Hanging Out in D.C.

Here I am at my first RWA National Conference. So many books and so many people! I walked 4.5 miles just around the hotel today. Lots of fun. I ran into Rhonda Penders coming off the escalator when I was leaving the Literacy Booksigning. She is as beautiful and gracious as ever!

JOSHUA'S HOPE has been receiving lots of fabulous reviews and reader comments are very complimentary. If you'd like a chance to win a free e-copy, stop by From the Pages blog and leave a comment on my interview with Sarita Leone.



Carol Ann Erhardt
www.carolannerhardt.com
www.carolannerhardt.blogspot.com

Stock Up Time!

I'm on sale, and I didn't even know it! How much fun is that?

My Wild Rose Press Rosette short stories are all on sale this month for less than a dollar each. That's right, they're just pennies--a real bargain, anything under a buck, don't you think?

Anyhow, the link is here. I hope you'll go check it out. I was so pleased to find myself on sale!

Lots of short stories at The Wild Rose Press are on sale...I'm going to indulge in a mini-spree, so I'll have lots to read on my little netbook.

Hope you're having a nice day!

Petticoat Pledges

Petticoat Pledges is available from The Wild Rose Press .

Hope you enjoy the excerpt!

Sarita

Sarita Leone

From the Heart

The blurb:

By the time the war is in its third year, those left behind in eastern Mississippi are accustomed to hard times. They've overcome physical obstacles, adjusted their expectations, and gone from grand, gracious living to...well, just living. And while many hardships can be handled,there are others that are so painful as to be nearly unendurable.

When Valentine's Day approaches and Bettie hasn't any word from the man she's pledged to love, she learns how deep the pain of silence can be.Will she hear from Henry on the day decreed for love? Or will she go on waiting...and wondering?

The excerpt:

Mississippi, 1864

"I don't understand it. Everyone else has already gotten word, even if it's just a little something, from their men. But me? Nothing," Bettie said, knotting her fingers in her lap. There were moments, like this one, when she wondered if the children she taught at the one-room schoolhouse were the closest she'd get to having her own.She hoped not, but in these uncertain hours the only thing she could be sure of was her burning desire for the war to end. Not tomorrow, but today—this very minute, if possible. "Not a tiny scrap of paper with an `I love you' on it, not one of those darling braided hearts made from wheat stalks, not even a walnut with a heart carved on its side. Nothing. Which, believe me, is much worse that even the grimiest, scraggliest little bit of something." Hanging her head so low that the ends of her pinned blonde curls touched her shoulders, she screwed her eyes tightly shut and willed the tears not to fall. When she was certain she'd won the crying battle, at least for now, she looked up at the woman who sat beside her in the dimly-lit parlor and shrugged. "What can I say? I must be spoiled rotten to be thinking of myself at a time like this but honestly, Julia, I can't help it."

Reaching across the divan cushions, the other woman patted her hand. The expression on her thin, weary face mirrored those worn by so many others. If only one word could be used to describe the widespread look, it would be resigned.

"You're not spoiled, not one bit. Why, if anything,you're fully deprived of each and every little pleasure of life, almost. All of the things we were accustomed to, all of the gay gatherings, tasty food and comforts of life are gone from us. To yearn for some word from Henry,especially when others have gotten theirs, can hardly be considered spoiled."

It was true. There wasn't one family in eastern Mississippi who hadn't felt the ravages of war, the effects of declaring independence from the heavy-handed Northern oppression, dearly. Since the state had seceded in January `61, there had been little comfort, happiness or pleasure for anyone. Now, three long, hard years later, it was nearly impossible for those left at home to recall life before the war with anything but the merest shadow of a memory, at times so vague and elusive it seemed more imagined than actual dreams.

For most, word of the war was one of the main reasons they went on living. That and the snippets of communication from their loved ones on the battlefields,brought by any means available to their work-worn hands and love-starved hearts.

"Ours was such a fast promise, a spur-of-the-moment pledge the morning they were leaving. Why, as a group of men walked by, Henry called out to me. It was just as casual as if he'd asked me to dance with him at the Harvest Ball. `Love me while I'm gone, won't you,Bettie?'It was a request that I'll hear always. Even in my sleep his sweet voice comes to me." The words were nearly whispered now, as she recalled the crispness of the morning they were first uttered.

Finally, This Season

Hi all! Hope you enjoyed your holiday celebration. Now that the eating is behind us, and the shopping (for those of you who were brave enough to go out on Black Friday!), what better entertainment could we find than to settle in with a good read? Or two? Or three?

The following is an excerpt from Finally, This Season, my English Tea Rose short story. I hope you enjoy it!

Happy Saturday!

~Sarita
Sarita Leone
From the Heart

The blurb:

Alexandra can’t think of anything more annoying than being told she must choose a husband, and soon, but that’s exactly what’s happened. Her father has decided she’s of an age where marriage is appropriate—necessary, even—and has decreed she will choose her own husband this Season or he will do the choosing for her. What is a proper young woman to do in circumstances such as these? That is precisely what Alexandra is contemplating as she takes a walk in the park, and accidentally kicks a stone at a handsome stranger.

An excerpt:

Alexandra Parkington kicked random stones into the greenery beside the red-cobbled walk with the toe of a shiny black side-button shoe. The mildly violent action gave her some measure of relief from the vexing issues in her mind—although not enough.
Not nearly enough. There was no way to avoid the inevitable. Perhaps she’d have to give in and…
Accept it? Never, not while a breath remained in her, not so long as she possessed the wits to run, not even if all the powers of Heaven and—
“I say, have you some valid reason for this assault, or are you simply using me for target practice?” The words caught Alexandra unawares, and she stopped short, her sapphire blue skirts rustling as they swirled around her ankles.
The gentleman who stood before her bent to rub his shin, giving her a satisfying, albeit brief, look at his thick black curls and wide shoulders. When he straightened, she saw that his features matched his voice. Boyish good looks, dazzling smile and a sturdy physique comprised the man whom she’d had the unfortunate bad taste to mark with a stone. The offending rock lay on the ground between them, equal distance between Alexandra’s skirt and his polished shoes.
“A poor choice of weaponry on your part, if your intention was to kill me. But if it were merely to maim, then this was an excellent selection.” He pushed the stone forward a scant inch with his toe before bending to retrieve it. Tossing it into the air, and then catching it, he smiled. “So, which was it? Death or disarming? Because I assure you, Miss, I am completely disarmed by your charm, if not your projectile.”

To buy Finally, This Season clickhere .

Proclamations, A Love Story

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. I love the way families gather close, bound by shared love and history. One of my favorite parts of the holiday happens after the meal has been eaten and the dishes cleared. We sit around the long table talking and laughing. Invariably the conversation shifts to a "Do you remember when...?" mode and we reminisce about days gone by.

Every family has a history. I love to hear about other people's family stories. As a writer I'm lucky enough to be able to create families, and histories for them. And I'm fortunate that I can put my characters in my favorite spots in history.

Proclamations, a short American Rose story I wrote a few years ago, combines my love of history, romance and Thanksgiving. It's a sweet story, and shows that while not every Thanksgiving was easy, they are all memorable in some way.

Click TWRP- Proclamations to find the story.

Here's the blurb:

The War Between the States has been raging for two long years. In Virginia in 1863 Jolene Crane misses her fiance, Nate, more than words can say. Every moment that she's not busy taking care of household chores or working at the hospital, she's consumed by her longing for the man who holds her heart.
When Abraham Lincoln signs a proclamation declaring the fourth Thursday in November a day to be celebrated joyfully and thankfully, Jolene is determined not to celebrate the day. After all, what has she got to be thankful for? And the only proclamations that come to mind have all to do with the losses they've suffered and little to do with celebrating.
But when a new wave of soldiers arrives at the hospital on the day before the holiday, Jolene just may find that she does, in fact, have something to celebrate.

And a short excerpt:

Virginia, 1863

The breeze held a chill as it touched her cheek.Shivering, Jolene Crane pulled the knitted cotton shawl closer around her shoulders as she rocked more vigorously on the front porch. Twilight deepened, the violet hues of the late October skyline pulling every house on the lane beneath its cloak.

If they were lucky the night sky would remain dark,free of the glare of distant gunfire. That had been the case for the past fortnight and every person in town hoped the silence would continue.
But she wasn’t thinking about any of that. No, she had different things on her mind, things of a more personal nature. Things that were more important to her than battles, gunfire, and food shortages. More important,even, than the threat that the war brought to the very existence of the only life she’d ever known.

Oh Nate, where are you tonight? What are you doing?

Where is the Army of the Potomac camped right now? If I knew the answers to those questions I’d find a way to come to you. To see you with my own eyes and to bring you home. I’d hide you in the root cellar or out in the barn—I don’t care anymore about who wins this rotten war. I just want you back here with me. Two years is such a long time to miss someone.

How much more can I bear?

I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving! I hope it's filled with laughter and love. And I hope you make a few memories that will become part of your family's history!

Guest moderating in the Garden

Hi all!

I just wanted to stop by and let everyone know I'm this week's guest moderator in the Wild Rose reader's loop. I'm tickled to be doing this and I'm hoping to get everyone chatting up a storm. Won't you stop by and visit a while?

I'll be looking for you! :)

~Sarita
www.saritaleone.com
From the Heart

Finally, This Season review

Finally, This Season has been reviewed by The Long and The Short of It Reviews and has gotten a 5-Book Rating! Here's what they had to say:

"Finally, This Season will beguile romance fans from the very first line. This short, historic romance is an absolute delight.

The old world sense combines with that hint of formality that marked the life of the gentry of old. We follow this story from Central Park to ballroom. Yet, comfortably familiar though the setting is, the unexpected spontaneity of the story bubbles through.

The tone of the dialogue enhances this, by offering a certain level of lightheartedness. The dialogue even gives a hint of history, through word choice and sentence structure. I can do no better than to offer a short excerpt:

"For you it seems a small payment, but for me...ah, it is a most treasured gift." He turned toward the path and held out his arm. "Shall we?"

The quality of the main characters is undeniable, the conflict realistic, the lovely Miss Alexandra Parkington, practical. This is the classic romance.

Five books to Ms. Leone and a thank-you for this most engaging of reads."

Woo Hoo! I am thrilled!!

~Sarita Leone
Sarita Leone

Freedom's Touch

A few days ago I read all of the Celtic Brooch stories that have been released so far. What a series! My story, Freedom's Touch, is the second story in the series and really, I'm so pleased to be part of such a talented group of writers. I loved writing my story and I love reading the other contributions. I look forward to each new release.

This Saturday morning I thought I'd share a small excerpt of my story, Freedom's Touch. It takes place during the Civil War, when women struggled on the homefront while their men decided the nation's destiny. I hope you enjoy it. :)

~Sarita Leone
http://saritaleone.blogspot.com/
www.saritaleone.com

Weary, that’s what I am. Plain weary. This whole
affair has gone on for so long, with so much heartbreak.
Even when I try and do all I can to further our cause there
always seems to be a blockade to go around…or over…or
under. Why oh why can’t everyone see this slavery issue for
what it is? Why can’t we simply let people live as they were
intended to live without having to go through all of this
misery? Damn, I’m so tired of it all! Just so…

At the sound of the approaching horse, Kay turned
and opened the door. Had Captain Conrad forgotten to
tell her something? Surely not another maudlin
warning…

Stepping out onto the porch, she noticed, as she had
earlier, the scent of a few early rose blooms that wafted
upward on the night air and surrounded her with their
sweet fragrance. A distant grandmother’s transplant, the
roses grew in abundance beside the front porch and along
the back wall of the garden, in the side cutting garden
and near the barn. Their fragrance masked the odor of the
privy, as well. Apparently a snippet of a rose bush grew in
profusion when planted in rich, sweet soil!

Crossing her arms over her bosom, she waited for the
men to make themselves known to her a second time. She
saw only one large black mass in the darkness and
thought Mr. Parker must wait at the end of the lane,
assumed that the Captain had one last word or two to
exchange with her.

The voice that came to her from the gloom wasn’t the
one she expected. It was, instead, the voice she heard
night after night in her dreams.

“Why, you’d think it was an ordinary occasion for you
to receive visitors after dark, the way you’re standing
there in your night dress.”

“Marsh—is that really you?”

The figure swung off his mount, secured the animal
to the hitching post and took the steps two at a time.

“Of course it’s me, Katy-did. Did you expect someone
else?” His teasing tone made her heart skip a beat, as did
the familiar nickname—no one else called her Katy-did
but Marsh. The sound of it on his lips stole her breath
away.

Throwing her arms around him, she lifted her face to
his and smiled. He felt solid in her arms, the living
embodiment of her endless imaginings. Pressing herself to
him, she opened her mouth to speak but didn’t manage to
utter a sound. Marsh’s mouth met hers with a hunger
that took them both by surprise. Their lips touched, their
tongues explored and their bodies heated as all the
repressed desires rose to the surface in the beat of their
hearts. Kay met his touch without restraint, her tongue
swirling around his in the age-old dance of love that
required no lessons.

The thin cotton nightdress provided no buffer
between her body and the regulation uniform Marsh was
wearing. His arousal was evident, insistent against her
body as her hips ground into his.

I don’t know what you’re doing here, my darling man,
but I’m not going to let you go until we’ve dropped these
barriers between us. So often I wonder if I’ll ever see you
again. Why waste what precious time we have on social
protocol? It’s ridiculous, and I won’t stand for it, not
another second. In this world, a second may have to
sustain us for a lifetime. And more importantly, you feel so
completely enchanting…

Finally, This Season release day!

Finally, This Season releases today! I'm so excited! I love seeing this beautiful cover on the "New Releases" line up!

This is my eighth short story with The Wild Rose Press. I'm just as thrilled today as I was the day my first short story with them, For The Love of Grace, came out. I just love being a part of this publishing house, being here with this dynamite group of talented authors and getting to know readers who appreciate a good romance. What more could anyone ask for?

A litte about Finally, This Season...

Alexandra can’t think of anything more annoying than being told she must choose a husband, and soon, but that’s exactly what’s happened. Her father has decided she’s of an age where marriage is appropriate—necessary, even—and has decreed she will choose her own husband this Season or he will do the choosing for her. What is a proper young woman to do in circumstances such as these? That is precisely what Alexandra is contemplating as she takes a walk in the park, and accidentally kicks a stone at a handsome stranger.

And a taste of the story itself...

Alexandra Parkington kicked random stones into the greenery beside the red-cobbled walk with the toe of a shiny black side-button shoe. The mildly violent action gave her some measure of relief from the vexing issues in her mind—although not enough.

Not nearly enough. There was no way to avoid the inevitable. Perhaps she’d have to give in and…

Accept it? Never, not while a breath remained in her, not so long as she possessed the wits to run, not even if all the powers of Heaven and—

“I say, have you some valid reason for this assault, or are you simply using me for target practice?” The words caught Alexandra unawares, and she stopped short, her sapphire blue skirts rustling as they swirled around her ankles.

The gentleman who stood before her bent to rub his shin, giving her a satisfying, albeit brief, look at his thick black curls and wide shoulders. When he straightened, she saw that his features matched his voice. Boyish good looks, dazzling smile and a sturdy physique comprised the man whom she’d had the unfortunate bad taste to mark with a stone. The offending rock lay on the ground between them, equal distance between Alexandra’s skirt and his polished shoes.

“A poor choice of weaponry on your part, if your intention was to kill me. But if it were merely to maim, then this was an excellent selection.” He pushed the stone forward a scant inch with his toe before bending to retrieve it. Tossing it into the air, and then catching it, he smiled. “So, which was it? Death or disarming? Because I assure you, Miss, I am completely disarmed by your charm, if not your projectile.”

I hope you'll take a look at Finally, This Season. And if you do read it, please let me know what you think of it. I love hearing from readers!

Finally, This Season Countdown!

I'm so excited! Finally, This Season releases next week! That's right, one week from today! This is my first English Tea Rose title and I had such fun writing it.

Doesn't it have the most gorgeous cover?

A peek into what to expect from this story...

Alexandra can’t think of anything more annoying than being told she must choose a husband, and soon, but that’s exactly what’s happened. Her father has decided she’s of an age where marriage is appropriate—necessary, even—and has decreed she will choose her own husband this Season or he will do the choosing for her. What is a proper young woman to do in circumstances such as these? That is precisely what Alexandra is contemplating as she takes a walk in the park, and accidentally kicks a stone at a handsome stranger.

Just wanted to stop in and say "hi" and invite you to countdown with me to Finally, This Season.

Until next time,

Sarita

Sarita Leone

Bay Leaves and Bundles

Last week my latest short story in the American Rose garden, Bay Leaves and Bundles, was released. I loved writing this sweet little story, and I thought I'd take a few minutes and share a bit of it with you. I hope you like it!

A blurb:

Amy had her heart set on becoming Mrs. Ben Warner, the handsomest man in Williamsburg. She wanted to toss his tricorn hat to the ground, run her fingers through his soft, silky curls and press her body to his. She dreamed of hearing his declaration of love, of feeling a delicate gold circle on her finger. But in 1775 romantic young ladies didn’t simply toss, caress and press. They waited for the man to declare.

How, then, to encourage Ben’s declaration of love? Amy has a few ideas…

And an excerpt:

“I have seen my sweetheart—on several occasions,”
insisted Amy, settling her head on the pillowcase with
infinite care. “But it never hurts to have the bay leaves in
place when I dream of him, which I do nightly, I assure
you.”

“Then what do you hope to accomplish? If you’ve
already seen him in your dreams there is no need for the
leaves—or the pins,” Martha said, weaving the final
inches of her long blonde hair into a braid.

“I’m simply hoping to…to…oh, I don’t know. Speed
things along, perhaps? You’re lucky; you’ve already got a
date set for your wedding. But me, I have yet to get a man
to propose marriage, let alone set the date.” Lowering her
voice as they heard their parents climb into their creaky
rope bed in the room next to theirs, Amy said,
“Valentine’s Day is next week. I’ve been praying he’ll
come calling, maybe even ask to spend the night. I’ve been
praying, night and day it seems, that my sweetheart
would come to me and then maybe my life could move
forward. Oh, Martha, I’ve been praying!” Amy laced her
fingers together and waved them toward the low-beamed
ceiling.

Martha shook her head as she leaned over and blew
out the candle. Settling herself on her own pillow, she
murmured, “You’d best pray you don’t poke your eye out
with those straight pins.”

Thanks for reading!

~Sarita
http://saritaleone.blogspot.com/

Author Interview on Inside The Writer's Mind!

This is an exciting day for me!

I've been interviewed on Carol Ann Erhardt's blog, Inside the Writer's Mind. I'm just tickled about this, and I hope you'll head on over there and see what Carol Ann and I chatted about. I had a great time doing this, Carol Ann's a wonderful hostess!

The interview is here. Thanks for stopping by!

Sarita Leone

PS. - Just a hint. The interview is about me, but also about my story, Freedom's Touch, Part 2 of the Legacy of the Celtic Brooch. I give away a few secrets about how the story came to be, stuff I haven't shared anywhere else. Somehow Carol Ann, with her charm and smiles, wheedled a few confidences from me! It was such fun! :)

Freedom's Touch Excerpt

Good morning all!

It's snowy here and I'm honestly feeling kind of disgruntled by snow on our daffodils but I just had to visit with all of you. I knew it would cheer me and besides, I wanted to post an excerpt from my latest release, FREEDOM'S TOUCH. It released yesterday from The Wild Rose Press and it is something that puts a smile on my face this snowy morning. I hope it does the same for you.

Enjoy!

The voice that came to her from the gloom wasn't the one she expected. It was, instead, the voice she heard night after night in her dreams.

"Why, you'd think it was an ordinary occasion for you to receive visitors after dark, the way you're standing there in your night dress."

"Marsh—is that really you?"

The figure swung off his mount, secured the animal to the hitching post and took the steps two at a time.

"Of course it's me, Katy-did. Did you expect someone else?" His teasing tone made her heart skip a beat, as did the familiar nickname—no one else called her Katy-did but Marsh. The sound of it on his lips stole her breath away.

Throwing her arms around him, she lifted her face to his and smiled.He felt solid in her arms, the living embodiment of her endless imaginings. Pressing herself to him, she opened her mouth to speak but didn't manage to utter a sound. Marsh's mouth met hers with a hunger that took them both by surprise. Their lips touched, their tongues explored and their bodies heated as all the repressed desires rose to the surface in the beat of their hearts. Kay met his touch without restraint, her tongue swirling around his in the age-old dance of love that required no lessons.

The thin cotton night dress provided no buffer between her body andthe regulation uniform Marsh was wearing. His arousal was evident, insistent against her body as her hips ground into his.

I don't know what you're doing here, my darling man, but I'm not going to let you go until we've dropped these barriers between us, thought Kay.

(c) Sarita Leone, April 2007

Freedom's Touch

FREEDOM'S TOUCH, Book Two in the Legacy of the Celtic Brooch Series, releases tomorrow! I am excited beyond words about this. It was a great honor to be invited to participate in this wonderful project and I hope my installment of the series will be enjoyed by readers. It takes the brooch from one age into another, this time into the turmoil of the Civil War.

A blurb:

Across an ocean, to another land and time, the brooch goes from hand to hand, heart to heart.

As the Civil War rages, Kay Lane does what most women do—she works to keep her country home intact, struggles to manage her family’s small shop and waits for word that the chaos that’s invaded their lives will soon come to an end. She hopes, too, for word of the man who has claimed her heart. Marsh was one of the first to volunteer for duty, and now that he’s gone Kay wishes they had married before he left.

But regrets won’t win a war, and as Marsh fights his battles, Kay wages her own crusade for freedom. She becomes a conductor for the Underground Railroad, using her ancestral brooch to signal the arrival of new fugitives.But will Kay and Marsh’s shared love and unerring belief that freedom belongs to all be enough to shelter them through the next big battle? Gettysburg looms and the hands and hearts that hold the brooch will be forced to endure new trials. Only time will tell if freedom’s touch will unite —or separate—them.

And an excerpt:

“Thank you, ma’am,” the woman whispered, her voice cracking as she spoke. Kay understood that on the trail to freedom, words were a luxury those on the run could ill afford to waste and she was touched by the woman’s show of gratitude.

“You’re very welcome,” Kay said. She would have loved to linger but with every passing minute the chance she could be discovered missing from the house grew. “When you move on tonight, keep traveling north. You’ll walk a good twelve miles this night, so rest well. Go back the way you came, through the woods until you find the stream again. Walk beside it as it winds toward the mountains. Follow the north star—you know that one, don’t you?” She waited until all three heads nodded before she continued. “Follow the star, keeping the stream on your right side.”
She held up her right hand and waited until three darker ones joined hers. “Until you see a cabin beneath a stand of pines. There will be an ‘X’ on the side of the cabin—you know what an ‘X’ is, don’t you? Good, then just go into the cabin and wait. The next conductor will be to you before sunrise. Do you understand what I’ve told you?”

“Yes’m, we do.” The man sounded tired and looked as if he needed a bath, a hot meal and a warm bed.

Kay resisted the impulse to reach out and hug him, knowing her desire to comfort would be shocking for the travel-weary passengers to deal with. She wished she could offer these people more, wished with all her heart and soul they didn’t have to pay so dearly for their freedom. But wishing, especially in a world gone mad the way theirs had, only made her sad. She took a deep breath and placed a hand on the latch that opened the hidden panel.

Before leaving, she turned and met the gaze of each person and held it for several long moments, trying to memorize their faces. It was the only way she had of keeping them close. After she scooted through the panel and out of the barn, she would never see any of them again. Instead she’d be left to wonder whether they completed their journey, whether they lived or died and whether they’d found freedom in this world—or the next.