Mine to Tell by Colleen L. Donnelly

 

Annabelle Crouse is determined to reopen her great-grandmother's boarded-up house--and her shunned life. Many years earlier, after an unexplained absence, Julianne was relegated to a separate home by a rigidly unforgiving husband, and the Crouse women have suffered the disgrace of her assumed guilt ever since.
Despite her family's strong disapproval, Annabelle is driven to pursue her mission through cobwebs and dust, finding the clues and the coded story left behind by her great-grandmother -- Why did she go? And why did she return? Annabelle has to know.
Only one person, a man she grew up with but never noticed, stands with Annabelle as she discovers the parallels between her story and her great-grandmother's--two women, generations apart, experiencing what love truly is.

Available at Online Retailers including Amazon

Excerpt

  “Mine to tell,” Kyle said suddenly. It was a jolt. I was yanked from my mental tumble into a pit of unredemption. Alex looked up too, a quizzical expression on his face. “Julianne left a story behind,” Kyle continued. “Some of it speculation and rumors by people who don’t know, and the rest of it by her own hand. It was a love story. One that was countered with suffering.”

We were all quiet. I looked at him, my heart melting as I heard his masculine voice speak of love and suffering. I wanted to lean across the table and hug him, but I was too afraid.

Alex leaned back in his chair. “What my father went through didn’t feel like love when we were little.”

“But maybe it was,” Kyle persisted, his tone smooth and even. “Does love always turn out the way we want it to?” Then he looked at me. “Julianne Crouse was a fine woman. We haven’t finished her story, but she suffered, and she was fine indeed.”

Tears came to my eyes. “Thank you,” I squeaked. Kyle stood and walked around the table to me. He helped me stand as he thanked them for their time. He retrieved Julianne’s picture, took my hand, and together we went to the door, Alex and his wife following us.


“I hope you’re right,” Alex said, running his hand through his thin, brittle hair as we stepped outside. “My father had some things to come to terms with, but he was a good man. A better man later in life, when he told us he was sorry. I never knew for what.”

Writing in Paris with Simone de Beauvoir by Gina Rossi

Paris in the spring – is there a more beautiful cliché? A few days before I receive the final edits for my brand new release 'The Sea Horse Door', my Real Life Hero gets sent to Paris on a three month contract. Eagerly, I gather writing paraphernalia and pack.

We arrive on the chilly tail of winter, in the heart-breaking aftermath of the January terrorist attacks on the Charlie Hebdo offices. We go to the rally, the Sunday after, in the Place de la Republique, alongside one million others, thousands of whom are armed with pens, pencils and paintbrushes, rising as one to defend the principle of freedom of speech. I shall never forget that.

I must work. It’s Monday, and Paris remains eerily empty and subdued. Head down I tackle edits. When the final galley goes off, I lift my head to see a mist of green in the treetop outside our fifth storey window. Outside, I don’t dash about for basic groceries like I’ve been doing, but rather take a deep breath of early spring air and marvel at the feeling of rebirth and restoration. Never mind air pollution – there’s only freshly baked baguette, excellent coffee, and chocolate, mingling their way to my nostrils from the market stalls on nearby Rue de Buci, beckoning. I follow, passing a spectacular greengrocer, and a shellfish counter, laden with jewels of the sea nestling in crushed ice not yet melted by the early spring sun.

Tables are set on the sidewalk, where tables haven’t been: wineglasses, yellow roses in pink vases, cutlery and crisp white napkins. Umbrellas and awnings appear, tentative, not tempting meteorological fate. I find the Rue de Seine, and walk a few blocks, coming out of the narrow street alongside the gilt tipped dome of L’Académie Français onto the Quai de Conti. Standing on the lovelock-burdened Pont des Arts, I gaze at the sparkling river − pink, gold and green, like a Renoir.
Walking along the river, going with the flow for a while, I turn south, through different narrow streets lined with interesting doorways, tiny antique shops, compact art galleries, a vintage chandelier store dripping with crystals, a handmade soap boutique, bespoke perfume shop (is there not enough ready-made perfume in France?) and many small, charming hotels. I emerge on the Boulevard Saint Germaine and go into the church, alone but for one elderly gentleman, praying in the chapel devoted to military veterans 'mort pour la France'. In the glow of ancient stained glass and candlelight, I visit the wooden statue of the saint himself, lighting a candle, to keep everything safe, for now, everyone, everywhere, please.

Coffee time, and where better than Les Deux Magots, a few steps across the road, since I’m a writer? I sit inside with the ghosts of the literary great; besides, it’s a little chilly, this first spring day to sit outside, overhung by the great grey shadow of the abbey.

If you come in through the door on Rue Bonaparte, you’ll see me in the far left corner, next to the window. Here, the best (and possibly the most expensive) coffee in Paris is served, but it arrives in a silver pot, with a jug of hot milk, sugar and a 'petit biscuit', and special little paper sleeves on the hot handles, so you don’t burn yourself.

There’s a photo behind me, on the wall, of Simone de Beauvoir. I’m sitting at her table when I have an idea. Out comes my notebook. I scribble a few lines, with her looking over my shoulder; it seems the very best thing for a writer to do at this moment.

Later, I wander home. What’s the next project? Something set – or partially set − in eternally beautiful Paris? Definitely. Did Simone steer me in this direction? I love that thought.

There’s a raindrop. I look up between the graceful, grey stone buildings adorned with curving black balustrades. Black clouds cover the sun, having their last moment. Nearly home I glance at the tree in the small square outside our front door. It’s greener than this morning, I’m absolutely sure of it.

LES DEUX MAGOTS: http://www.lesdeuxmagots.fr/en/ambiances.php#/ambiances.php

THE SEA HORSE DOOR: http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=242_175_133&products_id=6165

This blog first appeared as part of the Long and Short Reviews Spring Blogfest on 3 April 2015

Interview with Christian Aguillard, Hero of Love for Sale

Hello everyone!

I am talking with Christian Aguillard, the hero in my upcoming fantasy romance, Love for Sale.

1. Christian, how did you meet our heroine, March Morgan, since she lives in Houston and you hail from England?
March saw Mayfair Electronic’s small classified ad in a women’s journal and booked an appointment to meet the others and me.

2. Tell us about your interesting secret.
I am a sentient android created by Mayfair Electronics, Ltd., Dover Street, London and called the Special Editions. My siblings and I are indistinguishable from human and are sold as companions. We’re programmed to love, honor and obey, more or less. With me, no programming was necessary. The first time I saw March, I was immediately in love. I’m very fortunate indeed that she chose me and signed on the dotted line to make her man payment, as she says. I could have been programmed for another but never with the simple feeling that struck my heart when I walked into that room, and March faced me. We both froze, gazing into each other’s eyes.

3. I take it then that you have emotions—feelings like the human being you replicate.
Yes, very much so. And those feelings can be hurt, just as your feelings can be hurt. For all intents and purposes, we are human.

4. Why isn’t Mayfair doing a high profile advertising campaign to promote and sell the Special Editions? I’m sure there are many—I for one—who’d love the opportunity to have such a companion.
We’re being placed in a process rather like adoption because the populace at large isn’t ready to accept another life form, as it were . If we were public knowledge, there’d be the usual hue and cry, doubtless to say more than the protests against cloning. Companions custom-programmed for love and devotion would threaten the tenuous relationships between men and women everywhere, don’t you think?

5. Yes, I do agree, but it’s such a crime that those who’d love that special someone are missing the opportunity because they don’t know that such a companion exists.
Sad for both our kind and yours. At birth, a distinct personality is instilled in each of us. When we go with our companion, intricate data from a personal questionnaire completed by the applicant is fed into our memory banks, then being incorporated into that personality.

6. You are fascinating and simply perfect. I’ll sign on the dotted line.
There are five female and five male models. One of us would probably suit you. The males are Trevor, Stuart, Marcus, Daniel and Christian. The females are Monica, Dawn, Georgia, Marguerite and Samantha. We range in height, coloring and other physical features—women’s breasts, etc. and the male’s equipment—which are customized for each purchaser.

7. Tell us a little about the story of March and Christian.
I expected Utopia. I was in love, and it was obvious the feeling was mutual. I wasn’t prepared for the real world, and far too soon internal and external forces threatened our happiness…indeed our lives.

8. Like Mayfair Electronics, The Wild Rose Press is offering Love for Sale. Watch for this story’s release soon. We don’t have a cover yet, but here’s a tantalizing picture of Christian.

Thanks to Christian! Looking forward to meeting you soon in Love for Sale!
Available June 10th!
www.thewildrosepress.com
Linda Nightingale
http://www.lindanightingale.com

Write. Dream. Dance. By Tammy L. Bailey

When I was in high school, I wanted to be a:

F-16 fighter pilot
Dancer on Fame (television show)
George Clooney’s girlfriend (when he was on The Facts of Life)

I didn’t think of becoming a published author until 2004, after watching the 1995 Jane Austen adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. I was inspired. So, I bought a laptop and began writing. A few books and over one hundred queries later, I received the awaited email from The Wild Rose Press regarding my contemporary romance, LORD BACHELOR. I was sitting in my happy writing space, working on my next round of queries when I read the good news. Strike that...unbelievable, wonderful, life-changing news! Of course, I made my husband read the message, just in case I was hallucinating.

He confirmed what I read, and I broke into the happy dance next to my chair. The ‘happy dance’ is what happens when a writer receives word their book is about to be published. I’m not sure if the moves are universal, however, I do believe all of them involve slipping into The Running Man at some point.

Since retiring out of the Ohio Air National Guard, I try to visit my chair several times a day. My typical writing week looks a little like this:

Monday-Friday
5:00 A.M. Wake up and hit snooze
5:15 A.M. Wake up, stumble, and zigzag to my writing chair
6:00 A.M. Save project and get ready for work
7:00 A.M. Commute 40 minutes to my job, hoping no one is filming me singing...and dancing to, “It’s Raining Men”
4:30 P.M. Drive home, make dinner, and Google school work because I have no idea how to do this new math
7:30 P.M. Escape to my writing chair
8:30 P.M. Spend time with boys and tuck them into bed
9:30 P.M. Stumble and zigzag to my own bed and try to fall asleep as my characters carry on a fascinating conversation in my head

Sat-Sun
A big blur

To say the least, I’m very excited about sharing LORD BACHELOR, and I’m so fortunate to have found a wonderful editor who was willing to take a chance on me and the book. She also did a great job of reminding me when to breathe.

Although I don’t have a release date, I’m learning the art of marketing and continuing to write in my writing space where there are plenty of ‘happy’ plants to keep me company. I’m also perfecting my dance moves for my next unbelievable, wonderful, life-changing email.

Thanks for taking the time to read my blog post. I look forward to hearing from you.

Tammy L. Bailey
http://www.tammylbailey.com

How Do YOU read? - an inquiry from author Cj Fosdick

Fifteen Minutes a day? An hour before bedtime? Weekends or Vacations? Print or eBook? Mystery, Romance, multi genre? Favorite authors? With music or silence?

Check out this ten question multiple choice survey! You may even learn something about your reading habits and how others select books!  https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/9VR7373

Many thanks from Cj Fosdick, author of
the multi-genre new Wild Rose Press novel,  "The Accidental Wife"