C.D. Hersh's Blog, page 13
November 28, 2024
Friday Feature New Horizon Cover Reveal
Today we have a COVER REVEAL from Stella May New Horizon, the final book in her moving Rostoff Family Saga series.
A promise. A warning. A vow.
Though hundreds, even thousands of miles lie between her and those she loves, Natasha is convinced one of them is in great danger. She knows it with a certainty that triggers brutal migraines and a premonition of disaster that sets her heart thundering.
Which one is it? Who is about to be torn from her life without the chance to say goodbye—or ask for forgiveness?
Maybe Katia, a talented artist, an independent woman, who still believes the lie that Natasha is dead.
Or Peter, an FBI agent in a dangerous job, who’s burdened with a secret that’s destroying his soul from the inside out.
Or Dmitry, the man she once promised never to leave—until she was forced to abandon him and his children.
With the reading of the evil and vindictive Elizabeth Rostoff’s will fast approaching, Natasha’s day of reckoning is at hand. And so is the sense of danger she just can’t shake. Sick with guilt and secrets, she must gather her courage and face reality. And banish the specter of Elizabeth Rostoff’s ghost for good. No matter what the cost.
EXCERPT
Natasha forced her hand to let go of the doorknob. The shock of seeing Dmitry on her doorsteps paralyzed her. Lightheaded, she clutched the round metal handle like an anchor and just stared at him.
Dear God, Dmitry…
His pictures failed do him justice. He now appeared more attractive than eighteen years ago. Arresting. Movie-star handsome. More salt than pepper, his hair remained thick and gorgeous; the lines around his mouth and eyes seemed more prominent, but none of it spoiled the overall picture. If anything, they added more character. More substance. Success and wealth poured from every cell of his body like a powerful fragrance. The arrogant tilt of head, that stubborn chin, those silver eyes — so painfully familiar. She sucked in a breath, unable to tear her gaze from him. His hard cold stare held her captive. Immobilized, mesmerized, she wondered what he saw as he studied her. Did he compare her to the image of the young woman in his memory? Did he find her lacking? She changed, as did he. But in women, the aging seemed more noticeable, and more unpleasant. Unforgiving. Even though her body remained slim and healthy, her skin bore the telltale signs of years no amount of skincare or exercising seemed capable to erase.
So silly to feel self-conscious about your appearances, Natasha. But darn it, I am woman.
A sudden overwhelming urge to smooth her hair or tug her T-shirt overcame her.
What am I wearing?
Oh, God, she completely forgot what she put on that morning. She chanced a quick glance.
And what does it matter, you fool?
Like in a stupor, she stood frozen, gazing at him, listening to the deep rumble of his voice. How many times had she heard that voice in her dreams? The low timbre of his baritone washed over her now like a sensual caress. Her brain tuned out his words, concentrating on the sound of his voice alone.
Only when he spoke about Jim— carelessly, mockingly— that Natasha snapped out of her spell.
What? A poor schmuck? The nerve of him.
He can say anything degrading about her, but Jim? He didn’t deserve it. How dare Dmitry insult a man he didn’t even know. Propelled by anger, fuming, she let go of the doorknob and glared at him. Her initial shock after seeing him on her doorstep evaporated in a flash, replaced by bubbling fury. She opened her mouth to rip into him, then stopped. Damn, they were still outside.
No way am I dealing with the arrogant bastard in plain view of my neighbors.
She opened the door wider, clamped her teeth, then lifted her chin.
“Come in. Or do you prefer to insult me outside?”
“I don’t plan to insult you at all. ” Dmitry stepped inside, then closed the door. The faint click of the lock echoed in her ears like a cannon blast.
“Funny, you could’ve fooled me.” She will congratulate herself on that show of a fake bravado later. If she survived the meeting, that is. Ignoring Dmitry, she turned in the direction of the kitchen. The short walk down the hallway seemed like a mile-long hike. Her legs turned into the overcooked noodles. She became a bundle of nerves. Jittery. Jumpy. Edgy. She sincerely hoped it didn’t show on the outside.
Hope springs eternal, Natasha.
Deep in her heart she knew that her meeting with Dmitry was inevitable. Sooner or later, he would find her. She just wasn’t sure when.
But it happened much sooner than she anticipated. Or wanted.
Here he stood, in her house, invading her personal space, destroying the shield around her heart that took her eighteen years to erect. He destroyed it in less than two seconds.
They walked into the kitchen. She turned to face him. Seemingly unperturbed, he scanned the room, his face totally impassive. The silence became deafening. Suffocating. Unbearable.
God, say something, Natasha.
She cleared her dry throat. “Drink?” Brilliant.
He turned his head in her direction, raised one eyebrow in a mocking manner.
“How civilized. Well, I guess we could start with that. Water, please.”
“Ice?”
“Yes.”
She stumbled to the fridge, took a bottle of water, then poured it into a glass. Damn, her hands trembled badly.
Forgot the ice.
With a silent oath, she fished a tray of cubes, then dumped a few into his glass.
“Have a seat.” She pointed to the table, pleased that at least her voice held firm.
“Ah, the perfect hostess,” Dmitry drawled sarcastically. “Drink, have a seat. What’s next? Weather? Stocks? Bonds?”
Enough.
With a loud thump, she plunked the glass on the table.
“I don’t care much for stocks or bonds, but if you wish, I can hold up my side of a conversation just fine.” She glared at him with her head held high. “And the weather is typical for late May in New England. Warm and comfortable. But I don’t think you came all the way here to discuss either of these topics.”
A ghost of a smile danced on his lips without reaching his eyes.
“How perceptive of you.”
“Just simple logic.”
“Logic.” As if tasting the word on his tongue, Dmitry repeated, “Logic, huh? Well, let’s talk about logic, then.”
Still standing, he picked up the glass of water she unceremoniously plopped on the table and brought it to his lips. Her gaze followed his every movement as if drawn by a magnet. After a single sip, he frowned into the glass, then lifted his eyes.
“Tell me, Natasha— or is it Tallie? — what logic can I draw from the fact that you, a woman who betrayed me for money long ago, had suddenly and conveniently resurfaced when more money beaconed on a horizon?”
Deceptively soft, his almost gentle voice set off the brutal meaning of his words. She fought hard not to flinch.
“It’s Natasha. Frankly, I don’t care what logic you may draw from it, but in your shoes, I’d wonder about something more important than money.”
Dmitry quirked a brow, all amused arrogance. “What’s more important than money?”
“Are you asking a rhetorical question, or wondering what’s more important than money to me?”
He took a step closer. “What’s more important than money to you, Natasha?”
“Trust. Loyalty.”
“Not love?”
She shook her head. “Without trust and loyalty, love is nothing.”
“I cannot agree with you more.” Without taking his eyes from her, he brought the glass to his lips again, took a long sip, then carefully put it on the kitchen table. “So, tell me, Natasha, if not money, what motivated you to betray me eighteen years ago?”
Oh, God. She held his gaze. “Love.”
“Same one that doesn’t exist without trust and loyalty?”
“Yes.”
“And what motivated you two weeks ago to contact my son?”
“Concern, confusion, and love.”
“Admirable.” Dmitry chuckled without any mirth. “Please forgive me, but I’m not buying it.”
Incredibly weary, unbelievably sad, she lowered her eyes as she pulled out a chair and sat. “Of course not. How can you buy something that has no monetary equivalent? There are some things, Dmitry, that are more valuable than your precious diamonds. But you wouldn’t understand.”
“Don’t you dare to mock me!” A temper she had seen rarely, if ever, now detonated like a grenade. “Don’t you dare sit here and mock me.”
She lifted her eyes to the enraged man towering over her. Regret, deep and profound, overshadowed all her feelings.
“I wasn’t mocking you, Dmitry. I was feeling sorry for you.”
Preordering is available on Amazon
Stella May is the penname for Marina Sardarova who has a fascinating history you should read on her website.
Stella writes fantasy romance as well as time travel romance. She is the author of ‘Till Time Do Us Part, Book 1 in her Upon a Time series, and the stand-alone book Rhapsody in Dreams. Love and family are two cornerstones of her stories and life. Stella’s books are available in e-book and paperback through all major vendors.
When not writing, Stella enjoys classical music, reading, and long walks along the ocean with her husband. She lives in Jacksonville, Florida with her husband Leo of 30 years and their son George. They are her two best friends and are all partners in their family business.Follow Stella on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest.
November 26, 2024
Wednesday Special Spotlight Thanksgiving
Enjoy sharing what you are thankful for this year.
Wednesday Special Spotlight Thanksgiving
Enjoy sharing what you are thankful for this year.
November 25, 2024
Tell Again Tuesday Agatha Christie wrote romance
Agatha Christie wrote romance novels under the name Mary WestmacottBy Sarah Anne Lloyd
Mystery stories require a meticulous structure, and emotions typically don’t drive the plot. This worked out well for Agatha Christie, who liked her public persona to be somewhat guarded, especially after her infamous 1926 disappearance caused a media ruckus. But Christie found a way to express herself more deeply while still maintaining her privacy: She wrote. . .
For the rest of the blog go to:November 21, 2024
Friday Features Time for Christmas Cards
If you are sending cards this year it’s time to start working on them so the post office gets them delivered on time. Do any of you even send Christmas Cards?
Christmas is Catherine’s favorite holiday. For years she changed every knickknack in the house to a Christmas decoration. She has a collection of nativities, a Christmas village, and an abundance of Christmas trees with at least five different themed sets of ornaments she uses to decorate. This year we are going a bit minimal. Not much reason to decorate a lot since it’s only for us.
Christmas cards have been a big deal in our house, too. We have a long-standing tradition of writing Christmas letters, filled with news of the year, and we often create our own Christmas stationary and even create our own Christmas cards. We’ve got to get busy with these projects.
Here’s one of our specially designed cards based on a Christmas window Donald painted at our church several years back. (Yes we have some artistic talent that we use on occasion.)
Born Under the Shadow of the Cross, original copyrighted art
For permission to reuse please contact author C.D. Hersh
The original drawing on the window did not have the dark sky and the radiated ribbons of color in the upper right hand corner because we couldn’t totally paint out the window. Those elements were added into the card to give drama. At night, the black sky in the church window had the same effect as painting out the sky in the card, minus the purple lines of color. This was a dramatic window in the evening. Note how the shadow of the cross creates the rooftop of the manger.
Have you created special holiday greetings? Are you going to do any this year? We’d love to hear about them.
November 19, 2024
Wednesday Special Spotlight Writing Tips
We recently came across an old email entitled Instructions for Life. The 45 positive recommendations on the list are meant to help make one’s life better. By turning some of the instructions upside down and we created bad life advice that will keep novel characters in turmoil.
Next time things are going too smoothly with your WIP try throwing one of these in the mix.
1. Let them believe in love at first sight, but fight it like it can’t exist.2. If they make a mistake, don’t let them be too quick to acknowledge it.
3. Let them fall in love deeply, passionately, and with people they would never choose. They might get hurt, but it’s the only way to live life completely.
4. Make them fight to keep their values, but make sure they do keep them. No one loves an un-heroic hero.
5. Remember silence is sometimes the best answer and unanswered questions are always suspect.
6. Let them dredge up the past; it makes for good conflicts.
7. Let them read between the lines … a lot. Miscommunication thickens the plot.
8. Let them slowly discover that not getting what they want is sometimes the best thing that ever happened.
9. Never let them mind their own business. You can’t get in trouble that way.
10. Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risks, and make them willing to risk everything to get their goals.
Do you have a favorite trick for keeping your characters in turmoil?
November 18, 2024
Tell Again Tuesday the Modern Prometheus
Mary Shelley wrote “Frankenstein” after being challenged by Lord Byron.By Bennett Kleinman
Mary Shelley’s Gothic masterpiece Frankenstein is one of the horror genre’s most formative works, but it may have never existed if not for a playful challenge. In 1816, Shelley — who was then unmarried and known by the surname Godwin — vacationed at Villa Diodati on Lake Geneva in Switzerland. She was accompanied by her future husband Percy Bysshe Shelley, her stepsister Claire Clairmont, English poet Lord Byron, and Byron’s physician John William Polidori. Weather conditions were abnormally unpleasant at the time due to the lingering effects of the eruption of Indonesia’s Mount Tambora the previous year, forcing the group to largely remain indoors. Amid the dark and frigid evenings . . .
For the rest of the blog go to:November 14, 2024
Friday Features Crossed Lines
—Mark Twain.
I (The C in C.D. Hersh) personally experienced Mr. Twain’s quote when the telephone company crossed our phone lines with that of another customer. Upon calling customer service, I explained the problem and noted something different about the employee’s accent.
“Where are you located?” I asked him.
“The Philippines,” he replied.
As he was unable to resolve my problem to my satisfaction I asked to speak to his supervisor. Big mistake, as the supervisor had a thicker accent. To make a long story short, I finally got through to the person on the other end of the line that they needed to check my phone records, or rather the phone records of the number I was calling from—which wasn’t my number, and they would see how to resolve the problem as this was the second time they had switched my phone line with this person.
After much checking and rechecking on what I’d said, the phone company employee gave me a time that they would attempt to fix the problem. He said the technician would come to our apartments and look in our phone boxes. I repeatedly told him neither of us lived in apartments and there should be no need for the technician to come into our homes. We lived in houses a mile apart and no one had been messing with our phone boxes. The problem was on their end, or rather in a relay box somewhere near where we live. I should have taken the hint right then that we weren’t on the same page, English-wise or culturally.
Then he said we should keep our phone lines open.
Now I don’t know what that meant to him, but to me it meant staying on the line. “Do you mean you want me to not hang up the phone?” I asked, wondering how that make any sense and how it was going to work for the allotted time to would take to fix the line.
“No,” he said, “keep it by your side.”
“Keep it by my side?” That made about as much sense as putting Godiva dark chocolates on a hot sidewalk. “Do you mean you want me to carry it around with me?” I asked.
“No,” he replied.
I searched my brain for another definition of keeping the line open. “Then do you want us not make any calls or take any calls on our lines?” I asked.
He said some other unintelligible phrase, obviously as frustrated as I was at his botched attempts. Finally, he blurted out, “Don’t unplug the phone.”
“Why would I do that?” I asked, completely bamboozled at his definition. That, I thought, would be a stupid thing to do, and had absolutely no relationship to the phrase “keep the lines open.” What he tried to express to me, with what appeared to be a very basic understanding of English, was as close to lightening as lightening is to a lightening bug.
Next time I have to deal with the phone company, I’m asking where the customer service employee is located, and calling back until I get someone in America. Hopefully, they’ll know the difference between lightening and the lightening bug.
November 11, 2024
Tell Again Tuesday Words of history
Famous Words From Major Moments in HistoryBy Nicole Villeneuve
Some of the most profound moments in history can be encapsulated in a single, memorable quote. These succinct phrases, often pulled from longer speeches or events, distill complex ideas into digestible gems. At their best, they act as verbal snapshots, capturing the essence of . . .
For the rest of the blog go to:November 7, 2024
Friday Feature Thank a Soldier
Military Cemetery Crosses by Petr Kratochvil
In 1918, on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, armistice was signed, ending the Great War—a war fought on what was known then as the Western Front. Thirty-six years later, on June 1, 1954, Congress changed Armistice Day to Veterans Day. President Dwight D. Eisenhower defined the day as a day for a grateful nation to honor veterans of all wars. Ninety-four years after the signing of Armistice our nation’s soldiers are still protecting us, and democracy, at home and around the world.
We don’t know about you, but both our fathers fought in WWII. We had high school friends and family who served in Vietnam. Donald served in the military during the Vietnam era. We have friends who spent their entire careers serving our county. Through his career Donald has worked with military service men and women. And we know families whose sons and daughters have chosen to step up and put their lives on the line to protect America and democracy, many of them ending up in Middle Eastern war-torn countries.
Today we don’t have a military draft. The men and women who serve choose to do so, often reenlisting when they know there is a good chance in today’s turbulent political atmosphere that they could end up on a war front. Yet they still go.
Being a warrior can be a thankless job, filled with danger, pain, homesickness, loss of life or limb, or terrible struggles readjusting to civilian life. These courageous men and women are making sure you and I can remain free. This November 11, on Veteran’s Day, find a soldier, a former soldier, or a family member of a soldier and tell them how much their dedication and sacrifice to liberty and freedom means to you. Let them know that they are not forgotten. If you can’t find a soldier, or one of their family members, then say a prayer for the safety of all our military people.
On a writing note, if you like to read military romances here are a couple of authors we recommend. Karen Foley and Catherine Mann.
Here is a sample of each author’s writing:
