Hi, I’m Gail Hart, author of grown up romances for grown up girls. Thanks so much to my RomVets sister-at-arms, Delilah Devlin, for having me as her guest.
On Saturday my favorite writing group held its first write-in of 2018, and somehow the conversation turned to religion—which at the moment is at least a safer topic than politics!
Turns out, one attendee is a descendant of Jews who immigrated from eastern Europe to east Texas around the turn of the twentieth century and converted to Catholicism. She observes both of the religious traditions she inherited.
Another was raised Catholic but now describes herself as a “heathen.”
I grew up in the Unitarian-Universalist church but hadn’t attended regularly in about two decades. Then a couple of years ago I heard that the nearest UU church was calling a new minister. On a whim I went to hear his candidate sermon. He hooked me by using humor to make serious points; by revealing that he met his wife at Starbuck’s; and by quoting one of my favorite movie lines, “What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?” (For those of you too young to remember, the line is from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and the correct answer is, “African or European?”) So I returned to the religion of my youth.
The heroine of my latest book, Her Magic Touch, goes on a religious journey of her own. Over the course of the story, Sarah trades Christianity for an earth-centered religion—despite the strong objections of the men in her life. I hope you’ll enjoy watching Sarah learn to follow her heart.
HER MAGIC TOUCH
Sarah Talbot is trapped in a life at odds with her free spirit. She wishes she had the guts to chuck the business world for something more creative. Until then, she’s eager to explore her newfound gift for casting spells. Too bad the hunky bartender who gets her all hot and bothered has had his fill of hocus-pocus.
Abandoned by his teenage mother, ex-Marine, personal trainer, and part-time bartender Matt Lucas grew up in the loving but chaotic home of his aunt, a quirky local witch. He longs to buy his own gym, meet a sensible businesswoman, and build a secure, conventional life. The last thing he wants is to fall in love with a witch.
Can love conjure the magic these two hearts need to thrive?
Tension snaked through Sarah’s body as she listened to the phone ringing on the other end. After five rings, she was ready to hang up when a woman’s voice came on the line, breathing heavily. “Hello?”
She took a deep breath and plunged in. “Hi. May I speak to Ms. Parker?”
“You are, but it’s Zoe.”
“I’m calling because I saw the article in the Post…”
“I know. I’ve been expecting your call. That’s why I answered, even though I’m in the middle of feeding the goats, instead of letting the call go to voicemail.”
“How can you have been expecting to hear from me? You don’t even know my name.”
Zoe’s tone was soothing. “Then tell me your name, daughter.”
“Umm, it’s Sarah. Sarah Talbot.”
“And you want to learn about developing your gift.”
She gripped the phone more tightly. “You probably get calls from a lot of kooks, but I’m not one of them, I swear… hold it, how did you know why I was calling?”
“As I said, I was expecting you. The universe told me you’d be coming to me for guidance.”
“The universe talks to you?”
“Of course. It speaks to you too. How do you think you found me?”
“Through the Washington Post.”
“Yes, dear, but why do you think the reporter was led to write that article at that time?”
“Are you saying…”
“I’m saying that when the student is ready, the teacher will appear.”
Before becoming a writer, former Romance Writers of America Golden Heart contest finalist Gail Hart spent a few years as an Air Force JAG, then settled in as a lawyer and manager for the US government. Despite what opposing counsel sometimes said about her briefs, she didn’t write any fiction until later in her career. She must have been destined to be a romance writer, though, because even the law review article she wrote had “sex” in the title. She spent most of her life on the east coast but now lives in San Antonio, where she doesn’t miss the cold