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Thursday, December 27th, 2012
I Often Give Myself Very Good Advice…
One of the most challenging aspects of writing romantic suspense is that you basically have to split yourself into pieces to get it done. If you’ve read Alice in Wonderland lately, you probably have a good idea of how romance writers operate – we spend a lot of time arguing with the creative side of our personality, which is approximately one part reckless adventurer, one part sex-crazed nympho, one part dark and scary gremlin, and one part petulant teenager. Together, all these parts operate the fingers to get the words on the page, but most of the time, it’s like herding cats.
First and foremost, there’s the romance, which is the heart and soul, and in a lot of ways, the easy part of the story, for me at least. Giving characters serious, toe-curling chemistry and then dumping them in a messy, impossible situation is the best part of the process. I don’t know about other writers, but I take great glee in making things as obnoxious for my hero and heroine as possible – after all, you don’t want to make it too easy for them, do you? It’s more satisfying if they have to work for it!
The second part of the process is the suspense, and this is where the serious challenge comes in, because you’re trying to accomplish a bunch of different things at once. You want the audience to wonder what’s coming next, you want them to worry about the characters, and you want to avoid anyone figuring out the puzzle before you’re ready. So, you have to write the conflict with all of its intricate little pieces, and then you have to go back and hide all of those pieces to keep your characters in the dark. Then you have to rewrite the story backwards, or so it seems – do all the pieces fit? Does it all make sense, or does the villain just reveal himself/herself out of nowhere without enough evidence?
And then you still have to wind the romance story thread back into the suspense and make the two threads complement each other and work together to tell one complete story.
It’s exhausting. And exhilarating.
The best emails I get are from readers going, “OMG, I never would have guessed he was the villain! So scary!” Those are the emails that make me hop up and down with delight, but I’d be lying if I said that the whole process isn’t a hair-pulling, nail-biting, coffee-swilling nightmare of a writing exercise that takes loads of outlining, structure, shredding of notes and ideas and sanity, and something no sane writer should undertake. Ever. Which is why, of course, I have two sequels planned for the Bright’s Ferry series – SAFE FROM THE FIRE, for February, and SAFE FROM THE STORM, for next summer. LOL.
Why?
Because, when it comes down to it, the cheerful, loving, playful, flirty persona is really only happiest when the crazed, deranged, “let’s write a serial killer storyline” persona has dragged the characters through the muck to make sure that they really deserve their happily ever after.
Isn’t writing fun?
Nursing a broken heart and a couple of bullet wounds, no-nonsense Evie Asher leaves her career with the NYPD to move into her grandmother’s old house in a small New England town in the middle of nowhere. She wants nothing more than a new start and a chance to forget the mistakes of the past and get her life back on track, minus the shootouts. Her plans are shattered when her new neighbor, the town’s hunky young mayor, starts receiving death threats from a dangerous stalker. Evie is unwillingly drawn back into a world of peril, and while her bruised heart tries to resist the out-of-control sparks that zing between them, she is forced to stay close to keep him safe as the stalking quickly turns to murder…
Colin Daniels has his hands full running Bright’s Ferry as their popular and busy young mayor. He doesn’t have time for stalkers or threats, much less a lovely gray-eyed cop with control issues who insists that the stalker is a member of the community, someone he knows and loves. When the situation takes a deadly turn, Colin finds that he has no choice but to give up some control himself and rely on Evie to protect him until they can unmask the killer. Passion sizzles between two stubborn hearts as they clash over the best way to handle a dangerous situation, but can they keep each other safe as the dark closes in?
SHIVERING AND COMPLETELY DRENCHED, Evie dropped her backpack on the Daniels’ porch. It was a beautiful hundred-year-old farmhouse that was obviously in the process of being restored – scaffolding protected a new wing off the side of the two-story structure. Evie spared only a quick glance around – her teeth were starting to chatter.
Fingers tight with cold, Evie raised a hand to knock.
Nothing.
Come on, come on. Read the rest of this entry »
Tagged: Guest Blogger
Posted in General | 8 People Said | Link
Last 5 people who had something to say: Lynda Bailey - ELF - Victoria - Melissa Porter - Lily Rede -
Wednesday, December 26th, 2012
The winning commenter for the Merry Christmas to You Contest is Ronnie Cornett!
Congrats, Ronnie! Send me an email to let me know where you want your gift cert sent!
* * * * *
Hmmm, I was supposed to have a guest today. Sorry, to the author, but I’m bumping her until tomorrow.
Her file is on my PC which is across the street. I’m housesitting for my daughter while she’s visiting her dad in DC. The day before yesterday when I packed, it was 60 degrees. Yesterday it rained throughout the day, and then last night it snowed. Snow on top of thick ice. I’m stuck. No coat. Definitely no boots. I have a vehicle, but it’s covered in a foot of powder and an inch of ice. So, I’m hunkering down until it warms up a bit today before I make a dash for my house.
So, I’ll leave you with a question…
When you’re wearing it, what type of clothing makes
you feel the most like the real you?
Question from “The Question Guys”
Posted in General | 38 People Said | Link
Last 5 people who had something to say: Sandra Pennese - Melissa Porter - Sharon Chalk - Rebecca Merz - Mary Preston -
Tuesday, December 25th, 2012
Just a note to wish you all a very, merry holiday, however you choose to celebrate!
My family celebrated yesterday. My dd and SIL headed to DC this morning, so I’ve moved to their house to take care of the 8-year-old, 3 dogs, and 5 cats for the week. I hope they don’t expect to come home to a clean house because amidst all that critter-caring, I have to write a book!
I’d love to hear about the lovely things you received or did. My standout gifts are a gorgeous, hand-crocheted afghan with Ganesh (half-boy, half-elephant Indian god) in the center, a rose-gold ring, a Fenton glass unicorn, and a lampwork bead-making kit—yes, someone trusts me with a torch in my hands! 😈
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Monday, December 24th, 2012
Craft Therapy – The Zen of Weaving
“You have a weaving class looming.”
Groan. My coworker said that to me and giggled about it for the rest of the afternoon, but he was onto something. I’ve written before about crafts and their benefits, and it’s something we have to keep learning over and over. Crafts bring pleasure but, more importantly, they bring us into the moment. That class looming over me for the day reminded me that my life isn’t all about my day job.
I take weaving classes at the Chicago Weaving School with Natalie Boyett. An amazing teacher, Natalie understands the Zen of art. She knows how to be gentle and she knows how to inspire. More than that, I find weaving puts me in the moment and while I’m working on the simple back-and-forth or counting, my mind relaxes. From there, it’s an easy jump into my story. Weaving makes me a better writer. I’m sure it has that beneficial effect on other walks of life too; my classes are full of teachers, nurses, and professionals of all stripes. We come because weaving is fun. We stay because it’s a way of life.
Too melodramatic for you? To New Age? Let me share with you the magic and you’ll see what I’m talking about.
My project is a simple kimono. The ancient art of kimono, developed in Japan over centuries, is a way of making clothes that shows off hand-woven fabrics. From simple to ornate, they require little cutting or shaping and are a perfect way to use the product of our handweaving.
I decided to use a pattern from a classic weaving book. A variation on a twill, it requires you to thread the heddles (put the yarn on the loom) in a certain order. The process of doing so is mechanical and not very artistic: put this thread in 1, this one in 3, that one in 2, then 4-3-1, then 2-1-4, or some other order. It’s painstaking and detailed.
It is, though, one half of the process of weaving. Once you’ve dressed the loom, you’re halfway done. Magic.
Once the loom is dressed, we weave a header to even out the threads and set the stage for our pattern. I’m using a lovely but fussy rayon thread for my warp, which is the red/blue in the photograph. My weft, the yarn I use to weave, is a rich teal.
After the header, we start with the pattern. This, too, is done in a particular order. The difference is that now we begin to see the magic that is weaving.
It looks like the thread is almost beaded, as the rayon shines like fire in the light. I can’t wait to see more of the fabric as it appears. It’s meditative. I look forward to my Thursday night classes all week, because I know I’ll get to spend four hours away from the world, in my little magic bubble of fiber. When I emerge, butterfly-like, it’s with a renewed appreciation for the art of our ancestresses and not a few plot ideas. As I weave, so shall I write.
And that, my friends, is the magic of craft.
Happy holidays!
—
“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”
– E.E. Cummings
My links: Blog | Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon | LinkedIn | Pandora
Knoontime Knitting: Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Ravelry
Noon and Wilder links: Blog | Website | Facebook
Team Blogs: Nightlight | The Writers Retreat Blog | Beyond the Veil | LGBT Fantasy Fans and Writers
Publishers: Samhain Publishing | Torquere Press
Check out BURNING BRIGHT, available from Samhain Publishing.
Check out EMERALD FIRE, available from Torquere Books.
Check out “Taking a Chance“, part of the Charity Sips 2012 to benefit NOH8, available from Torquere Books.
Watch for TIGER TIGER, coming July, 2013, from Samhain Publishing.
Tagged: Guest Blogger
Posted in General | 12 People Said | Link
Last 5 people who had something to say: ronnie cornett - Melissa Porter - Mary Preston - ELF - Rachel Wilder -
Sunday, December 23rd, 2012
NEW CHRISTMAS TRADITION
This year there seemed to be more than the usual amount of ugly Christmas sweaters. Our family decided this year to embrace the spirit of the season, by wearing the loudest, ugliest and perhaps most tasteless sweaters we could find.
Of course, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What my son-in-law bought for my daughter as a gag gift, turns out to actually be something I’d wear. LOL. Yes. I admit it. I like to wear bold colors and sparkly things. It used to embarrass my kids no end, and often they didn’t want me to get out of the car when I picked them up at school, for fear their friends would see me. We had a pink house, too, but that’s another story (my attempt to make our home look like the Sonoma Mission Inn that failed).
So, this is the collection. I bought the one in the upper middle for my husband. My daughter bought the light blue one for her husband. Perhaps you’d like a closer look.
Well, we are a family that reads hot romance, so what do you expect?
I also have a little Christmas cheer for you. Everyone who comments on this blog will be given a free short SEAL Endeavor or SEAL Encounter, Kindle format. Please leave your email in your comment.
Here’s a little blurb from my new release, Fallen SEAL Legacy, book 2 of the SEAL Brotherhood series, just released this month. One commenter will be sent a set of dog tags, as pictured below.
Fallen SEAL Legacy excerpt:
 A tall shadow fell through the glass and ornate metal front doors of the Brownlee house. The melodic doorbell chime came all the way from an abandoned abbey in the South of France. Whoever he was, Libby Brownlee thought, he’d not be able to get through the doorway without ducking, or smacking himself in the forehead.
“Yes?” She didn’t remove the brass chain connecting the door to the door frame. It couldn’t really stop anyone, especially someone of his size. What she saw scared her, but not in the way she expected. He was a handsome, very, very tall and fair-haired young man about her age. His piercing blue eyes didn’t stray from hers as he coolly nodded his head, and took inventory of her character, without peeling his gaze from hers.
She felt undressed, yet powerless to cover up. But she didn’t look away.
“Ma’am, I’m looking for the Brownlee family.” He said this as he ducked his head and leaned forward. She observed he was trying to make himself smaller. The effort made him look huge.
“This is the Brownlee residence.” Her response was worthy of a domestic. No need to let him know she was a relative.
“My name is Special Operator Calvin Cooper. I’m…”
“I know what a Special Operator is.”
He smiled but continued, “—currently serving in the Navy. I’ve been asked to reach out to the family of Special Operator William Brownlee.”
“Uncle Will.” She bit her tongue. Too late to take it back. “My father’s brother. I never met him. He’s been dead for many years, before I was born.” Libby looked at the ground, but was soon distracted by the size of the young man’s canvas slip-ons. The light brown hair on his ankles and lower legs, punctuated by light purple scars, blazed in the afternoon sun.
A surfer.
“Yes, ma’am. That’s the reason I’m here.”
“It’s a little late for a color guard. He get awarded a medal posthumously or something?”
The sailor stepped back and put his eyelids at half-mast after a flash of anger. He appeared way calmer than she knew he really was. The control was impressive. No matter how hard she looked, the anger did not surface again. He licked his lips and began to speak, softer this time.
“Look. I don’t want to be here any more than you want me, so let’s just get this over with, so I can tell my Chief I tried to reach out and you guys slammed the door in my face, okay?”
Well, this wasn’t the wrinkle she’d expected. “Fine.” She removed the chain, opened the door and the lumbering giant walked in. He smelled like he’d just figured out how to wear aftershave. Something told her he didn’t do it very often.
He scanned the large two-story living room with the carved wood ceiling done in Spanish florets. His eyes lit on the three-foot tall bouquet of fresh flowers her mother put on the coffee table every day—bounty from her extensive flower garden. Behind the table, a bright red velvet couch was covered with lime and fuchsia-colored silk flowered pillows. No one ever sat there, Libby mused. If they did, they’d be buried in the pillows, and hidden from view by the bouquet.
Rest in Peace.
“My mother takes pride in her flower garden.” She said. He had been staring at the blooms.
He tore his eyes off the display, and, without saying a word, continued to scan the archway that led to the kitchen, then back around to the walls of the foyer and a view of the grand metal staircase leading upstairs to the bedrooms.
His silence made her nervous. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to say something.
“This is about a hundred times the size of my place.” He regarded her with a crooked smile she couldn’t read. “Kinda like living in a church, although not like a church I ever attended.”
Our house looks like a church?
“Where do you live? On base?” she asked.
“No ma’am. I have a motor home I keep parked at the Silverdale Beach.”
“Wow.” A homeless Navy SEAL?
“Exactly. Got the whole ocean as my back yard.”
“Sounds—different.”
“It’s all I need.”
“Okay. Well, what’s this about? Your visit, I mean.”
“Did he have a family, or someone close, other than your family?”
“He is our family. I just never knew him.” She realized she was being short. “My grandparents are both gone, and my father was his only brother, perhaps he would know.” Libby started tracing the grout line of the marble floor with her toe. “Look, I’m going to need some answers here. You have to kind of spell it out for me. We don’t speak military in this house.”
“I can tell.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t speak military, and I didn’t bring an interpreter.”
“I think you should speak to my father.”
“That would be good.”
“Except he isn’t here. Maybe another time?”
She caught him eyeing the front of her cotton shirt, like he could see right through it without unbuttoning it. With an involuntary jerk, he was focused on her eyes again. It was very odd she didn’t feel afraid of him, like she had every other man who showed interest in her lately. Her heartbeat elevated and her breathing became shallow.
“When will he be here?” His voice sent a tingle down her spine.
“He gets home about four-thirty. But I wouldn’t waste your time unless you can tell me what you want.” She started for the door and he followed behind her. At the front, she stopped, and turned around. “I’m waiting.” She tapped her foot to an invisible drummer.
The giant nodded, but faced his own shoes as he responded to her command, “I’ve been asked to do a little research on S.O. Brownlee. It’s an order from my Chief.”
“And why would the Navy want to contact my family? What purpose would it serve?”
“It’s just what we do. I was given his name when I got my Trident. I’m supposed to know about him. I’m a SEAL as well.”
“After all these years? Why now? Why not let the dead remain dead? Why bother my father?”
The sailor shrugged, looked up at the ceiling, adjusting his stance. With a sigh, he turned his gaze back on Libby. She felt herself melt under the press of his intense study.
Cooper took a deep breath, and continued, “Because, I’ve just lost mine.”
* * * * *
 Merry Christmas, everyone. Hope your holiday is very merry and very bright.
Sharon Hamilton
Sharon’s Blog ** Sharon’s Website ** Facebook**Twitter
Accidental SEAL SEAL Encounter Fallen SEAL Legacy SEAL Endeavor all available through Amazon Heavenly Lover (Amazon) (Nook) Underworld Lover (Amazon) (Nook) Honeymoon Bite (Amazon) (Nook)
Posted in General | 47 People Said | Link
Last 5 people who had something to say: donnas - Fedora - Mary Preston - Victoria - Karen Roma -
Saturday, December 22nd, 2012
Ashley A won the free download! Ashley, email me! ~DD
* * * * *
Begin with the end in mind.
I’m pretty sure I learned that from some Steven Covey productivity/time management seminar back when I worked in the corporate world. And while that works for me when I set my schedule, it almost never does when I sit down to write a book. Yes, I know vaguely that at the end, boy saves girl/girl saves boy, kiss-kiss, I’ll love you forever will happen, but I don’t have the particulars concerning the ending. I like to let it happen. Endings are nearly as important as the opening of a story. A good opening ensures a reader will continue the story. A good ending ensures a reader will close the book with a sigh and a smile.
The one time I knew absolutely what would happen at the end of the story was the ending for Jacq’s Warlord. This was a story that my sister and I co-wrote. While she was working on some saggy middle dilemma, I was thinking about the ending, and it came to me as clear as day. So I wrote it before we’d even gotten to the first turning point of the story. It worked. And helped me figure out where the characters needed to go in their personal journeys to lead them to that moment.
Hope you enjoy it and that it makes you want to read the rest of the story!
If you enter a comment today, you’ll be entered to win
a free download of this book!
“…Set in the time and in the battles fought as Henry takes the English throne, the combination of battle action and sexy romance makes this story a standout.” ~ 5 Stars, Just Erotic Romance Reviews
With proportions that would make Xena weep, Jacqueline Frazier despairs of ever finding a lover she can’t intimidate. Until the day she ignores an itty-bitty warning regarding the use of a family heirloom, and finds herself swept off her feet by a knight in not so shining armor, back to the twelfth century. Forced to accept the protection and sexual attentions of the overbearing, beast of a man, Rufus of Rathburn, Jacq struggles to find her place in the past while searching for a way back to the future. In the meantime, she aids Rufus’s war cause with a little 21st century ingenuity. Nothing like shaking up the warlord with lessons in bomb-making, guerilla tactics, and the Joys of Sex.
At first unwilling, and downright ungrateful, Rufus begins to see merit in Jacq’s odd ways. Through Jacq’s eccentricities and wilfulness, Rufus learns she is a woman to be reckoned with, not to mention she is a lusty handful in bed. Will his admiration of her cunning, strength and uninhibited sexuality grow into a love that breaks the barriers of time? And will their love be strong enough for Jacq to plot a different future in the past?
The day couldn’t have been more perfect for a wedding. What better way to celebrate than with the sun rising in a clear blue sky? Jacq knew she would never take sunshine for granted in merry Old England.
Preparations for the wedding had been underway since well before dawn. Everyone had conspired to let Jacq sleep late. As if she could.
She had woken with the first rays of sunlight spilling through the windows. Dust motes, gilded by the rays, danced in the faint breeze. Jacq had promised herself she wouldn’t think about chores. Especially not today.
Jacq hugged herself and spun around in her nightshift as giddy as a schoolgirl attending her first dance. She was about to marry the most gloriously imperfect man. Her protector, the conqueror of her heart. Her one regret was her father wouldn’t be there to share her happiness.
But today, she would shed no tears. She hoped he’d received her message and that he understood her choice. Her father had prepared her all her life for this adventure, now was the time for her to make him proud.
She stood before a polished silver mirror Enid had produced. She was still too tall and her features were still too strong to ever be considered beautiful. But now, instead of gawky angularity, she noted the softness to her features. Her love for her husband-to-be, for the child growing in her womb and for the new family of friends surrounding her, gave her a feeling of serenity and acceptance.
She smoothed the skirt of the russet silk dress—another of Enid’s miracles—with her hands, and pulled at the cream-colored lace at the points of her sleeves until it fell in graceful folds. The people of Rathburn would find no fault in her appearance today. She was well suited in stature and temperament to be the bride of the Lord of Rathburn.
Jacq left her black hair loose to fall in a cascade of curls down her back. Rufus preferred it that way. Then she lifted a crown of thornless white rosebuds with their shiny green leaves intertwined to place on top of her head.
Annie had delivered the fragrant crown to her room earlier. For once, the child was clean and someone had brushed her long hair, uncovering that surprising hint of gold in her tresses. Her excitement had shone in her eyes as she reverently passed the arrangement to Jacq. The gift was from Rufus, she’d said, and the men had teased him ruthlessly while he’d cursed at every prick of thorns he suffered as he prepared her gift.
Jacq’s eyes misted.
Rufus was learning some softness too.
A knock at the door told her it was time to go. Donald’s broad shoulders filled the doorway. He gave her a long look, and then grinned. “Rufus is luckier than he deserves, milady. You’re bloody beautiful.”
Jacq didn’t bother to correct him—she felt “bloody” beautiful. She followed Annie and Donald down the long staircase and out the doors of the keep, and was blinded for a moment by the brightness of the sunlight.
A loud cheer rose from around her, startling her. Once her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she saw all the people she had come to love spilling out into the bailey.
From the center of the crowd, Rufus strode forward with a ferocious frown on his face.
Her heart lightened in response.
She understood he was just as impatient for the wedding to be over as she was. The ruddy color in his cheeks told her he liked what he saw every bit as much as she was pleased with his appearance. The plush green surcoat, pulled taut across his massive shoulders, complemented the brown leggings he wore beneath.
Her hands itched to test the strength she knew rippled in the muscles there. She still couldn’t believe she would have the right to explore this mountain of a man for the rest of their lives.
As he drew near, he circled an arm around her and pulled her close for a kiss. His lips and tongue danced teasingly over hers to the delight of the boisterous crowd. He drew away, still frowning ferociously. “Damnation, Jacq, did you have to be so beautiful today? We’ve hours before I can admire you properly.”
With a saucy grin, she held out her hand to him. “Then why are you wasting daylight?”
Rufus grasped her fingers and proceeded to drag her to the church to end his misery. But Jacq dug her feet into the earth, bringing them both to a halt.
When he turned back to see what was the matter, his heart skittered to a stop.
Jacq’s face was pale and she stared at something over his shoulder. With his hand on his sword, he spun to defend the woman he loved above life itself.
Beyond the gates of the keep, a roiling cloud of mist swept up to the entrance, then halted. Sunlight glinted on the droplets of moisture and splintered into the many colors of a rainbow. From the center of the cloud a figure strode forward.
He heard Jacq’s ragged sob a moment before she tore her hand from his and ran for the gate. The man, older than Jacq, but unmistakably related by the looks of him, dropped the many bags he carried and swept Jacq into his arms. They twirled in a circle, both of them laughing giddily.
Rufus allowed Jacq her moment of joy in greeting her father, then walked over to join them.
They had a wedding to finish and the wedding night to begin.
* * * * *
Be sure to check out the snippets on these other authors’ blogs:
Lissa Matthews
Rhian Cahill
Myla Jackson
Caris Roane
McKenna Jeffries
Taige Crenshaw
HelenKay Dimon
Shiloh Walker
Eliza Gayle
Lauren Dane
Felicity Heaton
TJ Michaels
Tagged: excerpt
Posted in About books..., Contests! | 22 People Said | Link
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Friday, December 21st, 2012
Writer’s Support
I’m a believer that writers need a lot of support. The family- making sure the writer gets the time in to write, for some, maybe read what they wrote, if the writer wants to share. To rejoice in the milestones, to spread the word….and so on and so forth. I know not every writer has that. I’ve heard stories where the families don’t show that kind of support, and that startles me. I am surrounded by so many people that do show me support. My mom and dad have a copy of my book. In fact, my dad snatched my proof copy and wouldn’t give it back until he finished the story. My dad has always been an honest person, and he was touched by my book. He shares my excitement with all the milestones so far. He is the one that gave me the love of reading, and was never ashamed to admit that I’m a faster reader than he is. Lol.
My mom used to buy me tons of books, and it’s because I wanted them! Christmases, I got piles and piles of books! She bought me the spiral notebooks and pens so that I could write. I wrote my first poem at 12, after suffering the loss of a neighbor who was far too young to leave this world, and so I wrote about it. I stuck the poem in my headboard and I guess my mom came across it, and showed it to our neighbor, the grandmother of that sweet baby girl we lost.
My husband, who is also another honest person. Sometimes he’s blunt, even too blunt. But he supports my dream of writing, and he read through my now published book, edited it, formatted it, helped with the print copy process, and even shares it on his Facebook wall for his friends to see. He doesn’t read romance, he’s more of a fantasy reader (Terry Goodkind, David Farland) but he enjoyed my book.
My best friends, some of my writer buddies and partners….Where would I be without any of them? Could I write without the support of others? I think so, but it’s still really great to have those on my side, to share the ups and downs of this process.
Most of all, to bloggers/revewiers and readers. They are the driving force for me. Yes, I’d write just for the sake of writing, I always have, but it’s the response that I’ve gotten already that tells me I’m doing something right as a writer. I’ve gotten some great reviews that brought me to tears, and frankly, I’m still in the clouds. I may not come down for awhile.
If you’re a writer, I hope that you always follow your dreams, even if you do or don’t get the support, but know that there’s always someone that loves what you do.
I just wanted to share my thoughts on that today. Thank you for allowing me to do thank, thank you for reading, and thank you to my host today for sharing my words.
* * * * *
The magic of Christmas has been lost to Jacob Winston. At the suggestion of his ill sister, Jacob takes a job as a Secret Santa at the mall, hoping to restore his Christmas spirit. Even that doesn’t seem to work, until a special little boy ambles up to make a very special wish…
Cheyenne Jensen is struggling to raise her two kids without the help of her ex-husband who refuses to acknowledge his daughter’s existence and doesn’t provide for the son he does. This Christmas is shaping up to be as heartbreaking as the last, until her son Ben’s kind actions lead a stranger to them.
Ah, but it’s Christmas time and the magic has begun.
When Jacob and Cheyenne meet, neither can deny their immediate attraction to one another. As situations arise that require they spend more time together, their feelings grow stronger and stronger.
With Christmas fast approaching, the pair learn what matters most in life. Now, if only they could ditch the ghost of Christmases past.
Maybe this holiday will bring some wishes come true- for everyone after all.
Excerpt from The Secret Santa Wishing Well:
Jacob wasn’t far from her mind even when they weren’t talking. Ben brought his name up constantly, admiration and love in his voice. He really liked Jacob. One night while tucking him into bed, Ben said something that melted Cheyenne’s heart.
“The wishing well with Santa worked. He brought Jacob to us. Jacob made sure my wish came true. He really does know Santa!” He’d said sleepily, closing his eyes with a big smile on his face. But the words he said rang in her ears. What was his wish? With everything going on lately, Ben’s wish had slipped her mind.
So when Jacob called that evening, she mentioned it to him. Asked him. “What was Ben’s wish that day, Jacob?”
“Hmm?” he asked, obviously startled. Distracted again.
“Ben said that the wishing well with Santa worked, that it brought you to us. I’m curious what his wish was.” Cheyenne leaned back into the couch, covering herself with the blanket. She wanted to turn up the heat, but debated against it. Ben and Desiree were warm enough, so why couldn’t she get warm? If she turned the heat up anymore, she’d suffocate. Not to mention the electric bill.
Jacob hesitated before answering. “He wished for you not to have to work so hard. That he could have a family, a daddy that loved him.” Oh, Ben. No wonder he thought Jacob was the answer. Jacob had been there ever since the wish, since Ben met him. He thought Jacob would be the daddy he always wanted? That’s why he was so happy when he saw Jacob and Cheyenne exchange a hug or a quick kiss.
He had his sights set high. Way too high. While she wanted the best for Ben, he couldn’t go on thinking that Jacob was going to be a dad to him. Jacob had his own life, though he’d been sharing time with them, it wouldn’t last long, would it? With whatever he was dealing with that kept him at a distance, she predicted it wouldn’t. Call it a fear, call it intuition, call it stupid, but when someone didn’t give their undivided attention and seemed to be shrouded in mystery, it couldn’t end well.
Cheyenne willed the tears not to fall. What a wish for a six year old. While her pride for her son was evident, the fact that a little boy had to wish for things like that tore her up.
“Cheyenne? You okay?” Jacob’s deep voice made her heart beat faster.
“I was just taken back. Wow. He shouldn’t have to wish for love from his father. That’s terrible.”
“It is. But you’re doing all you can. You can’t control what his dad does, Cheyenne. You have to know that. Ben looks up to you. He thinks the world of you.”
“He’s growing up too fast. Sometimes he’s so much wiser than six. I don’t always know how to react, or feel about that.” A chill ran down her spine, spouting goosebumps on her arm. She tried to shift positions, cover all of herself. “I wish you were here.” She blurted.
Oh God, why did I say that out loud? What was I thinking?
“I didn’t expect to hear that from you.” Jacob’s voice went low, raspy.
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All About Nikki: Nikki Lynn Barrett lives in Arizona with her husband and son. She’s an avid reader, a dreamer, and loves everything about books. She runs a book blog, an online used bookstore, and writes various genres of romance. Nikki can also be found outside with her camera when a storm is near, snapping photo after photo. Her dreams of becoming a writer started when she was young, when she started writing books in one subject notebooks by the fifth grade. The Secret Santa Wishing Well is her debut book. You can visit Nikki’s site at: www.nikkilynnbarrett.blogspot.com for more information. She is working on her next book. Nikki would love to hear from readers. Email her at nikkilynnbarrett@yahoo.com
Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/NikkiLynnBarrettauthor
Twitter: @Stormgoddess925
GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6583655.Nikki_Lynn_Barrett
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