Jilted! Elaine Cantrell explains...

Jilted!

Have you ever been jilted? Once upon a time I was, but even though he didn’t mean to do me a favor, he did anyway. If he hadn’t wanted to date that silly little girl… Well, if he hadn’t wanted to date someone else, I never would have met my husband, the love of my life. I always thought that term was probably invented by romance writers who wore rose colored glasses, but I was wrong. I found my soul-mate, and I can truthfully say I love him more today than I did the day we got married.
It’s interesting to see how people cope with being jilted. This picture was taken in China when a jilted bride tried to jump out of a window. Notice that she’s wearing her wedding dress. Lucky for her the guy who caught her had plenty of strength in his arms.

And what about this? The Farmers Almanac tells the story of one jilted woman who invited people to her wedding reception (She couldn’t get her money back.) and asked them to contribute to a couple of charities she had selected.

In my new Christmas short The Table in the Window, my heroine, Marley Matthews, also gets jilted. The skunk called her and asked him to meet her in their favorite restaurant. Here’s what happened...


“Hey, there,” she called, even before she reached the table. “Seeing you makes up for the lousy weather.” She smiled as she took her seat and busied herself with removing her wet coat.

Michael, who wore the wheat‑colored sweater she’d bought him last month, stared out the window as if he saw something far more fascinating than rain and fog. He hadn’t met her eyes once, and he didn’t have the hint of a smile on his face. “Hello, Marley.”

The waiter, a guy whose name tag identified him as Robert, approached to take their order. “What’ll it be?” he asked with a smile. “Hot chocolate? Coffee? Or do you need something stronger to warm you up?”

“Coffee,” Marley answered.

Robert offered them a menu, but Michael waved it away. “I’m not having lunch.”

Marley’s eyebrows shot up. As the waiter left the table, she said, “I thought you wanted to have lunch.”

“No, I said I wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay, talk.” Marley reached for his hand, but he drew it away and put it in his lap.

“Uh…Marley…I have something to tell you.” He cleared his throat, and this time he stared at some point right behind her left shoulder.

Marley’s heart thumped. “What is it, Michael? What’s wrong?” Was he ill? Had he lost his job?

He stared at a burned spot on the rustic table as if it had come to life and tried to bite him. “I…I’ve met someone.”

Marley cocked her head. “Who did you meet?”

He’d pitched his voice so low she had a hard time hearing him. “Her name is Heather.”

Everything clicked. He wouldn’t hold hands with her. He wouldn’t look at her. Cold more intense than that outside settled into her veins and almost took her breath away, but she clung to the hope that she was wrong. “I...I don’t understand.”

His eyes met hers briefly before they slid away. “Yes, you do. I’m sorry, Marley, but I can’t marry you after all.”

Pretty tacky to do it in public, wouldn’t you say?

If you’d like to find out how Marley copes, check back tomorrow.


The Table in the Window is published by Astraea Press, and available at
://www.astraeapress.com/#ecwid:category=1651593&mode=product&product=7885677

Matching Wits with Venus ~ An excerpt from the first chapter

“Matching Wits With Venus”.

Chapter One

In the valley below the thirty foot white block letters that spelled out HOLLYWOOD, between Ripley’s “Believe It or Not” museum and a string of psychic reading rooms, sat a glass-front shop with a rose-colored door. Above the storefront’s small bay window a pink and purple sign proclaimed “Happily Ever After by Amelia”. Inside, Amelia Coillard stretched out her hands to receive a large almond vanilla pie.
"It took me all night to make this,” a tall woman wearing an enormous pear shaped diamond on her left hand said, “But I wanted you to know how grateful I am. Really, Amelia, you’re the best. David and I want to invite you to our wedding. On June twenty-first.”
Amelia bowed slightly and smiled.
“Glad we could help Susanna. Don’t forget to tell your friends about us.”
The woman nodded, then strode past the wrought iron café table where Amelia interviewed clients, out onto the empty sidewalk.
“We’ve got another wedding, “ Amelia called out to her assistant Jennie as she stepped into the back room and placed the pie on a distressed pine sideboard, next to the boxes of chocolates, baskets of figs, bottles of champagne, potpourri sachets and bundles of beeswax candles she’d received from satisfied clients.
“Let me guess,” Jennie replied, rubbing her hands together. “The summer solstice.”
Amelia nodded.
“Flowers in bloom, longer days, baby animals at the zoo. It all means only one thing: June brides. I don’t know how people can be so hopeful.”
“Hmm, well you’d better get ready. Your first client will be in to fill out her patented personality profile in ten minutes. You know, she actually asked me if I’d mail her the profile and let her fill it out at home! As if we’d release your proprietary secrets!”
"I don’t know what I’d do without you to look after me,” Amelia chuckled.
She reached inside the little cupboard in the corner and withdrew the fitted white croceted sweater she’d gotten two years ago at the Rose Bowl Flea Market. The seller had told her the cardigan had been part of the trousseau of one of the old stars who’d lived up in the Hollywood Hills. Amelia wasn’t sure she believed the woman’s story, but the sweater’s delicate pattern reminded her of wedding lace, so she wore it every time she met with a client. And, though she never told Jennie, Amelia was convinced that the sweater from another woman’s trousseau was as close as she’d ever come to clothing herself in bridal wear.
While Amelia was pulling the sweater over her black mini-dress and adjusting her wavy auburn hair over its pearl trimmed collar she saw a photo smiling out at her from the back of the cupboard. Inside the silver frame stood an extremely thin young man, his eyes protruding below penciled on eyebrows, a blue bandana wrapped around his head. As Amelia reached out to caress the photo she heard someone rapping on the back window.
“Justin,”She called out to the young man in the red and black leather jacket, torn jeans and scruffy tennis shoes.
Justin’s long hair needed a trim and he could use a shave, as well as a bottle of sunblock. Like many of the others who bedded down on the streets around Hollywood and Vine, his face was testimony to the hard realities of living rough under the merciless California sun.
“I’ve got something for you,” she said as she opened the door.
Amelia scooped up a napkin, fork and bottle of water from the table that held her teakettle. She handed them to Justin, along with a plate bearing half of the almond vanilla pie.
“Thanks Amelia.”
“Have a good day.”
Amelia watched as Justin disappeared into the alley. She gazed up into the hills in the distance, at the faded ocher stucco mansion that stood atop the highest point. Long verandas seemed to wrap around the house, though it was impossible to know for certain if they ran across the back of the home, since the far side of the walled property was not accessible by road or foot. It sat atop a fault line; no one dared venture onto the rocky terrain for fear of disrupting the crusty earth beneath the bougainvillea bushes.
“Lia! Lia!” Jennie called out from the front room.
When she got no response, Jennie headed to the back room. She threw her shoulders back and sighed as she watched Amelia, hunched forward, her eyebrows creased.
“Don’t,” Jennie said softly as she sidled up next to Amelia.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t go down that path, Lia. It’s not going to take you anywhere you want to be.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Come on, let it go.”
Amelia sighed.
“Do you have any idea how many cakes, cookies, tarts, baskets and bouquets I left on those stone steps? Do you know, I used to cimb up to that gate every year on Christmas Eve and what should’ve been my parents’ anniversary and leave her these hand-written letters I’d actually sealed with a kiss. I taped those little Hershey’s candies to the envelope when I was little and then, in high school, I slathered red lipstick on my lips and ran my mouth across the back of the envelope. I can’t believe I was so stupid!”
“We all do dumb things.”
“Yeah but come on! Believing in the existence of an ancient Roman goddess AND that she lived right in my own neighborhood? Talk about desperate.”
Jennie laughed.
“It does sound absurd when you put it that way. Plus everybody knows that house has been abandoned for decades. Why they don’t add it to the Haunted Hollywood tour is beyond me.”
Amelia nodded. As she took a final look at the mansion she thought she saw a flash of light shoot out from its left flank.

***
Inside the ocher palazzo Venus flicked her cream colored scarf over her slender shoulders as she peered through the ultra-powerful telescope she had trained on “Happily Ever After by Amelia”.
“You have to do something about that woman or before you know it they’ll be tearing down all those statues of me and calling HER the goddess of love.”
Venus turned away from the window and looked at her son. Cupid was sitting on the edge of a pink silk sofa, a thick clutch of papers between his muscular hands.
"If you’d just take a look at these spreadsheets, I think you’ll see I’ve discovered a way to streamline everything. I’ll be able to shoot twice the arrows in half the time if I don’t have to keep backtracking. All you have to do is make your matches in a more geo-centric manner.”
Venus held up her manicured hand.
“When I want your advice I’ll ask for it.”
“Mother, please. I’ve given a lot of though as to how we can modernize, maybe even….”
“Modernize?”
Venus stared at her son, who was looking back at her with eyes the color of Lake Cuomo. He opened his mouth again, and she saw the slight chip on his front tooth. It was the only flaw on his perfectly proportioned face.
“I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense. Where are your arrows?”
Cupid shook his head in disgust. No doubt it would take another hundred years before his mother even admitted that there was a need to change the way they did business. He tapped his foot impatiently against the floor, whose wooden planks had been imported from Italy, and wondered whether his mother would ever see him as more than her arrow boy.
“Cupid! Where’s your quiver?”
Cupid pointed at the monogrammed leather case lying against the wall, beneath the portrait of Venus that Remus had commissioned after she’d matched up the first inhabitants of Rome. Light glistened off the tips of the golden arrows poking out of the top of the quiver.
“Now listen to me. I want you to shoot this Amelia with the most powerful arrow you’ve got.”
“Mother, I’ve got a better idea.”
Cupid began to leaf through the stack of papers.
“I said, shoot her! Do you hear me?”

You can find Therese here:
http://www.theresegilardi.com/index.html
http://theresegilardi.wordpress.com/
Matching Wits with Venus is available here:
http://astraeapress.com
http://amazon.com
http://barnesandnoble.com
http://allromancebooks.com
http://omnilit.com
http://efictionbookstore.com

Thank you, Therese, for joining us every day this week, it's been a pleasure having you here.

La La Land ~ what is it?

La La Land

The Oxford English Dictionary recently defined “La La Land” as: “n. can refer either to Los Angeles (in which case its etymology is influenced by the common initials for that city), or to a state of being out of touch with reality—and sometimes to both simultaneously ».

In light of the fact that « Matching Wits With Venus », my paranormal romance about a Hollywood matchmaker and the Roman god Cupid takes place in La La Land (and I must admit, I call the hills above the city home), I have decided to offer up an Angeleno play list and menu that will surely put you in the mood for love L.A. style.

So pull out the record player/fire up the i-tunes/grab the boom box and let’s go.

Nothing captures the sense that anything – even the presence of a Roman god and his family living in the Hollywood Hills – is possible in the City of Angels like Randy Newman’s « I Love L.A. ». If you don’t already know this anthem, I’m sure a quick listen will have you longing to ride around with the top down and the car windows open no matter where you live.

When you’re ready to groove some more, you can count on the L.A. radio. No So Cal (Southern California) station is without a copy of a Beach Boys tune. Any Beach Boys tune will do, although of course the anthem « Wish They All Could Be California Girls » pretty much sums it all up. And let’s not forget California native Katy Perry’s « California Girls » for a fresh take on life on the left coast. And of course anything by the Red Hot Chili Peppers will carry you straight to La La Land. Finally, since you’re getting in the mood to visit the Los Angeles of Cupid and Amelia in « Matching Wits With Venus », you need to listen to « Vivaldi’s Four Seasons ». Although Cupid never shares this fact with Amelia, he was the inspiration for the spring movement.

Now that you’ve got your play list going it’s time to dine So Cal style (best on a beach, terrace or balconey, but in front of the fire will do as well as virtually all residents of La La Land love to start up their gas fireplaces when the temperatures are cold enough to require a light sweater). What’s on the menu ? Everything! As one of the most diverse places on the planet, Los Angeles is home to every kind of cuisine. Even haggis. However, if you want to dine like Cupid and Angeleno Amelia, then go for a burrito, hand-made guacomole and chips, tostada, taco, or perhaps some soup at a noodle bar in Little Tokyo ….

The possibilities are endless because, as the Oxford English Dictionary rightly points out, La La Land is as much a state of mind as it is a specific location. So if you believe that magic isn’t just reserved for the movies, then come on. It’s time for a visit to La La Land.

http://astraeapress.com

http://amazon.com

http://barnesandnoble.com

http://allromancebooks.com

http://omnilit.com

http://efictionbookstore.com

Tomorrow you can read part of Chapter one of

Matching Wits with Venus



You are what you Read,

You Are What You Read

As a reader, I love to know what draws fellow word lovers to their favorite works. The following are some of the writers whose words have brought me laughter, tears and more insight than I could have imagined.

April is National Poetry Month in the U.S. As a poet who lives in the hills above Los Angeles, I feel it’s my duty to pay homage to Charles Bukowski. Los Angeles poet and cultural commentator, Bukowski will leave you crying at the beauty he finds in the ugliness of life. This is not conventional poetry by any stretch of the imagination. “What Matters Most is How Well You Walk through The Fire” is a raw slice of humanity that will haunt you long after you read Bukowski’s final words.

Like Bukowski, Marian Keyes doesn’t shy away from the crazy quilt that is human experience. Marian’s breezy confessions in “Under the Duvet” and “Further Under the Duvet” will leave you feeling like you’ve just shared a few secrets with your best friend. And her novels are a sublime mix of humor and despair. Marian’s work always makes me feel better about both my self and my life.

But of course we all know there are times you just want to be entertained, to enjoy the bookish equivalent of SUDOKU. When that urge arises, I turn to the queen of crime: Agatha Christie. Even though I’ve read virtually all of Dame Christie’s works, own the DVDs of the stories that have made it to the screen, and saw “The Mousetrap” on the London stage, I never tire of the Belgian with the egg-shaped head, the spinster surrounded by murder and mayhem, and those pesky newlyweds, Tommy and Tuppence.
:-) I saw the mousrtrap in London, too.

As a writer, though, there is one man whose work remains unparalleled for his brutal honesty. That man is Pulitzer Prize winner Frank McCourt. Although “Angela’s Ashes” is his strongest work, I still enjoy dipping into ‘Tis. After all, not many people are brave enough to come clean about the dirt they dish in their own lives.

Why are you drawn to your favorite writers?

is available at...
http://astraeapress.com
http://amazon.com
http://barnesandnoble.com
http://allromancebooks.com
http://omnilit.com
http://efictionbookstore.com





 
 
 

 

Tomorrow Therese talks about La La Land

Elaine Cantrell talks about dreams today

The first thing I’d like to do is thank Sherry for letting me come to her blog. It’s always a pleasure to meet new people.
Let’s talk about dreams, the dreams people have for their lives. Suppose you were a young woman born to a dirt poor family with an alcoholic father and an overworked mother. Suppose the whole town talked about your family and judged you by what all of your relatives did. What do you think such a young woman would dream of? I think it would be difficult to even imagine a better life for yourself. After all, the town considers your entire family trash, and you’ve grown up hearing it so often you might think it’s true.

But suppose you were so beautiful that every man who met you wanted you. Does that give you an advantage? Maybe. But it might also be a disadvantage because some men probably have anything but marriage in mind for you.


Elizabeth Lane is such a woman. The town calls her trash, but Elizabeth has something besides her good looks to fall back on. She has talent and determination, and she has a mother who believes in her. After the death of Elizabeth’s father, she and her mother move to Hollywood to give her her chance.


Is she successful? You betcha. Elizabeth has that hard to describe ‘it’ that makes her a superstar. And she catches the attention of Richard Lovinggood, son of California senator Henry Lovinggood. Senator Lovinggood has big plans for Richard. He’s grooming his son to be the president of The United States, and Elizabeth won’t advance his career. With one well-timed visit to Elizabeth, he breaks them up.


Fast forward ten years to a chance meeting on a California beach. Richard and Elizabeth get a second chance, and this time Elizabeth isn’t willing to let him go. I hope you enjoy the following excerpt from Return Engagement. You can watch a video preview of the book at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4nSYYbAZZWY

If you’re interested in learning more about me and my writing you can check out
my website http://www.elainecantrell.com/ and
my blog http://www.elainepcantrell.blogspot.com/


I’m also on Facebook and would love to be friends. http://www.facebook.com/elainepcantrell 

You can read the first chapter of Return Engagement at http://www.whiskeycreekpress.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=819&zenid=da39611ee4c60ba80d9754963ad30f92 

I don’t mean to brag, okay, maybe I do, but Return Engagement is number 5 on the publisher’s top ten list. Romantic Times liked it too. They gave it 4 ½ stars, and in part they said, ‘This touching story is beautifully written and explores the emotions involved when two people who love each other are influenced by outside forces and their own doubts. Each character is fully developed and the plot is filled with interesting twists.’

In this excerpt, Richard and Elizabeth are on their way back to their cars after spending the evening together at the beach.


She didn’t come from money the way Richard did. Mentally, she pictured the small, two bedroom home where she had grown up. The house had originally been white, but they hadn’t painted it even once during the nineteen years Elizabeth had lived there. By the time she and her mother came to Hollywood, most of the peeling paint had finally flaked off, leaving the weathered, gray boards exposed to the elements.
The inside matched the exterior: old, faded, and dirty looking no matter how much she and her mother tried to clean it. It had mice too. They never had any food to waste, so they constantly fought the little pests. She vividly remembered the day she found a mouse in the sack of dried beans her mother planned to cook for dinner. Sadly, her mother had thrown the bag away. For the next two nights they’d had nothing but sliced loaf bread smeared with margarine for dinner. Of course, she had truly felt grateful for the bread, but it hadn’t filled her up. The corners of her mouth turned down. To this day mice revolted her.
She stumbled in the dark and tripped over a chunk of driftwood. When Richard reached out to steady her, the moon glinted on the face of his watch. It looked, and undoubtedly was, expensive; it looked like the kind of watch she had seen on the arm of Brandon Whitaker, her first high school crush.
Brandon’s family had more money than anyone in Fairfield. He looked fabulous, dressed divinely, and drove a wonderful little blue sports car. They had algebra together in Mrs. Wheeler’s fourth period class. In the spring of her sophomore year he had invited her to go to the prom with him.
Thrilled, she had gone to the Goodwill store and found a prom dress. Her mother could ill afford to spend twenty five dollars on an outfit Elizabeth could only wear once, but she worked an extra day at her second job to raise the money.
As it turned out, she never wore that dress. Brandon’s father found out he had asked her to the prom and refused to allow it. Brandon had taken Sherry Fisher to the dance instead, and Elizabeth had sold her dress to her cousin Jennifer who wore it to a policeman’s ball. Tears of anger even now threatened to fall.
Yes, I’ve had to be careful. I never want to go back to that horrible, little house. I have a great life, thank you very much, so why have I let Richard turn my world upside down? Alex never affects me this way. He comes from a nice middle class family. When we spend time together I never lose every bit of common sense I possess. Alex makes me feel safe and comfortable, but Richard doesn’t. He makes me feel unsettled and out of sync. She sighed. I can’t decide if I like the difference or not. I care for Alex on many different levels, but Richard…
Thankfully, Richard didn’t want to talk. Right now she needed to think.

I won’t tell you what she needs to think about, but it’s big. Real big. And it will throw her world into chaos.

Sherry, thanks again for letting me come.
It's been a pleasure to have you here today, Elaine.  I thoroughly enjoyed this book and would highly recomend it.

Heartsight ~ Blurb & Excerpt plus more

Author bio:
Kay Springsteen grew up in Michigan but transplanted to the south about 10 years ago and now resides in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia with her five small dogs. Two of her four children live nearby, a married son who has a daughter of his own, and one of her twins. The other twin lives just outside of USMC Camp Lejeune in North Carolina. Her oldest daughter still resides in Michigan. When she's not writing, she is transcribing and editing medical reports. Besides being an avid reader, hobbies include photography, gardening, hiking and camping, and of course spending time with her terrific G-baby. She is a firm believer in happily ever after endings and believes there is one out there for everyone; it just may not be exactly what you expect or think you want.
*****************

Blurb:

Heartsight by Kay Springsteen

On a secluded beach in North Carolina, three lonely people find hope in each other.
Trish Evers is an artist and single mother, who has inherited her grandmother's Bed and Breakfast in a North Carolina coastal town. Though she must sell the house, she decides to bring her daughter to the beach for one last summer vacation in her childhood town.
Bella is a six-year-old girl who has Down syndrome. Rejected by her father, Trish, is the only parent she's ever known. Bella likes to explore the beach and has a tendency to wander off. One day, Bella goes exploring on her own, and Trish finds her in the company of an intriguing stranger.
Dan Conway is a U.S. Marine, who had been born into a family of Marines. Now blind as a result of combat injuries and unable to "suit up," he feels he no longer has a purpose in life. He's come home to the beach, where he spends his days in solitude. Dan must learn to believe in himself and to love life again, which he begins to do through his interactions with Bella and Trish. When a hurricane strikes, and Bella wanders off again, her only hope for rescue is Dan.
Working within the confines of his blindness, he must overcome his fear of failure and recall his training in order to search for the little girl and bring her to safety.
*****************

Excerpt (Dan):
Using the sound of the surf and the sun's warmth for orientation, Dan sat on a large rock facing east and enjoyed the sunrise. The kiss of waves on sandy shoreline became louder, more insistent, as the gentle predawn breeze turned into an early morning wind. The air around him warmed rapidly, and the beach life started to awaken as well.
The cries of gulls in the distance held an eerie, human-like quality, which could as easily have been the delighted squeals of children playing or the terror-filled shrieks of children dying.
Dan breathed slowly in then out, and re-oriented himself to his surroundings. The sand beneath his feet was the foot-sucking grain-like consistency found on the beach, not the diamond-hard dust he'd grown used to in the desert. The air surrounding him was humid, not arid.
Beach grasses whispered, stroked by the onshore ocean breeze. Nearby, scuttling ghost crabs bulldozed the sand, each tumbling grain sounding like a rockslide to Dan's sensitive ears. The air smelled a bit of midsummer rain, hinting of possible relief from the early summer swelter by mid-afternoon.
His hand rested on the old guitar, unmoving, the instrument silent, as he considered a future in the dark. He had few options and limited time to make a decision that would affect the rest of his life. Did he try to maintain a semblance of the life he'd once planned for himself? Or leave all that and carve a new niche elsewhere?
Who was he kidding? No one wanted a wounded warrior, let alone one who could no longer see.
He caressed the low E string with his thumb, frowning at the dull, not-quite-in-tune sound. Automatically, he adjusted the string until he was pleased with the pitch, repeating the process for the rest of the strings.
Leaning over her, Dan hugged the guitar to him in the manner a man should embrace such a lady. She'd been his best friend since he was a kid, had never failed to bring him comfort and healing through the secret language they shared.
Dan played a few soft chords, walking his fingers up and down the fretboard, not playing anything specific, the tones coming more easily than he'd expected them to. He stopped to adjust the G string, then played a few more chords, falling into a slow rhythm, one good for thinking.
Without conscious thought, he inserted a simple, impromptu melody, making love to his lady in earnest now, expressing the deepest, most vulnerable aspects of himself through the movements of his fingers. The lonely sound drifted across the beach to join the cries of the gulls, as he laid bare the layers of pain for the audience of his solitude.
As he lost himself in the haunting music, Dan felt the first stirring of a curious sense of freedom. Recent memories were pushed to the rear in lieu of less troublesome ones from his boyhood, when scuttling crabs had held him enthralled, and thoughts of where driftwood came from had fascinated him. The music swelled under his hands as he revisited that time of innocence.
At his feet, Jack stirred and whined. Dan stopped playing, abruptly pulled back into the present. Barely a second later, he heard something shuffling through the beach grass behind him and the scents of caramel and cotton candy wafted into his awareness.
His private beach had been discovered.
The air next to him stirred softly as whoever it was took a seat on his rock. Dan was about to ask if the intruder had noticed the private property sign at the entrance to the beach, when sticky fingers were thrust against his palm. Startled by the sudden invasive touch, Dan nonetheless instinctively closed his fingers about the delicate hand that had placed itself into his.
"Well, hello." Dan listened for the sound of someone else approaching but heard nothing. "Is your mom or dad around?"
The only answer he received was a tiny contented sigh. He could feel the rhythmic movement of the child's feet swinging over the edge of the rock on which they sat.
*****************
Available at astraeapress
****************

Purchases made through the Astraea Press website between March 1 and June 1 will generate a $2 donation to the USO for the Wounded Warrior Program.

For more information, please read on:-

A Place In the World
Have you ever felt out of place? Most people have at one time or another. An awkward social situation, a feeling of just not belonging. Can you imagine feeling that way about your entire life? What if everything you ever worked for was suddenly ripped away? What if the pages of your life were no longer already written but were suddenly blank and you had no idea how to fill them?
My hero in Heartsight was born into a family of Marines. His entire life was geared toward serving in the USMC. But a tragic incident in Afghanistan robs him of his sight. Not so much call for a wounded warrior, let alone one who can no longer see. This story is 100% fiction, but, like most stories, it imitates real life. War injuries happen.
I can think of no more painful outcome to serving in the military than for those who were wounded to be forgotten, to feel that because they may be missing limbs, or not have the ability to walk, or see, or carry out business in the way of non-injured people, they have no productive place in the world. All persons have value and worth, something to contribute to the world. Sometimes it just takes a little push to find our purpose.
If you’re a veteran or you know a vet who needs a hand, please reach out. The help is there. If you can offer a hand, please show our vets that you care.
http://www.bnwest.woundedwarriorregiment.org/ 
http://www.militaryonesource.com/MOS/MarineCorps.aspx?MRole=Family&Branch=MarineCorps&Component=Active 
http://www.uso.org/ 
We are still working out the details, but a portion of Heartsight sales through the Astraea Press website, from March 1 to June 1, 2011 will be donated to the USO.

To find out more details you can find me at:-
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Kay-Springsteen-Author-of-Romance/143469035711422
Blog: http://kayspringsteen.wordpress.com/

Thanks Kay, for joining us here for the last few days, Kay.  best wishes with your debut novel and your new venture.

Meet Kay's heroine today.

Today I am talking with my heroine, Trish Evers:

Kay - Thank you for agreeing to talk with me today, Trish, I'd like to start with the question;what do you consider your greatest achievement?
Trish smiles warmly - Ongoing, raising my daughter

Kay - What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Trish - Spending time with my daughter and new neighbor and no worries intruding.

Kay - What is your current state of mind?
A frown replaces Trish's smile - A little overwhelmed and sad at closing up Gran's house. Intrigued by my new neighbor.

Kay - What is your favorite occupation?
Trish - Painting but also teaching art.

Kay - What is your most treasured possession? 
Trish with tears in her eyes- Gran's house that I have to sell.

Kay - What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Trish smiles at her daughter and looks over at Dan - Bella. But my neighbor is looking pretty good.

Kay - What is your favorite journey?
Trish - The journey of learning I'm taking with Bella.

Kay - What is your most marked characteristic?
Trish heaves a heavy sigh. - My "maternal" bustline , slightly rounded stomach – these are the things my ex never let me forget about.

Kay - When and where were you the happiest?
Trish - The day right before Bella was born when I didn’t know the baby would have life-threatening health problems.

Ka y- What is it that you most dislike?
Trish - People who pretend they care but don't really.

Kay - What is your greatest fear?
Trish - Losing Bella, letting her down, not protecting her.

Kay - What is your greatest extravagance?
Trish grins - Art supplies. Oh, and also bath beads and scented candles.

Kay - Which living person do you most despise?
Trish shrugs - I don't hate anyone but am hurt and angry and a little intimidated by my ex-husband. I don't like "looks" of sympathy from strangers.

Kay - What is your greatest regret?
Trish shakes her head - That I didn’t try harder in my marriage, that I didn’t try to convince ex-husband to stay for Bella.

Kay - Which talent would you most like to have?
Trish - The one I have, painting watercolors that other people like enough to buy.

Kay - Where would you like to live?
Trish sighs wistfully - I wish I could stay in the beach house.

Kay - What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Trish - Feeling any kind of self-pity.

Kay - What is the quality you most like in a man?
Trish smiles at Dan - Compassion.

Kay - What is the quality you most like in a woman?
Trish - Integrity.

Kay - What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Trish - Sometimes I take on too much and get burned out.

Kay - What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Trish - Being phony.

Kay - What do you most value in your friends?
Trish - Loyalty.

Kay - Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
Trish replies without hesitation - Laura Ingalls Wilder

Kay - Whose are your heroes in real life?
Trish thought for a moment before responding - All the U.S. First Ladies.

Kay - Which living person do you most admire?
Trish - Never thought of it.

Kay - What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Trish - Sympathy; it's often false.

Kay - On what occasions do you lie?
Trish shakes her head - I don't. No matter how tempting, because I don't like being lied to.

Kay - Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
Tirsh chuckles and smiles at Bella - Let mommy help.

Kay - If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
Trish - Being afraid all the time.

Kay - What are your favorite names?
Trish - I named my daughter Isabella because I liked the meaning, "devoted to God."

Kay - How would you like to die?
Trish - Old age, and at peace knowing Bella will be okay without me.

Kay - If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
Trish tilts her head and thinks - A kitten

Kay - What is your motto?
Trish - "It won’t seem so bad tomorrow."

Sherry - Kay, thank you for sharing your interviews with your hero and heroine.  It seems they are both very strong characters who have definate opinions.  I bet the sparks flew when they came together :-)

Heartsight is available at Astraea Press website

* * * *

If you want to know more about Kay Springteen's characters and to read the blurb and excerpt of her debut novel, please come back tomorrow.

You will also discover where and how Kay is spending some of the income from Heartsight.

Today Kay interviews her hero

Kay explains 'This questionnaire was invented by the noted French author Marcel Proust'

Interview with hero, Dan Conway: 

Kay - What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Dan Smiles - Making Captain with USMC

Kay - What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Dan - To be worth something, able to contribute in a positive way.

Kay - What is your current state of mind?
Dan frowns thoughtfully, rubs jaw - Confused, unsettled, lonely, contemplative, frustrated.

Kay - What is your favorite occupation?
Dan leans forward a bit - I've been a Marine my whole adult life.

What is your most treasured possession?
He sighs and gives it some thought. Grandfather's dog-tags, mother's box of recipes.

Kay - What or who is the greatest love of your life?

 Dan - It was being a marine. shrugs - Currently . . . my dog and being alone.

Kay - What is your favorite journey?
Dan - Was always a tossup between leaving for deployment and coming home, with all the missions in between.

Kay - What is your most marked characteristic?
Dan sighs and takes a moment to consider - Afraid it's blindness, so do anything not to be noticed.


Kay -When and where were you the happiest? 
Dan - As a marine.

Kay - What is it that you most dislike?
Dan - That slightly helpless feeling when I can't do something sighted people take for granted—that I always used to take for granted. Like see a sunrise or seeing someone you love in the distance. He offers a sad smile.

Kay - What is your greatest fear?
Dan shrugs - That I will never be worth anything/make a contribution again.

Kay - What is your greatest extravagance?
Dan - Computer equipment for things like reading mail, going on internet.

Kay - Which living person do you most despise?
Dan - It's not worth despising others. Takes too much energy and clouds your judgment.

Kay - What is your greatest regret?
Dan turned a fierce glane in my direction - That I couldn't save the little boy who had the bomb strapped to him.

Kay - Which talent would you most like to have?
Dan - Don't know.

Kay - Where would you like to live?
Dan - If I have to put down roots, I like my beach house.

Kay - What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Dan shifted in his seat - Failing someone...failing to help them when they are in trouble, being helpless when they need you.

Kay - What is the quality you most like in a man?
Dan - Honesty.

Kay - What is the quality you most like in a woman?
Dan - Honesty and understanding/empathy.

Kay - What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Dan - Moodiness but can't seem to change it. 

Kay - What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Dan - Pity toward me.

Kay - What do you most value in your friends?
Dan - Unconditional friendship

Kay - Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
Dan leans back in his chair and crosses his legs - Captain America, other superheroes. Especially like superheroes who have no superpowers.

Kay - Whose are your heroes in real life?
Dan sits taller, straighter - U.S. Marines

Kay - Which living person do you most admire?
Dan - Marine commandant General James T. Conway

Kay - What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Dan - Bravery, especially in context of just performing my job, or being brave because I handle being blind so well—I mean, do I have a choice? How does that make me brave?

Kay - On what occasions do you lie?
Dan - In order to protect someone else or keep them calm (as in telling the little boy with the bomb "it's going to be okay.")

Kay - Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
Dan chuckles - Probably "okay."

Kay - If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
Dan - I wouldn’t brood as much.

Kay - How would you like to die?
Dan gives my questions some thought before replying - Assuming it's not from old age after a productive life, then let my death have meaning.

Kay - If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
Dan - Pit bull

Kay - What is your motto?
Dan, without hesitation and a grin - Semper fi

You've met Kay's hero. Come back tomorrow and meet her heroine.

Heartsight is available at the Astraea Press website

To read the blurb and excerpt come back on Tuesday 22nd

and learn more.
Don't forget to come back for Kay's interview with her heroine tomorrow.

An excerpt from The Texan's Irish Bride

This evening (Texas time), I’ll donate a free PDF download

to someone who comments here on Sherry’s blog Saturday through today, Tuesday, and tells me they’ve gone to my blog http://carolineclemmons.blogspot.com to sign up for my Mostly Monthly Newsletter.

The Texan’s Irish Bride ~ An Excerpt

Her rose scent filled him, and he thought he would never tire of it. She fumbled with his shirt buttons then pushed it from his shoulders.
“Yours is a very broad chest.”
Her fingers skimmed across him, and his need for her magnified. When she traced the whorls of his nipple, he thought his knees might give way. He stilled her hand.
“There’s something I want from you, have wanted since we met.”
Fear sprang into her widened emerald eyes and she paled. Dang, he cursed himself for frightening her and her for not trusting him.
Her voice trembled. “Wh—What would you be asking?”
“Dance for me.” He knew it sounded crazy, but he’d imagined this for days.
She looked askance. “Here? But ‘tis your bedroom, and not a note ‘o music playing.”
“Our bedroom, and you can sing or hear the music in your head to keep time.”
“But—”
“Please? Not for coins or where others can see, but only for me.”
A slow smile spread across her face, and she cocked her head to one side. “Aye, I see now. If ‘tis for your pleasure, then ‘twill be mine.”
After she took off her shoes and stockings, she spun away. But not in the regimented dance he’d seen when other women accompanied her. This time she took the red scarf from her waist and used it as an instrument meant to entice a man.
Her man.
Him.
She twirled as if to a measured rhythm only she heard. Her green skirt and white petticoats billowed out to reveal long, perfect legs. Legs he wanted around him. She slid the scarf in imitation of a caress along her slender arms. Then she moved the red silk along her body.
Dang, he was hot as a gunslinger’s pistol and just as hard. His manhood strained against his britches until he thought he’d pop through the fabric. He loosened the buttons and stepped from his clothes, never taking his gaze from her. Reaching behind him, he turned back the bedding and sat on the sheet.
Before his heat warmed the cool fabric, she pulled him to the middle of the room and circled around him. He pivoted, naked as a newborn, and watched her every move. Dipping, fluttering, and arching her lithe frame, she lured him with each sinuous flow of her body.
Flush with the throbbing pulsating through him, he pictured himself plunging into her again and again as she wound around him. Her erotic gyrations set his already heated blood at a boil, but he stood mesmerized by her and the dance.
Her flaming hair streamed around her in a fiery cloud. She looped the scarf over his head, and the red silk left a tingling trail across his shoulders and down his right arm. Then she threaded it around her own shoulders and sawed it while she shrugged first one shoulder up and then the other one. Fabric of her blouse pulled taut against her full breasts and pushed the peaked nipples into view.
Dang, he couldn’t take much more of this, or he’d explode like fireworks on the Fourth of July. On and on she whirled and kicked, first coming near to brush against him, then moving back with a captivating smile. Teasing him with the piece of silk as she pulled it across his body, she seared him with her touch and made him part of her beguiling ritual.
When he could stand it no longer, he said, “Come here, let’s dance together in bed.” To his ears, his voice rasped hoarse with the need that burned inside him.
She approached slowly, seductively, with fluid grace. As she moved, she drew off her remaining clothes. Twining the scarf around his wrists, she pulled his arms high until she slid under them, imprisoning him and herself in their circle.
“Now we are truly bound together,” she said, her voice breathy from her exotic dance.
“Am I your prisoner, then?” he asked, amused at her tempting play even as her touch fueled his need.
“Yes, and I am yours.” She met his gaze, but her jewel eyes held uncertainty. “Did I please you then, or was I too forward with meself?”
“You are beautiful and graceful, and your dance was even more special than I’d hoped.”
She breathed a big sigh. “Then you approve and will be taking me to bed now?”
“I suppose I must do as you say, since I’m your prisoner.” He nibbled at her neck, and she released the scarf binding him. The silk fell from his skin as her arms slid around his shoulders.
Their lips met, and he delved his tongue to sample her nectar. She responded with fervor. He rejoiced that if he must be tied to this woman, at least she shared his apparently boundless passion. He pulled her with him across the bed, then scooted her until she lay cushioned in the center of the thick mattress.
“Finally, I can see and taste all of you.”
“I’m hoping ‘tis all right for us to act so heathen.”
He lay propped on an elbow beside her, content for a moment to look his fill of her. “It isn’t heathen for a husband and wife to enjoy one another. Doesn’t it feel right?”
In the golden lamplight, her skin gleamed like ivory.
“Aye, it feels more than right. It’s as if being with you is where I was meant to be.”
He smoothed her auburn hair across the pillow. It looked even more glorious there than he had dreamed. Desire darkened her emerald eyes, and the pink of exertion tinged her cheeks.
“No woman will ever be more beautiful than you are right now.”
“If you think that, then we’re well matched, for never lived a more handsome man than you are.”
He took her graceful hand in his and brought it to his lips. After he pressed a kiss to her palm, he suckled each fingertip.
She pulled away and put her hands under her. “You’ll be driving me mad with wanting. Hurry.”
He smiled down at her and shook his head. “Nope. I’ve thought about this night since we wed. Reckon we might not get much sleep, for I intend to take my time.”
“But ‘tis torture waiting.” She reached for his manhood.
He twisted away. “Let me give you something to think about, then.” Starting with her beautiful eyes, he rained kisses on her face, her neck, and her shoulders. He cradled one of her ample breasts while his mouth suckled the other.
She moaned and clutched him to her.
In spite of his throbbing need, he restrained his own urgency and slowly trailed kisses down her ribs, her stomach, to her mound of curls. He slid a finger inside her moist heat.
“Now, Dallas, now. I can’t wait another second.”
Desire won, and he stretched himself over her. “Nor can I,” he said and slid into her. “Let’s begin our own dance.

Look out for the lucky winner

This evening (Texas time), I’ll donate a free PDF download
to someone who comments here on Sherry’s blog Saturday through today, Tuesday and tells me they’ve gone to my blog http://carolineclemmons.blogspot.com to sign up for my Mostly Monthly Newsletter.

The buy link for THE TEXAN’S IRISH BRIDE is www.thewildrosepress.com/caroline-clemmons-m-638.html in print and e-download, and it’s also available at Amazon and other online stores.
My website is www.carolineclemmons.com

My Website: www.carolineclemmons.com
My Blog: http://carolineclemmons.blogspot.com
My email: caroline@carolineclemmons.com










Thanks very much, Sherry, for having me as your guest. It's been a pleasure, Caroline.

Caroline Interviews Dallas

Hello, I’m Caroline Clemmons and I write historical, contemporary, and paranormal romance. Thank you for stopping by Sherry’s blog. Today, I want to interview the hero of my current release. Yes, I know he’s a fictional character—to you. To me, he’s real because he lived in my head, nagging at me until I wrote his story. Please welcome the hero of THE TEXAN’S IRISH BRIDE, Dallas McClintock. Dallas, come in and have a seat while we talk. 

Dallas: (He tips his western hat, removes it, and sits across from me.) Ma’am. Thanks for inviting me here today. 

Caroline: Thanks for coming, Dallas. Tells us about your childhood, Dallas. 
Dallas: I was born in Georgia right here in the U.S.of A. That’s where my mother’s people lived, you see. They had escaped the removals by hiding in the forest.

Caroline: I had relatives in Georgia. Would I know any of your mother’s family?
Dallas shrugs: My mother’s family were Eastern Cherokee. Robbers wounded my dad—his name was Houston McClintock—and left him for dead. My mother’s family found him and nursed him until he recovered. By then, Ma and Pa had fallen in love. 

Caroline: How romantic. Do they still live in Georgia?
Dallas looks down, shakes his head: No, ma’am. They were killed when I was twelve. Grandpa feared the killers would find me and kill me too. That’s when my grandfather brought me to Texas for my Uncle Austin and Aunt Kathryn to raise. 

Caroline: I’m sorry if I stirred up painful memories. Tell us about your life in Texas.
Dallas: It was different, but fine. Uncle Austin and Aunt Kathryn treated me like their own son, and their boys Josh and Daniel treated me like a brother. To the townspeople, though, I was just a sorry halfbreed, so mostly I hung around the ranch. Then, saving up what Uncle Austin paid me for helping on his ranch, I was able to buy my own place. I was all set raising the finest horses in the state. That is, until I heard a woman’s screams and came upon those two no accounts misusing Cenora. Naturally, I rushed to help her.

Caroline: How commendable, Dallas. I believe that brings us up to the beginning of THE TEXAN’S IRISH BRIDE. Thanks for coming today. I hope readers will want to read the rest of your and Cenora’s story. 
Dallas: Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be getting back to the ranch now.  

If you want to be entered into the drawing to receive a free PDF download of THE TEXAN’S IRISH BRIDE, please leave a comment including your email address and mention that you’ve subscribed to my newsletter using the form on the sidebar at http://carolineclemmons.blogspot.com. Each issue contains a free short story, recipe, news, and miscellaneous stuff I think is interesting.

Thanks for reading today, and I’ll see you tomorrow.

Duty Calls

Duty Calls

released on February 11th

by Black Opal Books

Blurb:- She’d saved his life…

Rafe Hawk refuses to accept the inheritance, of a large English estate, and the title that goes with it, after his birth father’s death because the man chose duty over the woman he loved and their son.

So when he finds himself temporarily living at Kinsale Hall, he’s not prepared to trust anyone associated with the place, including Trudi Delaney and her daughter.

So why, when he looks into their eyes, does he suddenly remember a woman who vanished without a trace after saving his life one stormy night ten years earlier?

Now he could destroy hers.

Instinct warns Trudi Delaney the arrival of the contemptuous American architect at Kinsale Hall will change her life forever. Especially when she discovers he spends so much of his time in areas of Kinsale Hall off-limits to visitors.

Eleven years after escaping from her psychotic husband with a stranger, she’s still plagued by nightmares of events she can’t remember. Events such as, who fathered her beautiful daughter?

Now, more than a decade later, she is confronted by another stranger. Will this one destroy everything she holds dear?
~ ~ ~ ~

Excerpt:-
“Only Daniel Kinsale and his solicitors knew I’d arranged to meet him. No one knew I changed my schedule and arrived in England a week earlier than expected, and yet Denny Cadmore somehow discovered both my plans and identity.”

Rafe glared at his parent. “Given those facts, tell me why I should stake a claim on a god-forsaken English estate, when everything and everyone who means anything to me is here in Boston?”

The drone of the old-fashioned overhead fan broke the ensuing silence. The oppressive heat stalked through the room sapping the energy from anyone or anything in its path.

“Rafe you’re making me dizzy, sit down and stop prowling round the room.” His mother patted the cushions beside her. “How many times do I have to tell you, you were born from love, not lust? Whether you like it or not, you are the legitimate heir to your father’s estates.”

A shaft of sunlight caught a few silvery streaks in her blonde hair.

“But born out of wedlock,” Rafe snapped, before realising the words queued up for release.

“Yes, out of wedlock,” she sighed. “I’ve never denied it, nor have I stolen your entitlement to your birth name. Your birth father…” she paused for a few seconds, “…Daniel, loved me.”

She continued on a wistful note, “I knew he couldn’t divorce his wife and accepted we had no future together, only the present. I’ve explained why he felt duty bound to uphold his family’s expectations. Nor that you were unintended. Having you gave me reason to survive without Daniel. You are from the man of my heart.”

Rafe’s free hand crashed down on the table sending the letter floating to the floor. “If he loved you so much, how come another of his bastards crawled out of the woodwork? One whose birth certificate proves he’s ten days younger than me? How come that same bastard damn near sent me to my grave?

Explain that if you can!”

You can read the reviews HERE