The fifth book for Oyster Harbor series was a blast to write. It was my first time writing slightly older characters. We’re talking adult children and emotional baggage on top of the usual relationship problems. I’m happy to say the steam level didn’t go down at all. In fact, Thelma and Tom might be the hottest couple ever in Oyster Harbor!
Thelma’s Song by Afton Locke
historical romance/women’s fiction Release Date: 19 November 20—TODAY!
Order from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BK715P93 Other vendors: https://books2read.com/u/mY8lzW Amazon Oyster Harbor series: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074CCLCMK
Though her bluesy voice can bring grown men to tears, Thelma Waters moves to Oyster Harbor for a peaceful life—avoiding singing and men. Anything to forget her wild youth as a performer, so addicted to fame she’d do anything to get it. When Tom Lewes—Oyster Harbor’s remaining bigot—hires her as a lounge singer to save his failing restaurant, he stirs up more than her old talent.
His obsession with profits reminds her of every man who used her, especially the one who shattered her heart. Meanwhile, his grief over his daughter’s death intensifies when restaurant renovations uncover a shocking secret. Reminding her of the child she lost so long ago.
And as soon as Oyster Harbor restores what Thelma has craved for so long, her dreams of family are ripped away, turning her song of joy to the bluest of blues. Will Tom be the answer to her prayers, or her biggest heartache yet?
Silence hung between her and Tom, thick and greasy as a lump of lard left out in the summer heat. Frozen, she watched the flush rise up his neck and fill his face. No wonder he served a drink called Red Tide.
What would he do? Break all business ties with her? Or worse? At the moment, she didn’t care what he did. She simply needed to get away from him.
“Miss Waters, don’t ever strike me again,” he said quietly, “or there will be consequences.”
Ignoring the fine trembling working her legs, she took a step closer to him. “What does that mean? Tying me to a tree like poor Jimmy Clark?”
“I never touched a hair on his head,” he shot back.
“You were there. Cali told me everything.” Luckily, Jonathan had reformed.
“Do you want to be punished?” Tom asked. “Because it seems you’re itching for a fight.”
He was right about that. Her fingers ached to throw his sorry ass into the washing machine then iron his face. No need to add starch because he already had plenty.
Instead, she burst into tears. Couldn’t stop. When it came to Letty, she had no strength.
“Easy. Easy,” he muttered, patting her arm. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, for Christ’s sake.”
“Watch your language,” she said between sniffles. “You’re nothing but a heartless heathen. You know that?”
“You’re probably right.” He looped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”
“Letty may mean nothing to you, but today….” Her voice broke. “Today is her eighteenth birthday. Or would have been, if she’s not drawing breath anymore.”
“I didn’t know.”
She turned her head to look at him. The arrogant smirk was gone. His eyes, contrite. The skin below them, puffy.
He stiffened and dropped his hands when she traced a soft fingertip under his lower eyelids. “Wh-what are you doing?”
“You’ve been crying too,” she whispered.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, turning his face aside.
“I’ve done it enough to know what it looks like. Did my singing do that to you?”
“I suppose,” he said, shrugging. “The one song really— Well, it shook me up, kind of.”
Her legs stopped trembling. She even smiled. “That’s what the blues are supposed to do.”
“I’ve probably been working too hard lately,” he said, giving his shoulders a good shake.
Their gazes met and held. She struggled to look away but failed. Truth was, it felt good to get angry for a change. The sadness wore at her every day. Like sandpaper.
This man knew her sadness. Breathed its same stench. Endured the same tentacles squeezing his heart. Even if he wouldn’t admit it.
Now, her legs simply felt weak. Her entire body did. The performance, topped off by their fiery argument, had taken every bit of her strength. She rested her hands on his shoulders and laid her head against his chest.
His tall, solid frame felt so good. His heart thrumming against her ear, music. It had been so long since she’d been with a man.
A strong finger pressed her jaw and tilted her face up. It was the last thing she recalled before drowning in a tidal wave of hot, deep kissing. Beard stubble—black as his hair—brushed across her cheek. Ground against her neck, along with his open mouth.
Tasting. Sucking. Claiming. Until every nerve ending in her body shrieked with ecstasy.
She drew back, giving her pounding heart a rest before it exploded. “I-I thought we weren’t going to kiss anymore.”
“I guess we changed our minds,” he murmured against her ear.
About Afton Locke
Afton Locke is a USA Today Bestselling Author who writes outside the box. Her trips always inspire her, sometimes years after they’re over. She lives with her husband, usually surrounded by animals, both wild and domestic. When she’s not writing, Afton enjoys hiking, cooking, reading, and watching retro TV.
When I read this line penned in Maya Angelou’s poem, “And Still I Rise,” the inspirational example of a woman like Mary Eliza Mahoney comes to my mind.
Mary was born in the spring of 1845 in Boston Massachusetts to former slaves. They had moved to Boston from North Carolina in search of a better life for themselves and their children.
At age ten, Mary attended the Phillips School, one of the first integrated schools in Boston. By eighteen, she knew she wanted to be a nurse and began working at the New England Hospital for Women and Children. For fifteen years, she acted as janitor, cook, washerwoman, and finally as a nurse’s aide, where she got hands-on experience with the nursing profession. In 1878, at the age of thirty-three, Mary’s diligence and work ethic gained her admittance to the hospital’s professional graduate school for nursing, despite not meeting the age range criteria of being twenty-one to thirty-one. The program, which ran for sixteen months, offered lectures and first-hand experience in the hospital. Of the forty-two students that entered the program in 1878, Mary was one of four to graduate in 1879, making her the first African American in the US to earn a professional nursing license. Due to racial discrimination in the public sphere, Mary worked as a private care nurse, mostly, but not solely, for white wealthy families.
Because the nursing associations she was active in were not always welcoming to blacks, she co-founded the National Association of Colored Graduate Nurses in 1908. The mission of the NACGN was to improve educational access for black women to nursing practices, raise their living standards, and change the poor perception society had of them. It existed until 1951 when it merged with the American Nurses Association.
In 1911, Mary became the director of the Howard Orphanage Asylum for black children in Kings Park, Long Island and served until 1912.
After forty years, she finally retired from nursing but not from advocacy. When the 19th Amendment was ratified in August 1920, Mahoney was among the first women who registered to vote in Boston.
Mary lived until she was eighty and died of breast cancer on January 4, 1926. Ten years later her achievements were honored by having an award named after her to recognize individual nurses or groups of nurses who promote integration in the nursing field. One of those honorees campaigned to have a monument erected in her honor. In 1973, the monument was dedicated at her gravesite. In 1993, Mary was inducted into the National Women’s Hall of Fame in Seneca Falls, New York.
Many African-Americans, male and female—myself included—are the embodiments of the dreams and hopes of their enslaved ancestors. I’m glad to have learned of the dream and the hope that was Mary Eliza Mahoney.
For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, share your thoughts on Mary’s story or on anyone you can think of who paved the way for others.
One Breath Away
Sentenced to hand for a crime she didn’t commit, former slave Mary Hamilton was exonerated at literally the last gasp. She returns to Safe Haven, broken and resigned to live alone. Never having been courted, cuddled or spooned, Mary now fears any kind of physical intimacy when arousal forces her to relive the asphyxiation of her hanging. But then the handsome stranger who saved her shows up, stealing her breath from across the room and promising so much more.
Wealthy freeborn-Black Eban Thurman followed Mary to Safe Haven, believing a relationship with Mary was foretold by the stars. He must marry her to reclaim his family farm. But first he must help her heal, and to do that means revealing his own predilection for edgier sex.
Then just as Eban begins to win Mary’s trust, an enemy from the past threatens to keep them one breath away from love…
Excerpt…
He shouldn’t have agreed to the marriage stipulation, but Judah wouldn’t return the land to a bachelor. At the time marrying hadn’t entered Eban’s mind. Without Nora, he had no desire to leave a legacy anyway. And after sampling women of many races, Eban accepted he’d never marry. Then the stars changed his mind.
He glanced at them now. They shimmered as they had the night of that fateful watch. According to the first mate who swore by astrology, he’d perceived a special celestial alignment for Eban. The stars foretold a coupling resulting from a rescue in which Eban would meet his wife. Having found Mary, Eban knew that prophecy would be fulfilled.
“How could ya have believed ya heritage held no worth for ya without Nora?”
Eban blenched, though he shouldn’t have been surprised his aunt knew where his thoughts had gone and had headed him off at the pass.
He clucked his teeth. “To tell the truth—”
His aunt snorted. “That’d be a nice change.”
Eban frowned, but ignored the barb and continued. “I came home, not to reclaim Heart’s Ease, but to assuage my curiosity. Secretly I’d hoped to find Nora as miserable as I was. Then I met Mary.” Mary. He chuckled. “After meeting her, I see how short-sighted—how Esau-like—I’ve been.”
He glanced up again. “She’ll marry me, Clem. It’s written right there in the sky, and the stars don’t lie.”
Fall is my favorite season. The leaves turn to gorgeous red, orange and yellow. The air grows crisp with the hint of the fading summer during the day, and the cool promise of winter at night.
At the marsh, the Great Blue Heron and other water birds move through the brown reeds in search of food as Canada Geese fly south for the winter.
Along the shoreline, the cries of gulls pierce the air as they glide overhead against the backdrop of the crashing waves.
With colorful leaves gliding to the ground in carefree swirls, squirrels are gathering acorns, carrying them to their nests or burying them before winter arrives.
Peering up from the forest floor, the last few flowers spear through the brown blanket of leaves like nature’s fireworks.
Though busy preparing for the winter, against the fleeting warmth of the day, this fox curls up to enjoy a well-deserved nap. Winter will be here soon, but for now, it’s time to enjoy nature’s beauty at fall.
Contest
***ONE winner will be drawn from everyone who posts on my guest blog post about, ‘Nature’s Beauty at Fall!’ on Delilah’s blog between 13 November 2022 – 20 November 2022 and will win a signed copy of His Woman.”
About Diana Cosby
A retired Navy Chief, Diana Cosby is an international bestselling author of Scottish medieval romantic suspense. Books in her award-winning MacGruder Brothersseries have been translated into five languages. Diana has spoken at the Library of Congress, Lady Jane’s Salon in NYC, and appeared in Woman’s Day, on USA Today’s romance blog, “Happy Ever After,” MSN.com, Atlantic County Women Magazine, and Texoma Living Magazine.
After her career in the Navy, Diana dove into her passion – writing romance novels. With 34 moves behind her, she was anxious to create characters who reflected the amazing cultures and people she’s met throughout the world. After the release of the bestselling MacGruder Brothersseries and The Oath Trilogy, she released the bestselling The Forbidden Series.
Diana looks forward to the years of writing ahead and meeting the amazing people who will share this journey.
For many, November marks the beginning of the holiday season… for better or for worse. I believe most people would agree that the holidays are very polarizing. For a great number of people, it is a time of joy. They tend to get into a tizzy grocery shopping, cooking, decorating, and whipping up holiday delights in the kitchen (or at the bar). This time of year is often one of reflection, being thankful for our many blessings, and extending kindness and generosity to those less fortunate.
For others, the holidays may be a struggle emotionally, financially, or both. It is a time of great sadness and anxiety. Although they outwardly may put on a stoic smile and brave front, they may be fighting many internal demons and turmoil. Sometimes, their distress is a result of not having the financial means to provide gifts for their families and loved ones. Seeing the commercialization of the holidays is hard to ignore. Not having the basic needs of food, clothing, and shelter may be accentuated with media images of people who have an abundance of these things. It may be difficult to see blessings when one has so little. Still, for others, their depression may stem from loneliness—not having family or friends to spend time together.
The Bible verse Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8 (which was popularized in The Byrds’ 1965 song Turn! Turn! Turn!) states, “To everything, there is a season and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” The holidays should be a season of joy, but for the ones who it is a season of misery, it should be an objective for others to bring some type of peace or, at least, make the attempt.
What does any of this have to do with memory keeping? Regardless of what the holiday brings, many people are so caught up in the moment and rushing that they fail to give it the proper attention that stores it as a memory. Think back. How many Thanksgivings and Christmases (Hanukkahs, Kwanzaas, etc.) do you remember? Who was present at each? What gifts did you receive and give? What did you eat? What did the decorations look like? When pondering these questions, many people will have some answers but not all. Some people will recall more memories, and some memories may be more vivid than others. When holidays become a struggle, may be difficult to remember a time when they weren’t. Memory keeping during the holidays is a way to preserve the good season and a reason to search for any good in seasons not so joyous.
So, what are some ways to memory keep?
Photos/videos. This is likely the most obvious and is self-explanatory.
Scrapbooking. Again, this is self-explanatory.
Journaling. This is a very inexpensive and effective way to keep holiday document holiday memories.
Keepsakes. There is no minimum or maximum number of keepsakes that one may elect to collect. And the best feature about keepsakes is that they could be anything. A friend kept the label from a bottle of wine that was used to make a toast. Another friend made a blanket from the matching Christmas pajamas she and her family had worn throughout the years. Another friend has an album of received holiday cards.
Time capsules. Before packing everything away to store for another year, take an item that holds a special memory from each year and store them together. A common item would be a Christmas ornament, but it doesn’t have to be. When her youngest child turned eighteen, a coworker decided that she was done decorating for Christmas. She donated her tree and all the ornaments. Thus, having ornaments in a time capsule for her wouldn’t serve much of a purpose.
Music playlist. Create a playlist of songs that will remind you of the Christmas cheer.
This one is dear to my heart. Each Christmas, my father used to bake “fruit cakes” from scratch for family members. I use the term “fruit cake” loosely because many of them didn’t contain any fruit and the ones that did were nothing like those horrid things sold in the grocery stores. Without getting into an extended explanation, these cakes were a great delight to family members and brought about many laughs (e.g., cake stealing/ cake wars). Each cake was different—the ingredients depended on the receiver. Once he passed away, this tradition ended. The first Christmas without him, I made a few cakes following his top-secret recipe. (One year, he’d suffered a broken leg from a freak accident and couldn’t stand for long periods of time. As a result, he drafted his youngest—me—to help him make the cakes. And that is how the recipe was passed to me.) However, without him, it wasn’t the same, and the cakes didn’t bring about the joy that they once had. Yet, I missed this tradition. Some years later, my daughter who was a Harry Potter fan wanted to have butter beer on Christmas Eve while we snuggled and watched holiday movies. Well… when I tell you I managed to concoct one of the nastiest “potions” ever tasted, it’s not an understatement. I don’t know what went wrong. The next year, I attempted to redeem myself with a different butter beer recipe and managed to somehow render something even fouler. It’s now become a tradition of trying new recipes each year—not just for butter beer but for cookies, candies, punches, and pies. We write them on the front of recipe cards. On the back, we write our opinion and give it a rating. Now, we could easily store these on a computer, but we elect to handwrite them because one day we each will pass away. The ones left behind will have that handwritten memory.
That does it. What did you think? What is your take on the subject? Do you agree or disagree? Did you find this information helpful or informative? Did you learn anything new, or did it change your opinion? Let me know your thoughts in the comment section. Also, let me know if you would like me to cover more of these types of topics or dive deeper into this one. If you like this post, please click the like button and share it. Your feedback allows me to know the content that you want to read. If you’re not following me on the Creole Bayou blog, what are you waiting for? There’s always room at the bayou.
Get ready. It’s almost time to hit the ice again. Future Goals Coming soon.
Future Goals
When a college hockey player needs the help of an attractive older attorney, he gets more than he bargained for when trying to sort out the troubles in his career. Falling in love was never part of either man’s plan, especially as Corrigan’s and Sacha’s lives should never have collided. Now they’re left questioning if they’re standing in the way of the other’s future goals, or if there’s room for redirection.
Missed the first four books in my hockey romance series? No frets.
Out of the Penalty Box (book #1), where it is one minute in the box or a lifetime out, is available at http://amzn.to/2Bhnngw. It also can be ordered on iTunes, Nook, or Kobo. For more links on where to purchase or to read the blurb, please visit http://bit.ly/2i9SqpH.
Would you like a FREE mystery stationary gift? It’s simple. Leave a comment telling me what how you plan to memory keep this holiday season or your favorite holiday memory. It’s that easy. A winner will be selected at random. Contest will remain open until 11/25/22 at 12:00 AM CST.
For more of my stories, shenanigans, giveaways, and more, check out my blog, Creole Bayou, www.genevivechambleeconnect.wordpress.com. New posts are made on Wednesdays, and everything is raw and unscathed. Climb on in a pirogue and join me on the bayou.
Do you feel fabulous? I’m not sure I can, in all honesty, answer, “Yes,” to that question. But man, I’d sure like to! I would love to skate into the holidays like the cat in the picture, or more appropriately like Lizzo coming on stage.
But. I live in the world of day jobs, and night writing, and homecaring, and sleep, and anxiety, and stress, and worry about society in the wake of a major pandemic and upcoming elections (and that’s not to mention the fact that winter is coming on fast and that means darker days and longer nights).
Usually, when I think of the holidays, I think of things like:
Focus on gratitude (inspired by Thanksgiving)
Focus on the people in my life (inspired by the myths of Christmas)
Focus on Samhain and Yule (part of my personal spiritual traditions)
Focus on community (part of Kwanzaa celebrations and learning other cultural traditions)
This year, though, I’m thinking of something different. I want to go into the holidays feeling at peace with myself and my daily round. It’s a tall order, especially in 2022 in the U.S. (and really, anywhere in the world with the geopolitical situation as it is). So I have two tools I’m using:
Flylady
This is not a new tool, but it’s a time-tested and, if you believe it, fun tool for getting on top of the process of homecaring. If you haven’t come across it before, check out the website http://www.flylady.net/. I downloaded the free app (available on Apple and Android devices) and have fallen in love with “shining my sink” (which you can look up on the site).
The reason I’m bringing it up here, though, is that she has a system for a stress-free Christmas — AND you get everything done by December 1st (not Midnight-thirty on December 25th, not that I’m saying I’ve done that ~innocent~). What’s more, you do it by baby steps: fifteen minutes a day, not marathon, monster sessions that leave you grouchy, tired, and burned out.
Pick out your favorites from the past six months or year – or do it from January to now.
Put them together in your favorite photo app for a “highlight reel” of your life over the last six to twelve months.
I did mine in Adobe Bridge, and created a pdf document. You could do it in any photo software, or even find a collage maker online and make a large collage for yourself.
This taught me I have so much for which to be grateful, even over the last few months that have felt so fraught with wildfires, pandemic, job changes, and political upheaval.
What about you, Dear Reader? What are your favorite tools to survive the “Holidaze?”
—
“My own experience has taught me this: if you wait for the perfect moment when all is safe and assured it may never arrive.”
~ Maurice Chevalier
While it’s a little past the actual dates for Wolf Awareness Week, there’s never a bad time to learn about those beautiful creatures! Wolf Awareness Week is held the Third Week of October and while we didn’t plan it, it perfectly coordinated with our release of the TEAM WOLF series set in Elle James’ Brotherhood Protector World.
The graphic I’ve used here is a combination of a number of graphics that I made to use in the Brotherhood Protectors group so that readers could find out more about the wolves that our team was so bent on protecting.
I was so excited to have a series of books set in and around a National Park. I’m a bit of a park person. When my son was young, we did take him to amusement parks and he liked them, but he really came alive when we visited National Parks. Discovering new animals and touring caves, taking long hikes, and getting hands-on with exhibits that the Park Rangers brought out for interactive exhibits.
Those were favorites of mine too. Learning about the flora and fauna of an area is always exciting for me. The natural world has always been an exciting topic for me. I think you’ll see some of that in my book, Guarding Eris. One of the bits of my research into the area of Yellowstone plays a big part in one of the tense moments of the book.
So, I hope you’ll enjoy reading Guarding Eris and the other books in the series!!
I’d love to know… Which National Park is your favorite??
Samhain is just around the corner. This is the day when the veil between our world and that of spirit is the thinnest. The nights are long, and the days are short, giving us plenty of time to ponder if such things are real or imaginary.
Traditionally, Samhain is the celebration of the final harvest. It heralded the beginning of the darker times to come. Bonfires flared to drive back the dark. Turnips were carved and lit with candles to drive away evil spirits. (The Halloween jack-o-lantern has its roots there.) In some cultures, people donned masks in an attempt to appease the gods. (You can easily see where the idea of trick-or-treating came from.)
It is also the Celtic New Year. It’s also known as the Night of the Ancestors, a time to honor those who have passed. It’s a time of fresh starts and new beginnings.
No matter what you believe, you know that on October 31 boys and girls will don costumes, masks and makeup and run door-to-door with the familiar refrain of trick-or-treat. Tons of candy and chips and bars will be distributed, and much fun will be had by young and old alike. The smooth sides of pumpkins will be carved into myriad patterns and flicker with the light of a candle, casting a glow in windows and on doorsteps. Nowadays orange and purple lights may adorn the home, along with life-sized zombies and ghosts and ghouls of every kind. It’s all in fun.
But sometimes you can get a little more than you bargained for. That’s what happens to the characters in my Spells, Secrets, and Seductions series. It all begins with A Touch of Magick. Rhiannon Sparks is a witch, but she’s not a very good one. She has trouble casting the simplest of spells. When her two friends join her one evening for dinner, they decide to cast a spell to bring them a lover. During the spell, Rhiannon bungles the words and ends up asking for a love that is true instead. Who does she meet but sexy deputy Ryland Stone, who doesn’t believe in anything he can’t see or touch. It will either be a disaster, or a match made in heaven. Maybe even both. What it won’t be is dull.
Her friends have man trouble of their own in Dreams of Seduction and Love in Flames. After all, they were part of casting the spell, too.
Whether you believe in magick or not, there is no denying the magic of love, when two people come together for the first time. Powerful stuff. It’s what makes the world go round, what gives us our greatest joys and our most powerful heartbreak. I believe in love and happily ever after or I wouldn’t write romance.
May your Halloween be filled with fun and laughter and maybe even a hint of magick. Happy Halloween! Happy Samhain!
N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, assassins, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.
