I also admitted to being stubborn, perfectionist, overly analytical, and sometimes too much into dreaming and procrastination. Perhaps not much had changed. Then I recalled that people who had known me before I became Mother's care bear had never thought of me as someone who lost their temper, or someone who had a lot of unresolved anger.
Shaking my head, I laughed and muttered, "If only they could see a video of me in action during these last two years." My temper had shown it's behind no matter how much I had tried to contain it.
I sighed contentedly then and grinned at Mother, enjoying listening to her garbled words of glee when Clifford got a big goofy hat put on his head. Laughing along with her, I nodded to myself in acknowledgement that a large chunk of emotion during this passage through grief had involved the loss of me in the life that I used to live. I also realized that I no longer missed that life. My life had taken its own turn, giving me a different kind of experience. That person was still around though her self-perception had changed. In her place was someone whom I had come to like, very much.
I looked over at Mother still babbling away, fascinated by the animation on her face as she watched the antics of cartoon characters that were dragons. "I love her," I whispered, and my breath caught in my throat as tender affection welled up within me.
When the sensation eased, I leaned toward Mother and gave her a long hug then whispered, "I love you, babe."
She turned her head to look at me, grinned then kissed my cheek and responded, "Grzt jru." In the next moment, she turned back to the TV and pointed at Clifford prancing along the screen.
"Yes, look at Clifford," I said, squeezing her hand.
And then I joined with Mother completely. We became two little kids in grownup bodies, pointing and laughing at the characters on TV, blurting out any word that caught our fancy. Words became unimportant to us. We were two grown-up kids frolicking together in gleeful companionship. Such instances of spontaneity cannot be planned. I haven't experienced that level of carefree joy since, yet my memory of this moment with Mother reminds me that other spontaneous bursts of joy might just be around a next corner.
Dody, it would be great to hear more about A Sacred Journey, and perhaps a favorite passage as well.
I'm quite proud of this story because it came from my heart as well as my imagination. I hope that readers experience the reverence with which I hold all aspects of our world and our passages through life towards death.
(Excerpt) Merlin soared effortlessly through the trees, leading Leah and two deer who had volunteered to serve as escorts. During passage through the densest brambles that bordered the trail, the deer used their bodies to hold back the undergrowth for Leah. The trees along the way sang softly, their leaves rustling in time to a gentle breeze. Periodically, Merlin lit upon a branch, giving Leah time to catch up and take a moment to breathe in the energy of the forest; he knew that the forest scents were restorative to her tired human spirit.
When he reached the mightiest oak in the woods, Merlin settled himself upon a branch as Leah gratefully sat down on a well-worn spot, upon a branch that dipped low to the ground.
"Thank you, Merlin," she said, gazing at his splendor. Humming happily, she stroked the two deer and whispered, "thank you," to each one.
The deer stayed near yet moved to graze on tufts of new grass. Leah breathed deeply, enjoying the musty fragrance of fallen leaves and the artistry of limbs as they twisted and turned, creating a maze of forest delight.
She had named this stalwart oak, Majesty, for its branches reached high to the sky yet sprawled out low to the ground; it had become her favorite place for communion during her last few visits to this part of the forest. Leah felt safe whenever she reached this place...safe enough to forget about those who searched for her.
By the time she usually reached Majesty, the residual, discordant noises from her day-time world had receded. Several nights ago, it was here that Leah had received the message that it was imperative for her to come into the forest tonight; that she was to meet someone who had once been with her on earth, a beloved. After hearing the news that night, it had been hard for Leah to return to the game trail, allow the trackers to find her.
But I'm here now, she thought.
Breathing in the energy of this forest, Leah felt the welcoming brush of a tiger moth's wings. She felt the earth beneath her bare feet pulse with life as tiny creatures carried out their many symbiotic tasks. "I am at peace here... Thank you, Majesty; your presence always gives me comfort," was Leah's words as she lovingly touched the branch upon which she sat.
And then, she stilled -- the peaceful energy was shifting. The two deer stopped grazing and raised their heads to stare over at a dense copse of bushes -- a slight rustle of leaves ensued as they were pushed aside and a cougar silently emerged. She was beautiful, sleek and powerful-looking.
Leah smiled and rose from her seat as the cougar padded towards her; she leaned down, touching the cougar's forehead with her own. "Hello, Kat," Leah said, as she straightened up, her hand stroking the cougar's body. "I was hoping to see you; that it would be you who brought my message tonight."
The cougar's deep-throated purr exuded comfort as she leaned into Leah and spoke: "For tonight, a special one, I am merely your escort; we go to a sacred spot."
The vibrato in Kat's purrs strengthened and reverberated in consonance with her next words, infusing in Leah a sense of renewed confidence.
Kat glanced towards Merlin, emitted a soft growl, and continued: "Danger lurks in some parts of the forest, Leah; we must ensure that you complete your journey unhindered. Two skunks have already thwarted the advance of those who track you. However, their efforts to outwit the four-legged creatures that search by smell are waning. We need your help. Do you have something with your scent that can be used to further their deception?
With no hesitation, Leah reached into the pocket of her cloak and pulled out an old cotton handkerchief, embroidered with the letter E. "Will this work?" she asked.
Kat flicked her tail and an odd shaped creature named Rosie flew down from Majesty, paws outstretched. The flying squirrel snatched the handkerchief from Leah, scrambled back up the oak and jumped off a topmost branch, beginning a flight from tree to tree, on her way to set up another part of the deception.
Dody, you have an adventurous spirit. Whose lucky genes did you inherit to have that kind of gusto for life?
Both of my parents, Jan, had the spirit of adventure in them. My mother had four girls and was widowed just after my youngest sister was born. She used to say that she lived life vicariously through my adventures since my life was so different than hers had been. I didn't get to know my dad since he died when I was three. Everyone said, though, that I took after him in spirit. He died when a safety line broke while he was at one of his favorite places to be: the top of a grand old oak tree, trimming limbs from around electrical wires. I went on a sabbatical to find myself in my late thirties, heading out West to camp and hike. I loved it when my mom shared a piece of this adventure; she flew into Utah and spent two weeks with me exploring the five national parks in that state.
Not only do you write, but you also help those who need a little extra help with their education. That is so important and remarkable. Can you give us some insight into what you do?
Some of my favorite stories to hear are about serendipitous encounters -- ones that lead a person to an unexpected place, externally or internally. (Meeting you through Twitter falls into this category) I ended up with a part-time job as GED teacher of adult students after meeting my good friend Aaron. He was friends with the man who hired me. My class is held in the meeting room of a library located about 45 minutes away from me. The drive is worth it, though, for I love the multicultural mix of students that I get to enjoy. I get to be a teacher, a cheerleader, and a coach. My students are part of my inspiration to continue to write. This is my third year in this job.
I've enjoyed finding out more about you and your books, Dody! Please come back anytime.
It was a pleasure, Jan. Your questions made me think and appreciate even more the depth of experience regarding writing that I share with others. See you in the stream!
Amazon links for Dody's books:
Adventures in Mother-Sitting
A Sacred Journey
If you'd like to follow Doreen (Dody) Cox, you can connect with her here:
Blog: http://doreencox.blogspot.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/DCoxAuthor
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mothersitter
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/7...
It's great to have you here, Dody! You're a good friend, a talented writer, and someone I greatly admire. I'd like to share a little bit about you before we get to the interview.
Dody's bio:
Born with a sense of wanderlust, Doreen (Dody) Cox had a somewhat convoluted career path, working in various business-related and mental health occupations. When dementia began to debilitate her mother, Dody resigned from her job as group counselor at an alternative school in order to take on an unforeseen endeavor: become her mother's care bear. It was after her mother's death that Dody's path took another unexpected turn. She chose to honor her mother's long-held wish: for her to write a book. ADVENTURES IN MOTHER-SITTING is Dody's first publication, a memoir that emerged from the pages of her journal. Writing was a steadying outlet throughout the three years that dementia took her and her mother on an unpredictably tumultuous, yet heartwarming adventure.
Currently, Dody lives in her native Florida and works part-time, teaching a GED class comprised of multicultural adults in one of her favorite places: a library. She continues to write and has recently published A SACRED JOURNEY, a fictional short story with themes relating to nature, spirituality, hope, and dignity in death.
From Dody...
Thanks so much, Jan, for inviting me to your flavorful, interesting blog. Do you think some of your great romance-writing abilities will rub off on me? Hope so.
Okay, folks, grab a cup of coffee (or beverage of choice). It's time to pose some questions to Dody.
First, I'm going to ask you the questions most authors get asked. What inspired you to become a writer? Who's your favorite author from the past?
When I left home for college and then afterward, on to Washington, D.C., I wrote many letters to my mom. They were descriptive ones about my work and social activities, and about my thoughts and opinions about life. For years, she'd nagged me to write a book, but my life was too full for me to settle down and write...until after she died. I discovered that she'd kept every letter that I had written to her. So I wrote "Adventures in Mother-Sitting" to honor her wish.
As was my mother, I'm an avid reader of a variety of genres so determining a favorite is impossible. The main criterion for a story to be a favorite is that it "hums" for me; the author crafted the story so well that a tonal quality streams beneath the storyline. Take a look at my Goodreads page and you'll see many of my favorites.
You've written both fiction and non-fiction. Can you tell us which genre was the most difficult? And why?
For either form, getting me to sit down is the most difficult task. There's always something else to do, people to see, places to go, or tweets to check out. One author friend told me to put glue on the seat, metaphorically speaking, of course! Once I do sit down, however, I often get lost in the experience. The most difficult aspect of writing the memoir was handling my emotions; there are no windshield wipers for glasses. I even threw drafts into the garbage can on several occasions -- they always got retrieved. Writing fiction is difficult when a tug of war ensues between my muse and the critic in my head. The critic likes to be in charge, and when she is, it's difficult to turn her off. Creating a flow within the story then becomes a challenge. That's a job for my muse, and she's very patient with me. Overall, though, I love playing with stories; there is never a dull moment.
Your books are packed with emotion. I laughed and cried when I read them. Would you like to tell us a little bit about your stories?
I'm glad to hear that you reacted, Jan, to the emotion in my books -- thank you. Adventures in Mother-Sitting, is a memoir of the three years I spent as full-time caregiver to my mother. I was working as a group counselor at an alternative school when her physical and mental condition deteriorated. It was difficult to let go of a job that I enjoyed (and the income), but I didn't hesitate -- the bond with my mother had always been strong. It became my ultimate adventure for her dementia challenged me in so many ways. The unpredictability regarding the daily care habits and reactions of my mother was a daily challenge. And there were a lot of embarrassing moments when I literally erupted, had such intense meltdowns. It was like being run over by a runaway train as I couldn't stop myself from erupting. But my reactions taught me a lot. The last year of my mother's life -- when she was "my child" and approaching death -- was incredibly tough yet so amazingly rich, both emotionally and spiritually. To stay sane, I kept a journal. It was after she'd died that I saw being her care bear as a final gift from her. I expressed my gratitude by fulfilling her long-held wish: for me to write a book.
My first short story, A Sacred Journey, was fun to write though also got to me emotionally. It's transformational in theme, a fantasy with a touch of paranormal. My mother's bout with dementia acted as fertilizer for the plot. During the end phase of her dementia, she'd often woken during the night, caught up in delusions. Since her death, I'd often wondered about what was going on in my mother's mind during those delusions: who was there...where was she going, who was she? All I had gotten from her episodes were pieces. So this story depicts a fanciful yet profound possibility of an end-time. The story embodies four major themes that are central to my outlook on life: first, be willing to see everything and everyone around me with fresh eyes. Second, stay open-minded as to the element of mystery that exists in our world. Third, affirm the sacredness inherent in the time of dying -- beyond specific religious views. These three themes are enfolded in threads of humor, the fourth theme.
.jpg)
Dody, can you share more about Adventures in Mother-Sitting and perhaps your favorite passage?
I've just completed a revision of my memoir and published a second edition. It's been a few years since the first publication, and I'm less emotionally distressed than I was back then. Of course, the story itself is unchanged. It's had a face lift (lovely cover) and a tummy tuck. I did some deleting of redundant passages and a refinement of some of the experiences. I think my descriptions are more vividly expressed in this version because of the way I've learned to craft my words, thanks to help from several author friends and my job as a GED teacher.
(Excerpt from chapter: As the End Nears) On another day as our verbal exchange danced along its familiar path, I experienced an epiphany. Instead of remaining frustrated, I calmed as a sense of curiosity took over. Lightly stroking her arm, I did not speak another word, merely nodded and smiled directly at her. Mother calmed down, too, yet continued to babble. I was fascinated, watching the animation on her face shift to glee instead of the often-seen display of agitation. Though I remained attentive to her, aware of her animation and tone of voice, I drifted into my own stream of thought.
My fascination turned inward, thinking about how everything I did each day was so linked to Mother's needs. My focus had gotten so caught up again in deciphering her ramblings in order to determine her needs that I neglected what she really needed: merely to be heard. I continued to nod and grin at Mother yet scenes from the recent past held my attention. When my memories floated back to the times Mother and I handled her issues together as a team, I got blind-sided by a huge wave of sadness.
The ache to see my mother in front of me again, the person whom she used to be, was intense. It felt surreal, as if I had drifted into some dream. The oddest thing, though, was that I didn't feel unsettled at all. I could see myself still nodding and smiling at a mother who was physically beside me, yet also aching with sadness because she wasn't here anymore. It felt like I was two people: one was smiling, attentive to Mother. The other was struggling to handle strong pangs of grief because she missed her mother. I kept breathing through this strange experience of yearning, until finally the pangs calmed enough for me to know what to do -- turn on the TV.
Instantly, Mother turned her attention from me and onto Clifford, the Big Red Dog. Although I continued to watch with her, my attention stayed inward yet turned in a more personal direction. Do I still miss the person whom I used to be? I took some time to consider this question. Three years had almost passed -- I was older. And there was no doubt that my care-bear adventure would soon be over. I did still miss the freedom to come and go and do what I wanted in any given moment, but this missing was usually fleeting. As far as my counseling job at the alternative school, the yearning to return and again step into those shoes was gone. It would have been nice, though, to walk out the door and go for a swim, a hike, or a bike ride.
Mother grabbed my arm then, jolting me back to the present. She was pointing at the TV screen and babbling excitedly, so I bent down and gave her a kiss. Laughing along at Clifford's antics for a few minutes satisfied her, so I let my attention wander back into reflection.
There would be life after caregiving, but this experience had changed me. Did I define myself differently now? I was still a sports enthusiast, nature lover, movie nut, book and music lover, and I was a care bear. Before Mother-sitting, my life had seemed full and rewarding. My basic character was still fairly defined: friendly, funny, caring, trustworthy, dependable, honest, a generally nice person. Chuckling to myself, I also admitted to being stubborn, perfectionist, overly analytical, and sometimes too much into dreaming and procrastination. Perhaps not much had changed. Then I recalled that people who had known me before I became Mother's care bear had never thought of me as someone who lost their temper, or someone who had a lot of unresolved anger.
Shaking my head, I laughed and muttered, "If only they could see a video of me in action during these last two years." My temper had shown it's behind no matter how much I had tried to contain it.
I sighed contentedly then and grinned at Mother, enjoying listening to her garbled words of glee when Clifford got a big goofy hat put on his head. Laughing along with her, I nodded to myself in acknowledgement that a large chunk of emotion during this passage through grief had involved the loss of me in the life that I used to live. I also realized that I no longer missed that life. My life had taken its own turn, giving me a different kind of experience. That person was still around though her self-perception had changed. In her place was someone whom I had come to like, very much.
I looked over at Mother still babbling away, fascinated by the animation on her face as she watched the antics of cartoon characters that were dragons. "I love her," I whispered, and my breath caught in my throat as tender affection welled up within me.
When the sensation eased, I leaned toward Mother and gave her a long hug then whispered, "I love you, babe."
She turned her head to look at me, grinned then kissed my cheek and responded, "Grzt jru." In the next moment, she turned back to the TV and pointed at Clifford prancing along the screen.
"Yes, look at Clifford," I said, squeezing her hand.
And then I joined with Mother completely. We became two little kids in grownup bodies, pointing and laughing at the characters on TV, blurting out any word that caught our fancy. Words became unimportant to us. We were two grown-up kids frolicking together in gleeful companionship. Such instances of spontaneity cannot be planned. I haven't experienced that level of carefree joy since, yet my memory of this moment with Mother reminds me that other spontaneous bursts of joy might just be around a next corner.
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Dody, it would be great to hear more about A Sacred Journey, and perhaps a favorite passage as well.
I'm quite proud of this story because it came from my heart as well as my imagination. I hope that readers experience the reverence with which I hold all aspects of our world and our passages through life towards death.
(Excerpt) Merlin soared effortlessly through the trees, leading Leah and two deer who had volunteered to serve as escorts. During passage through the densest brambles that bordered the trail, the deer used their bodies to hold back the undergrowth for Leah. The trees along the way sang softly, their leaves rustling in time to a gentle breeze. Periodically, Merlin lit upon a branch, giving Leah time to catch up and take a moment to breathe in the energy of the forest; he knew that the forest scents were restorative to her tired human spirit.
When he reached the mightiest oak in the woods, Merlin settled himself upon a branch as Leah gratefully sat down on a well-worn spot, upon a branch that dipped low to the ground.
"Thank you, Merlin," she said, gazing at his splendor. Humming happily, she stroked the two deer and whispered, "thank you," to each one.
The deer stayed near yet moved to graze on tufts of new grass. Leah breathed deeply, enjoying the musty fragrance of fallen leaves and the artistry of limbs as they twisted and turned, creating a maze of forest delight.
She had named this stalwart oak, Majesty, for its branches reached high to the sky yet sprawled out low to the ground; it had become her favorite place for communion during her last few visits to this part of the forest. Leah felt safe whenever she reached this place...safe enough to forget about those who searched for her.
By the time she usually reached Majesty, the residual, discordant noises from her day-time world had receded. Several nights ago, it was here that Leah had received the message that it was imperative for her to come into the forest tonight; that she was to meet someone who had once been with her on earth, a beloved. After hearing the news that night, it had been hard for Leah to return to the game trail, allow the trackers to find her.
But I'm here now, she thought.
Breathing in the energy of this forest, Leah felt the welcoming brush of a tiger moth's wings. She felt the earth beneath her bare feet pulse with life as tiny creatures carried out their many symbiotic tasks. "I am at peace here... Thank you, Majesty; your presence always gives me comfort," was Leah's words as she lovingly touched the branch upon which she sat.
And then, she stilled -- the peaceful energy was shifting. The two deer stopped grazing and raised their heads to stare over at a dense copse of bushes -- a slight rustle of leaves ensued as they were pushed aside and a cougar silently emerged. She was beautiful, sleek and powerful-looking.
Leah smiled and rose from her seat as the cougar padded towards her; she leaned down, touching the cougar's forehead with her own. "Hello, Kat," Leah said, as she straightened up, her hand stroking the cougar's body. "I was hoping to see you; that it would be you who brought my message tonight."
The cougar's deep-throated purr exuded comfort as she leaned into Leah and spoke: "For tonight, a special one, I am merely your escort; we go to a sacred spot."
The vibrato in Kat's purrs strengthened and reverberated in consonance with her next words, infusing in Leah a sense of renewed confidence.
Kat glanced towards Merlin, emitted a soft growl, and continued: "Danger lurks in some parts of the forest, Leah; we must ensure that you complete your journey unhindered. Two skunks have already thwarted the advance of those who track you. However, their efforts to outwit the four-legged creatures that search by smell are waning. We need your help. Do you have something with your scent that can be used to further their deception?
With no hesitation, Leah reached into the pocket of her cloak and pulled out an old cotton handkerchief, embroidered with the letter E. "Will this work?" she asked.
Kat flicked her tail and an odd shaped creature named Rosie flew down from Majesty, paws outstretched. The flying squirrel snatched the handkerchief from Leah, scrambled back up the oak and jumped off a topmost branch, beginning a flight from tree to tree, on her way to set up another part of the deception.
Dody, you have an adventurous spirit. Whose lucky genes did you inherit to have that kind of gusto for life?
Both of my parents, Jan, had the spirit of adventure in them. My mother had four girls and was widowed just after my youngest sister was born. She used to say that she lived life vicariously through my adventures since my life was so different than hers had been. I didn't get to know my dad since he died when I was three. Everyone said, though, that I took after him in spirit. He died when a safety line broke while he was at one of his favorite places to be: the top of a grand old oak tree, trimming limbs from around electrical wires. I went on a sabbatical to find myself in my late thirties, heading out West to camp and hike. I loved it when my mom shared a piece of this adventure; she flew into Utah and spent two weeks with me exploring the five national parks in that state.
Not only do you write, but you also help those who need a little extra help with their education. That is so important and remarkable. Can you give us some insight into what you do?
Some of my favorite stories to hear are about serendipitous encounters -- ones that lead a person to an unexpected place, externally or internally. (Meeting you through Twitter falls into this category) I ended up with a part-time job as GED teacher of adult students after meeting my good friend Aaron. He was friends with the man who hired me. My class is held in the meeting room of a library located about 45 minutes away from me. The drive is worth it, though, for I love the multicultural mix of students that I get to enjoy. I get to be a teacher, a cheerleader, and a coach. My students are part of my inspiration to continue to write. This is my third year in this job.
I've enjoyed finding out more about you and your books, Dody! Please come back anytime.
It was a pleasure, Jan. Your questions made me think and appreciate even more the depth of experience regarding writing that I share with others. See you in the stream!
Amazon links for Dody's books:
Adventures in Mother-Sitting
A Sacred Journey
If you'd like to follow Doreen (Dody) Cox, you can connect with her here:
Blog: http://doreencox.blogspot.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/DCoxAuthor
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mothersitter
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/7...
December 31, 2014
Straighten that sock drawer, pump that iron...
2015
Hard to believe another year has passed and a new one has begun!
~ * ~
I always look forward to the New Year as a fresh start! And I thought I'd share my resolution list! So here goes...
Be more adventurous.(I tend to err on the side of caution.)
Lose 10 pounds.(Doesn't sound like much but for me it's a monumental feat.)
Go camping whenever possible.(A soothing campfire. Need I say more?)
Take more time to read.(It's one of my favorite things to do.)
Visit Woodstock, Vermont.(I wrote about it in Big on Christmas!)
Attend writers and readers conferences.(I haven't been to one in 3 years. I'm overdue.)
More book signings.(Didn't engage in any in 2014. My bad.)
Try hummus.(Random thought.)
Write a children's book.(Promised my grand-kids I'd write one.)
Make the bestseller's list.(A lofty goal. Fingers crossed.)
Don't fear getting a new hairstyle.(I have boring hair.)
Get on the exercise bike and pedal my ___ off.(haha! Fill in the blank)
Clean my sock drawer.(You should see it - it's hideous!)
Pump that iron and get defined arm muscles.(Stop laughing. It could happen.)
Enjoy more sunsets!
(So peaceful!)
Forgo the chips and chocolate.
(Maybe I should try reverse psychology and say 'forgo carrots and celery'. Hmm.)
Last but not least, give thanks every day to The Lord for this incredible life I've been given!
Wishing all of you a happy, healthy, prosperous New Year!
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Hard to believe another year has passed and a new one has begun!
~ * ~
I always look forward to the New Year as a fresh start! And I thought I'd share my resolution list! So here goes...
Be more adventurous.(I tend to err on the side of caution.)
Lose 10 pounds.(Doesn't sound like much but for me it's a monumental feat.)
Go camping whenever possible.(A soothing campfire. Need I say more?)
Take more time to read.(It's one of my favorite things to do.)
Visit Woodstock, Vermont.(I wrote about it in Big on Christmas!)
Attend writers and readers conferences.(I haven't been to one in 3 years. I'm overdue.)
More book signings.(Didn't engage in any in 2014. My bad.)
Try hummus.(Random thought.)
Write a children's book.(Promised my grand-kids I'd write one.)
Make the bestseller's list.(A lofty goal. Fingers crossed.)
Don't fear getting a new hairstyle.(I have boring hair.)
Get on the exercise bike and pedal my ___ off.(haha! Fill in the blank)
Clean my sock drawer.(You should see it - it's hideous!)
Pump that iron and get defined arm muscles.(Stop laughing. It could happen.)
Enjoy more sunsets!
(So peaceful!)
Forgo the chips and chocolate.
(Maybe I should try reverse psychology and say 'forgo carrots and celery'. Hmm.)
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Last but not least, give thanks every day to The Lord for this incredible life I've been given!
Wishing all of you a happy, healthy, prosperous New Year!
December 23, 2014
Piper's Piping by Dylan Newton
I'm delighted to welcome Dylan Newton to my blog with her book, Piper's Piping - part of the Twelve Brides of Christmas blog hop!
PIPER'S PIPING is a holiday tale with a werewolf twist. Santa's not the only mythical being working overtime to save Christmas!
From Dylan...
Thank you so much for hosting me today for the awesome "12 Brides of Christmas" Author Spotlight! In my book Piper's Piping, my werewolf heroine (much as I have always wanted to do!) travels to Ireland for the holidays. But as with much of Aribella's life, her long-awaited honeymoon doesn't quite turn out the way she planned!
For a chance to win a FREE e-copy of "Piper's Piping" -- my holiday story with a werewolf twist -- comment below with your answer to my holiday question:
If you could go anywhere for the holidays, where would you go and why?
I can't wait to hear where you'd go, and because I'm a writer -- I'm curious as to WHY you'd choose that location! We writers need to know the backstory! I will be choosing one random comment by noon tomorrow for that FREE e-copy, so scroll down and comment below!
Here's a little bit about my book, Piper's Piping, including an excerpt and some buy links for you! Thanks again for stopping by, and don't forget to comment for a chance to WIN!!!
"Piper's Piping" blurb:
Werewolf Aribella Lupari-Gray is on her long-awaited honeymoon. Or at least, that was the plan. When she and Mason land in Ireland just before Christmas, their dream holiday turns into a nightmare: the pack's werewolf children have all vanished.
To top it off, the werewolf king -- who was supposedly to sanctify Ari's marriage to a human -- is away searching for the missing pups and may not return in time to grant his official blessing, jeopardizing her family's future status within the pack.
If things don't change fast, there may not even be a marriage to bless. Ari's desire to help puts her life -- and her relationship with Mason -- in jeopardy.
With Mason gone, presumably back to the States and Christmas on the doorstep, Ari sets out on one final mission to find the lost pups. Her life and the pack's young in the balance, will Ari be able to perform a holiday miracle or will she die trying?
"Piper's Piping excerpt:
Ari unfolded the note, and glitter cascaded down from the folds.
"Santa loves sparkly things," Keeva said, anxiously eyeing the lost glitter. "So after I wrote my Christmas list, I outlined it in red and green litter. See?"
Ari's smiled faded as she scanned the child's crayoned letter.
Dear Santa,
Can you please find my cousins for Christmas? Even Phaedra, but do not give her candy, as she is not a good sharer.
I know you won't have room in your sleigh for toys with all those kids, so you don't have to give me anything else. But maybe you can fit a kitten in your pocket? Mum says no way can a werewolf have a cat, but if you bring one she will have to say yes.
Thank you,
Keeva Carney
P.S. I like black kittens best.
Ari carefully refolded the paper, and Keeva stuffed it into her stocking once more.
"Mum said Santa is busy Christmas Eve, but if that's all I ask for, he'll bring them back. He won't let them miss Christmas, right?" Keeva looked up at Ari.
Ruffling the girl's ginger hair, Ari mustered a smile. "When a good girl asks Santa for something, how can he resist?"
As Keeva scampered to the kitchen for dinner, Ari stared fixedly at the festive decorations. Santa was in way over his mythical head.
Buy Links
Amazon (for Piper's Piping)
The Wild Rose Press for Dylan Newton (all books)
Author bio :
Dylan Newton was born and raised in a small town in Upstate New York where the local library was her favorite hang-out. Despite earning a degree in English Literature, Dylan spent more than a decade sidetracked by an executive position in corporate America where she swears she contracted testosterone poisoning. After leaving, she dedicated herself to more estrogen-rich passions, like motherhood, writing romance novels and her never-ending quest for the perfect date night.
Dylan married her high-school sweetheart and they are busy living out their own happily-ever-after in sunny Florida with their two incredible daughters.
Visit Dylan at www.DylanNewton.com or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/DylanNewtonAuthor
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PIPER'S PIPING is a holiday tale with a werewolf twist. Santa's not the only mythical being working overtime to save Christmas!
From Dylan...
Thank you so much for hosting me today for the awesome "12 Brides of Christmas" Author Spotlight! In my book Piper's Piping, my werewolf heroine (much as I have always wanted to do!) travels to Ireland for the holidays. But as with much of Aribella's life, her long-awaited honeymoon doesn't quite turn out the way she planned!
For a chance to win a FREE e-copy of "Piper's Piping" -- my holiday story with a werewolf twist -- comment below with your answer to my holiday question:
If you could go anywhere for the holidays, where would you go and why?
I can't wait to hear where you'd go, and because I'm a writer -- I'm curious as to WHY you'd choose that location! We writers need to know the backstory! I will be choosing one random comment by noon tomorrow for that FREE e-copy, so scroll down and comment below!
Here's a little bit about my book, Piper's Piping, including an excerpt and some buy links for you! Thanks again for stopping by, and don't forget to comment for a chance to WIN!!!
.jpg)
"Piper's Piping" blurb:
Werewolf Aribella Lupari-Gray is on her long-awaited honeymoon. Or at least, that was the plan. When she and Mason land in Ireland just before Christmas, their dream holiday turns into a nightmare: the pack's werewolf children have all vanished.
To top it off, the werewolf king -- who was supposedly to sanctify Ari's marriage to a human -- is away searching for the missing pups and may not return in time to grant his official blessing, jeopardizing her family's future status within the pack.
If things don't change fast, there may not even be a marriage to bless. Ari's desire to help puts her life -- and her relationship with Mason -- in jeopardy.
With Mason gone, presumably back to the States and Christmas on the doorstep, Ari sets out on one final mission to find the lost pups. Her life and the pack's young in the balance, will Ari be able to perform a holiday miracle or will she die trying?
"Piper's Piping excerpt:
Ari unfolded the note, and glitter cascaded down from the folds.
"Santa loves sparkly things," Keeva said, anxiously eyeing the lost glitter. "So after I wrote my Christmas list, I outlined it in red and green litter. See?"
Ari's smiled faded as she scanned the child's crayoned letter.
Dear Santa,
Can you please find my cousins for Christmas? Even Phaedra, but do not give her candy, as she is not a good sharer.
I know you won't have room in your sleigh for toys with all those kids, so you don't have to give me anything else. But maybe you can fit a kitten in your pocket? Mum says no way can a werewolf have a cat, but if you bring one she will have to say yes.
Thank you,
Keeva Carney
P.S. I like black kittens best.
Ari carefully refolded the paper, and Keeva stuffed it into her stocking once more.
"Mum said Santa is busy Christmas Eve, but if that's all I ask for, he'll bring them back. He won't let them miss Christmas, right?" Keeva looked up at Ari.
Ruffling the girl's ginger hair, Ari mustered a smile. "When a good girl asks Santa for something, how can he resist?"
As Keeva scampered to the kitchen for dinner, Ari stared fixedly at the festive decorations. Santa was in way over his mythical head.
Buy Links
Amazon (for Piper's Piping)
The Wild Rose Press for Dylan Newton (all books)
Author bio :
Dylan Newton was born and raised in a small town in Upstate New York where the local library was her favorite hang-out. Despite earning a degree in English Literature, Dylan spent more than a decade sidetracked by an executive position in corporate America where she swears she contracted testosterone poisoning. After leaving, she dedicated herself to more estrogen-rich passions, like motherhood, writing romance novels and her never-ending quest for the perfect date night.
Dylan married her high-school sweetheart and they are busy living out their own happily-ever-after in sunny Florida with their two incredible daughters.
Visit Dylan at www.DylanNewton.com or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/DylanNewtonAuthor
December 22, 2014
The Tenth Suitor by Laura Strickland
It's a pleasure to welcome Laura Strickland with - The Tenth Suitor - part of the Twelve Brides of Christmas series!
Laura Strickland
THE TENTH SUITOR: With ten lords a-leaping for her favor, will she choose the fool?
From Laura Strickland...
I'm so please to be here today as part of the "12 Brides of Christmas" Author Spotlight! For a chance to win an electronic copy of my other Christmas novella released this year, MRS. CLAUS AND THE VIKING SHIP, just comment with your answer to this question: As the heroine of THE TENTH SUITOR discovers, Christmas is the perfect time for romance, so what's the most romantic Christmas gift you ever received? (We'll need to keep it PG, please!) I'll bet you have some beautiful stories to share!
I will be choosing one random comment by noon tomorrow for the free e-copy of my magical story, so be sure to comment below!
~ * ~
I think it's such a lovely idea to have twelve wonderful Christmas tales about brides and true love. Here's a bit about my book, THE TENTH SUITOR, including an excerpt and some buy links for you! Thanks for stopping by, and I hope everyone has a warm and wonderful holiday season!
THE TENTH SUITOR blurb:
When Edwina Armstrong's father invites ten titled lords to spend Christmas at his estate so Edwina may choose one for a husband, she finds the idea romantic. She dreams of gazing into the eyes of one of her suitors and falling deeply in love. But it soon becomes apparent the lords in question are far more interested in gaining her father's estate than Edwina's hand.
Thorstan's in attendance but he hasn't been invited and he's no lord. A former mercenary, he's come disguised as a fool to get near Edwina, long adored from afar. Edwina quickly falls for his charm and quirky humor even though she fears her father will never approve of a commoner for her husband. But when Edwina is abducted, only Thorstan -- a skilled swordsman -- has hope of rescuing her in time for the promised Christmas wedding.
THE TENTH SUITOR excerpt:
Edwina quickened her steps, and the fool drew her arm more closely against his side. Oh, highly improper, but at the moment she did not care.
A guard stood at the gate. Edwina nodded to him, and they passed into the chill of the evening, and a wash of moonlight.
A stone wall lay to the left; Edwina urged her escort there and drew a deep draught of air. "You are right, Lord Fool. Much better."
"'Lord Fool'?" he questioned, his mouth beside her ear.
"If you can call me 'lady,' I can call you 'lord'." She turned her head and found her face very near his. Aye, most improper - but it was such a luxury to be with a man taller than she.
Too bad he was just a fool.
He leaned on the wall beside her. "My fool's wisdom tells me you are not enjoying this great pageant staged for your benefit."
"That I am not."
"Yet I hear there is much gaiety and frolic yet to come - a play, and even a masked dance."
"Aye. Perhaps you can attend as a fool."
"Perhaps I will. If I do, will you dance with me?" He caught both her hands and, in true fool's fashion, whirled her about in the cold air until her breath came fast and she laughed aloud. Edwina could no longer hear the music from inside, but the fool hummed a tune in a deep, velvety voice. The moonlight flickered around them, striping his face in brightness and then shadow until all she could see was the laughter in his eyes. When they came to rest at last, she leaned against him.
"You should laugh more often," he said. "It makes you even more beautiful."
Suddenly Edwina felt breathless from more than the whirling dance.
Buy links for THE TENTH SUITOR:
Amazon
The Wild Rose Press
Barnes and Noble
Kobo
Author web page: www.laurastrickland.com
Laura Strickland's bio:
Born and raised in Western New York, Laura Strickland has pursued lifelong interests in lore, legend, magic and music, all reflected in her writing. Though her imagination frequently takes her to far off places, she is usually happiest at home not far from Lake Ontario with her husband and her "fur" child, a rescue dog. Author of Scottish romance Devil Black as well as The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy consisting of Daughter of Sherwood, Champion of Sherwood and Lord of Sherwood, she is currently working on the second book of a new Steampunk romance series and has two Christmas novellas releasing this season: The Tenth Suitor, and Mrs. Claus and the Viking Ship.
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Laura Strickland
THE TENTH SUITOR: With ten lords a-leaping for her favor, will she choose the fool?
From Laura Strickland...
I'm so please to be here today as part of the "12 Brides of Christmas" Author Spotlight! For a chance to win an electronic copy of my other Christmas novella released this year, MRS. CLAUS AND THE VIKING SHIP, just comment with your answer to this question: As the heroine of THE TENTH SUITOR discovers, Christmas is the perfect time for romance, so what's the most romantic Christmas gift you ever received? (We'll need to keep it PG, please!) I'll bet you have some beautiful stories to share!
I will be choosing one random comment by noon tomorrow for the free e-copy of my magical story, so be sure to comment below!
~ * ~
I think it's such a lovely idea to have twelve wonderful Christmas tales about brides and true love. Here's a bit about my book, THE TENTH SUITOR, including an excerpt and some buy links for you! Thanks for stopping by, and I hope everyone has a warm and wonderful holiday season!
THE TENTH SUITOR blurb:
When Edwina Armstrong's father invites ten titled lords to spend Christmas at his estate so Edwina may choose one for a husband, she finds the idea romantic. She dreams of gazing into the eyes of one of her suitors and falling deeply in love. But it soon becomes apparent the lords in question are far more interested in gaining her father's estate than Edwina's hand.
Thorstan's in attendance but he hasn't been invited and he's no lord. A former mercenary, he's come disguised as a fool to get near Edwina, long adored from afar. Edwina quickly falls for his charm and quirky humor even though she fears her father will never approve of a commoner for her husband. But when Edwina is abducted, only Thorstan -- a skilled swordsman -- has hope of rescuing her in time for the promised Christmas wedding.
THE TENTH SUITOR excerpt:
Edwina quickened her steps, and the fool drew her arm more closely against his side. Oh, highly improper, but at the moment she did not care.
A guard stood at the gate. Edwina nodded to him, and they passed into the chill of the evening, and a wash of moonlight.
A stone wall lay to the left; Edwina urged her escort there and drew a deep draught of air. "You are right, Lord Fool. Much better."
"'Lord Fool'?" he questioned, his mouth beside her ear.
"If you can call me 'lady,' I can call you 'lord'." She turned her head and found her face very near his. Aye, most improper - but it was such a luxury to be with a man taller than she.
Too bad he was just a fool.
He leaned on the wall beside her. "My fool's wisdom tells me you are not enjoying this great pageant staged for your benefit."
"That I am not."
"Yet I hear there is much gaiety and frolic yet to come - a play, and even a masked dance."
"Aye. Perhaps you can attend as a fool."
"Perhaps I will. If I do, will you dance with me?" He caught both her hands and, in true fool's fashion, whirled her about in the cold air until her breath came fast and she laughed aloud. Edwina could no longer hear the music from inside, but the fool hummed a tune in a deep, velvety voice. The moonlight flickered around them, striping his face in brightness and then shadow until all she could see was the laughter in his eyes. When they came to rest at last, she leaned against him.
"You should laugh more often," he said. "It makes you even more beautiful."
Suddenly Edwina felt breathless from more than the whirling dance.
Buy links for THE TENTH SUITOR:
Amazon
The Wild Rose Press
Barnes and Noble
Kobo
Author web page: www.laurastrickland.com
Laura Strickland's bio:
Born and raised in Western New York, Laura Strickland has pursued lifelong interests in lore, legend, magic and music, all reflected in her writing. Though her imagination frequently takes her to far off places, she is usually happiest at home not far from Lake Ontario with her husband and her "fur" child, a rescue dog. Author of Scottish romance Devil Black as well as The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy consisting of Daughter of Sherwood, Champion of Sherwood and Lord of Sherwood, she is currently working on the second book of a new Steampunk romance series and has two Christmas novellas releasing this season: The Tenth Suitor, and Mrs. Claus and the Viking Ship.
December 21, 2014
Faerie Faith by Silver James
FAERIE FAITH
by Silver James
"Will a fae harper find his faith in time to save his Christmas bride and his magic?"
It's a pleasure to welcome Silver James to my blog as part of the Twelve Brides of Christmas blog hop!
From Silver...
Thank you so much for hosting me today for the fantastic "12 Brides of Christmas" Author Spotlight! In my book, FAERIE FAITH, Abhean, the Fae Harper, has been exiled to the mortal realm and strippeef of his memory and his magic. He's now a street musician in New York City during the Christmas holidays. With so many great Christmas movies set in NYC, I've always wanted to experience Christmas in the Big Apple.
For a chance to win a FREE e-copy of FAERIE FAITH -- my magical holiday story -- comment below with your answer to m y holiday question:
If you could go to NYC during the Christmas season, what one thing would be on your Must Do List?Macy's Christmas Parade? The Rockettes? Ice skating at Rockefeller Center? And because I'm a writer, I want to know why you chose this activity. Don't forget to leave a comment for a chance to win. You must also leave your email address in your comment so I can contact you if you win! I'll randomly select a winner on Christmas Eve so make sure I have your emails!
Here's a little bit about my book, FAERIE FAITH, including an excerpt and the places where you can find it. Thanks again for stopping by, and don't forget to comment for a chance to WIN!!!
FAERIE FAITH blurb:
Abhean, the fae harper, is exiled to the mortal realm until he finds the other half of his heart. As Venn McLyre, the NYC street musician, he has no memory of his true nature -- or his magic. When he steps in to save reluctant bride, Gwyneth Riley, he could lose more than his heart -- he could lose his immortality.
Socialite Gwyn Riley is resigned to marrying Sumner Barrett, son of her mother's best friend. A marriage based on duty to family and convenience, she has no pretensions about love. It takes the magic touch of poor musician to open her heart to the possibilities. When three couples arrive to remind Venn of his identity, he has only moments to stop Gwyn's wedding. Is he too late, or with the King of Tir Nan Og step in to grant Abhean and Gywn their own happy ever after?
FAERIE FAITH excerpt:
Hours stretched into days, and finally, Venn could stand it no longer. He grabbed his duffel stuffed with instruments and headed out. He would drown his sorrow in music. He would fill the air with laments until the who city's heart broke and the people wept with him. He caught the subway, traveling close to Times Square before he de-trained. The crowds here were good, filled with holiday cheer. The trains ran on a schedule that gave him time for a song between. He took up his station between the platform and turnstiles. Setting out his copper pot, he withdrew the soft fiddle case from his duffel and pulled out his violin. After a few tweaks, he pulled his bow across the strings. People paused. He flexed his fingers and began to play.
Notes ripped from the depths of his soul filled the air, each one dripping a tear. His hair flew around his face as he coaxed the tune from wood and string. The violin wailed, baring Venn's tortured soul. Then it wept but offered no consolation for his loss. Gwyn. Her name was both a prayer and a curse on the tip of his tongue. How could one woman bring him to the depths of despair? He'd sworn never to love, but he'd had no choice. She stole his heart, surrounding his darkness with light and sweetness, with sunset hair and Galway blue eyes.
He finished the song, one dredged from his soul, on a last sighing note. Silence thundered in his ears. A woman stepped forward, tears streaking her perfect makeup. She dropped money in his pot and moved on.
Buy Links for FAERIE FAITH
Amazon | Wild Rose Press | All Romance and mark it WANT TO READ on Goodreads
Author bio:
Silver James likes to take walks on the dark side and coffee. Okay. She loves coffee. LOTS of coffee. Warning: Her muse, Iffy, runs with scissors and can be quite dangerous. She's the author of two award-winning urban fantasy series, Moonstruck and The Penumbra Papers. She's been a military officer's wife, mother, state appellate court marshal, airport rescue firefighter and forensic fire photographer, crime analyst, technical crime scene investigator, and writer of magic and mystery. Now retired from the "real world", she lives in Oklahoma and spends her days at the computer with two Newfoundland dogs, the cat who rules them all, and myriad characters all clamoring for attention. She writes dark paranormal thrillers, time travel romance, and sexy contemporary romance. To find out more about Silver, visit her at www.silverjames.com, like her on FACEBOOK, or follow her infrequent tweets at @SilverJames_. You can also sign up for SILVER’S NEWSLETTER by clicking.
by Silver James
"Will a fae harper find his faith in time to save his Christmas bride and his magic?"
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It's a pleasure to welcome Silver James to my blog as part of the Twelve Brides of Christmas blog hop!
From Silver...
Thank you so much for hosting me today for the fantastic "12 Brides of Christmas" Author Spotlight! In my book, FAERIE FAITH, Abhean, the Fae Harper, has been exiled to the mortal realm and strippeef of his memory and his magic. He's now a street musician in New York City during the Christmas holidays. With so many great Christmas movies set in NYC, I've always wanted to experience Christmas in the Big Apple.
For a chance to win a FREE e-copy of FAERIE FAITH -- my magical holiday story -- comment below with your answer to m y holiday question:
If you could go to NYC during the Christmas season, what one thing would be on your Must Do List?Macy's Christmas Parade? The Rockettes? Ice skating at Rockefeller Center? And because I'm a writer, I want to know why you chose this activity. Don't forget to leave a comment for a chance to win. You must also leave your email address in your comment so I can contact you if you win! I'll randomly select a winner on Christmas Eve so make sure I have your emails!
Here's a little bit about my book, FAERIE FAITH, including an excerpt and the places where you can find it. Thanks again for stopping by, and don't forget to comment for a chance to WIN!!!
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FAERIE FAITH blurb:
Abhean, the fae harper, is exiled to the mortal realm until he finds the other half of his heart. As Venn McLyre, the NYC street musician, he has no memory of his true nature -- or his magic. When he steps in to save reluctant bride, Gwyneth Riley, he could lose more than his heart -- he could lose his immortality.
Socialite Gwyn Riley is resigned to marrying Sumner Barrett, son of her mother's best friend. A marriage based on duty to family and convenience, she has no pretensions about love. It takes the magic touch of poor musician to open her heart to the possibilities. When three couples arrive to remind Venn of his identity, he has only moments to stop Gwyn's wedding. Is he too late, or with the King of Tir Nan Og step in to grant Abhean and Gywn their own happy ever after?
FAERIE FAITH excerpt:
Hours stretched into days, and finally, Venn could stand it no longer. He grabbed his duffel stuffed with instruments and headed out. He would drown his sorrow in music. He would fill the air with laments until the who city's heart broke and the people wept with him. He caught the subway, traveling close to Times Square before he de-trained. The crowds here were good, filled with holiday cheer. The trains ran on a schedule that gave him time for a song between. He took up his station between the platform and turnstiles. Setting out his copper pot, he withdrew the soft fiddle case from his duffel and pulled out his violin. After a few tweaks, he pulled his bow across the strings. People paused. He flexed his fingers and began to play.
Notes ripped from the depths of his soul filled the air, each one dripping a tear. His hair flew around his face as he coaxed the tune from wood and string. The violin wailed, baring Venn's tortured soul. Then it wept but offered no consolation for his loss. Gwyn. Her name was both a prayer and a curse on the tip of his tongue. How could one woman bring him to the depths of despair? He'd sworn never to love, but he'd had no choice. She stole his heart, surrounding his darkness with light and sweetness, with sunset hair and Galway blue eyes.
He finished the song, one dredged from his soul, on a last sighing note. Silence thundered in his ears. A woman stepped forward, tears streaking her perfect makeup. She dropped money in his pot and moved on.
Buy Links for FAERIE FAITH
Amazon | Wild Rose Press | All Romance and mark it WANT TO READ on Goodreads
Author bio:
Silver James likes to take walks on the dark side and coffee. Okay. She loves coffee. LOTS of coffee. Warning: Her muse, Iffy, runs with scissors and can be quite dangerous. She's the author of two award-winning urban fantasy series, Moonstruck and The Penumbra Papers. She's been a military officer's wife, mother, state appellate court marshal, airport rescue firefighter and forensic fire photographer, crime analyst, technical crime scene investigator, and writer of magic and mystery. Now retired from the "real world", she lives in Oklahoma and spends her days at the computer with two Newfoundland dogs, the cat who rules them all, and myriad characters all clamoring for attention. She writes dark paranormal thrillers, time travel romance, and sexy contemporary romance. To find out more about Silver, visit her at www.silverjames.com, like her on FACEBOOK, or follow her infrequent tweets at @SilverJames_. You can also sign up for SILVER’S NEWSLETTER by clicking.
December 20, 2014
A Case for Calamity by Mackenzie Crowne
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Mackenzie Crowne
Mackenzie Crowne is visiting me today with her book, A Case for Calamity, part of the The Wild Rose Press's "Twelve Brides of Christmas" series.
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Here's the blurb for Mac's fun contemporary romance:
For Jane Whitmore, agreeing to switch identities with her best friend seems like innocent fun, but spending a romantic night in Paris with a man who doesn't know her real name turns out to be a lark gone bad. When their one night of passion proves to have lasting results, tracking down Gabe Sutton and telling him he's about to be the father of her child is just another calamity Jane would rather avoid. After years of avoiding long-term romantic entanglements, Gabe has found a woman he might just be able to build a life with, only to have her disappear. When he finally finds her, his belief in happily-ever-after staggers under the weight of deception, and looming fatherhood leaves him with two choices: fight her for custody of his future child or cling to the promise of true love.
And an excerpt to whet our appetite for more:
"He doesn't even know my name. What am I supposed to do? Walk up to him and say, 'Hi Gabe. I'm the chick who tricked you into believing I was Michael Austin's daughter two months ago in Paris. Oh, and by the way, I'm having your baby?'" "I was thinking more along the lines of, 'Hi Gabe. I'm the chick who snuck out of your hotel room in Paris before you could say Good morning, beautiful. By the way, I had a really good time -- and six orgasms. Oh, and I'm having your baby. Want to get a pizza?" Jane laughed at Shae's cheeky grin, then shoved her fingers through her hair. "Right. That'll work." "I googled him. You're right. He's hawt! He left his number that morning in Paris." She smiled slyly. "You should call him." Jane snorted. "I don't think giving Gabe Sutton a booty call would be a good idea. Besides, I'm on a sabbatical from men." Shae waggled her brows. "What's that old saying? When you fall off a horse, you need to climb right back on?"
** Comment on Mac's Christmas question for a chance to enter her giveaway. **
Here's Mac's question: Solid Christmas lights or colors?
(From Mac... I will be gifting an e-copy of one of my TWRP titles to three separate winners chosen randomly from all commenters. Winners' choice.)
Buy links: The Wild Rose Press Amazon Kobo
Mac's links:
The Wild Rose Press
Amazon Author Page
www.MackenzieCrown.com
Facebook Author Page
Twitter @maccrowne
Goodreads
Mac's bio:
Wife, mother and really young grandmother, Mac lives with her high school sweetheart husband, a neurotic Pomeranian, and a blind cat. She calls Phoenix home because the southwest feeds her soul. Though her friends claim she's a princess, she disagrees. After all, one can't raise two rambunctious boys to wonderful men without getting a little dirt under their nails. A lover of the romance genre, her resolve to share her stories with others was sharpened by a bout with breast cancer. Today she is an award-winning, multi-published author and seven year survivor, living the dream.
December 19, 2014
Seven Swans Bride by Donna Dalton - Twelve Brides of Christmas series
Donna Dalton, author of Seven Swans Bride, joins me as part of the Twelve Brides of Christmas blog hop!
Welcome, Donna!
From Donna...
Thank you so much for hosting me today for the Twelve Brides of Christmas author spotlight! My book, "Seven Swans Bride" is the seventh stanza of the Twelve Days of Christmas which includes seven swans a' swimming - and of course a bride. This sweet historical romance is set just after the American civil war.
For a chance to win a FREE e-copy of "Seven Swans Bride" comment below with your answer to my holiday question. I will be choosing one random comment by noon EST tomorrow, so scroll down and leave a comment!
Holiday question: Do you have any holiday traditions that have been passed down through the years from generation to generation? If so, I'd love to hear about them. If not, just list a tradition you'd like to see started.
Here's a little bit about my book, "Seven Swans Bride", including an excerpt and some buy links for you! Thanks again for stopping by, and don't forget to comment for a chance to WIN!!!
Seven Swans Bride blurb:
Family comes first for Abigail Whitlock. She'll do anything to make it home to Seven Swans in time for Christmas and to attend her sister's wedding - even if it means braving unforgiving mountainous terrain, fickle winter weather, and a captivating escort who threatens to steal her heart.
Country and duty come before all else for Major Evander Holt. He's scheduled to arrive at his new assignment by year's end, but a rockslide, a wily politician, and a headstrong, impetuous lady put his travel plans on hold. He doesn't need to come to her rescue, and he certainly doesn't need to fall in love with her. But there's something about Abigail he can't resist...even if it means risking his career.
Seven Swans Bride excerpt:
Evander moved into the station house and closed the door behind him. Passengers littered the floor like routed soldiers, some sitting on trunks, others standing in small groups, their faces creased with apprehension. Even the children were subdued. The sudden cessation of their trip had everyone battle-shocked.
On the other side of the room near the ticket counter, Miss Whitlock and Congressman Jones had their gazes locked on him. One looked as though she'd swallowed a dose of castor oil. The other wore a satisfied grin. Were those expressions for him? Neither was particularly welcoming.
Miss Whitlock broke off her stare and fiddled with her crooked hat feather. Hair the color sun-ripened wheat poured out from beneath her hat and framed her pretty face now flushed a charming shade of pink. He couldn't see her eyes from across the distance, but he recalled their intensity as he held her close after the sudden braking of the train. They were deep blue, like a bottomless ocean, one a less sentient man might drown in.
Buy links:
The Wild Rose Press:
http:www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalo...
Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_nos...
Author BIO:
Donna Dalton uses the rich history of her home state of Virginia and the American Civil War to create action-packed, emotional romances. Her favorite pastime is to tour the many battlefields and museums and bring those places to life in her stories. She has four full-length historical novels published with The Wild Rose Press as well as several contemporary short stories. You can visit her at www.donnadalton.net or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/DonnaDaltonb....
Welcome, Donna!
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From Donna...
Thank you so much for hosting me today for the Twelve Brides of Christmas author spotlight! My book, "Seven Swans Bride" is the seventh stanza of the Twelve Days of Christmas which includes seven swans a' swimming - and of course a bride. This sweet historical romance is set just after the American civil war.
For a chance to win a FREE e-copy of "Seven Swans Bride" comment below with your answer to my holiday question. I will be choosing one random comment by noon EST tomorrow, so scroll down and leave a comment!
Holiday question: Do you have any holiday traditions that have been passed down through the years from generation to generation? If so, I'd love to hear about them. If not, just list a tradition you'd like to see started.
Here's a little bit about my book, "Seven Swans Bride", including an excerpt and some buy links for you! Thanks again for stopping by, and don't forget to comment for a chance to WIN!!!
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Seven Swans Bride blurb:
Family comes first for Abigail Whitlock. She'll do anything to make it home to Seven Swans in time for Christmas and to attend her sister's wedding - even if it means braving unforgiving mountainous terrain, fickle winter weather, and a captivating escort who threatens to steal her heart.
Country and duty come before all else for Major Evander Holt. He's scheduled to arrive at his new assignment by year's end, but a rockslide, a wily politician, and a headstrong, impetuous lady put his travel plans on hold. He doesn't need to come to her rescue, and he certainly doesn't need to fall in love with her. But there's something about Abigail he can't resist...even if it means risking his career.
Seven Swans Bride excerpt:
Evander moved into the station house and closed the door behind him. Passengers littered the floor like routed soldiers, some sitting on trunks, others standing in small groups, their faces creased with apprehension. Even the children were subdued. The sudden cessation of their trip had everyone battle-shocked.
On the other side of the room near the ticket counter, Miss Whitlock and Congressman Jones had their gazes locked on him. One looked as though she'd swallowed a dose of castor oil. The other wore a satisfied grin. Were those expressions for him? Neither was particularly welcoming.
Miss Whitlock broke off her stare and fiddled with her crooked hat feather. Hair the color sun-ripened wheat poured out from beneath her hat and framed her pretty face now flushed a charming shade of pink. He couldn't see her eyes from across the distance, but he recalled their intensity as he held her close after the sudden braking of the train. They were deep blue, like a bottomless ocean, one a less sentient man might drown in.
Buy links:
The Wild Rose Press:
http:www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalo...
Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_nos...
Author BIO:
Donna Dalton uses the rich history of her home state of Virginia and the American Civil War to create action-packed, emotional romances. Her favorite pastime is to tour the many battlefields and museums and bring those places to life in her stories. She has four full-length historical novels published with The Wild Rose Press as well as several contemporary short stories. You can visit her at www.donnadalton.net or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/DonnaDaltonb....
December 18, 2014
Six Geese for Monica by Brenda Gayle
Brenda Gayle
Today I happily welcome, Brenda Gayle, with her latest release Six Geese for Monica.
A little bit about Brenda...
I've been a writer all my life but returned to my love of fiction after more than 20 years in the world of corporate communications -- although some might argue there is plenty of opportunity for fiction-writing there, too. I have a Master's degree in journalism and an undergraduate degree in psychology. A fan of many genres, I am drawn to contemporary romance and enjoy creating deeply emotional stories with elements of mystery and suspense.
I live in eastern Ontario (Canada) with my wonderful husband, two fabulous children, a rescued cat, two Siberian Huskies, and assorted aquatic wildlife.
Thank you so much for hosting me today, Jan. I love Christmas stories, so when The Wild Rose Press asked me to contribute to its Twelve Brides of Christmas anthology, I jumped at the opportunity. What could be more wonderful than a series that involves brides, Christmas, and one of the "gifts" of the famous Twelve Days of Christmas song? Of course, I hadn't fully considered that I'd have to work "six geese a-laying" into my plot, but that just made it more fun.
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For a chance to win a FREE e-copy of Six Geese for Monica let me know: What is a typical Christmas meal at your home?
I'll start: Turkey is an absolute essential at my Christmas table. I've tried to convince my family to be adventurous and try ham or goose (which would be very awkward this year), but they'll have none of it. In addition, there's usually mashed potatoes, green beans, and a squash/carrot casserole. Dessert is generally an assortment of baking my mother has provided, as well as a heated Christmas pudding with a decadent hard sauce (essentially an excuse to eat pure sugar blended with rich cream).
Here's a little bit about Six Geese for Monica, including an excerpt and some buy links for you. Thanks again for stopping by and please come back tomorrow to meet another Twelve Brides author. And, of course, don't forget to comment for a chance to win the book. I'll be randomly picking one comment tomorrow.
Six Geese for Monica blurb:
Seven years ago Monica Stevens left her home town with no intention of returning. Her inability to conceive a child not only devastated her fifteen-year marriage, it made her doubt her appeal as a woman. When her mother has to undergo surgery, she reluctantly agrees to come back and run the Mother Goose Daycare.
Luke Donovan is struggling to balance his career with his duties as a single father to six adopted children. The death of his wife has thrown the adoption of their two youngest sons into limbo. He is further stymied by a dogmatic social worker who questions whether a single parent can adequately care for so many children.
Initially brought together by the children, Monica and Luke quickly surrender to their growing passion. But when she learns about the threatened adoption, Monica wonders if Luke's interest in her is only as a mother to his children. Is history about to repeat itself, or will a Christmas miracle finally give Monica the family she's always dreamed of having?
Six Geese for Monica excerpt:
"Gotta love the Internet. There's a music stream for every situation." He took a step toward her and held out his hand. "Wanna dance?"
Monica allowed the music to move through her as she and Luke dance through Culture Club, Olivia Newton-John's "Physical," and Hall and Oates' "Maneater." She hadn't heard this music in years and it brought back feelings of being young and free, and a sense of wild abandon she'd experienced on the high school dance floor.
The mood shifted as the attic filled with the first strains of "Sailing" by Christopher Cross. That, too, brought back high school memories of those awkward moments when you didn't know if the boy you were dancing with was willing to slow dance with you or if he was going to abandon you on the dance floor.
Luke didn't hesitate. He wrapped both arms around her waist as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She reached up to encircle his neck, and rested her head against his chest. She could hear his heart beating, steady and firm. He was steady and firm. He smelled wonderful, a mixture of his woodsy aftershave with the softly sweet scent of the soap used by both him and his children.
He was a good dancer, his moves confident and clear. It was obviously something he'd done a lot of. Jeff hadn't like to dance -- typical jock -- and she'd missed it during their time together -- and after. How long since she'd been held on a dance floor? Or not on the dance floor, for that matter?
A good dancer. A good husband. A good father. Why couldn't she have met Luke, or someone like him, twenty years ago?
Buy Links:
Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Geese-Monica-Tw...
The Wild Rose Press (all books): http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/mai...
You can connect with Brenda here:
Website: www.BrendaGayle.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorBrenda...
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Brenda_Gayle
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...
