To paraphrase Forest Grump, “Publishing is like a bucket of unshelled peanuts. The only way to know what’s inside is to put the gritty, ole thing in your mouth and bite down.” Ouch!

Moral: Publishing is a tough nut to crack. And sometimes even if you do crunch your way through the shell, you disappointingly find only one nut instead of two. To borrow another famous phrase—this one from a Northern invader/philosopher 🙂 —“War is Hell.” But what did General Sherman know? He was only fighting a war. We’re talking about getting a manuscript published.

When we write a book, the vision most of us have in mind is row after row of our book covers lining the shelves of a bookstore like Barnes & Noble. Our name at the top of the New York Times Bestseller list and the USA list and (what the heck, might as well go whole hog) named top seller on all the European lists, too. Producers elbowing each other out of the way to get us to sign over movie rights. Nice thought, isn’t it?

Unfortunately, few people accomplish that dream. Many of us languish, writing book after book, sending out query letters by the ton and waiting. Our children grow older and have children of their own, when at long last the prized, long-awaited letter arrives from Dorchester (or insert the name of any publishing house you choose). We snatch it from the mailbox, tear open the envelope with trembling fingers and… “Sorry, but your work doesn’t fit our needs at the moment. Good luck with your writing endeavors.”

Well, thanks for nuthin’, bud.

So here’s my recommended cure for the print effort blues. Try an electronic publisher.

Why go with an electronic publisher for your work? There are several reasons. First, you’ll get a response to your query before you’re being wheeled into the retirement home. Many e-pubs will respond in two weeks, though some may take a couple of months. Still better than most print pubs.

Second, unlike the old days (and may I say, unlike self-publishing), once you’re accepted, you’re very likely to have some fine editing, which all of us need (be honest!). And if you’re as lucky as me, you’ll get some fabulous cover art, too. Gone are the days when e-publishing suffers under the reputation of producing only poor quality plots and lousy editing. Likewise, the days of horrible poser cover art is mostly gone. Many of today’s e-pub artists compete very favorably with artists at big-name publishing houses.

Next, once you’re established with a company, e-pubs will typically take simultaneous submissions. It’s not at all uncommon to have several e-books released in a year—maybe more if you’re prolific and with more than one publisher. My first year, Liquid Silver released four of my novels, two short stories, and a novella. Try having that kind of exposure with any print publisher. In this business—as in most other endeavors—name recognition is vital. Believe me, gaining that recognition is far easier with an e-publisher than with one book a year (or maybe two if you’re lucky) with a print publisher.

Finally, finding some success with an e-publisher helps build your credentials when you finally do give in and submit queries to agents and editors. Being able to say you have ten books completed, edited and released, with a reader base, is a lot better than saying you have a couple of untouched manuscripts lying under the bed you’d like to send for consideration.

To submit to e-publishers, the rules aren’t any different than those for print pubs. Look up the websites, check the submission guidelines and go for it. After you’ve finished the masterpiece, of course.

And there’s an operative word: completed (not masterpiece—that goes without saying). Make sure you’ve finished The Great American (or French or Bohemian, or whatever) Novel before querying. Once you do, to borrow another phrase, you’ll be one of the few, one of the proud—a worthy goal no matter where you’re trying to be published.

~Dee S. Knight

Dee’s latest book is written as Anne Krist, and is a non-erotic romance, Burning Bridges.

Burning Bridges

Letters delivered decades late send shock waves through Sara Richards’s world. Nothing is the same, especially her memories of Paul, a man to whom she’d given her heart years before. Now, sharing her secrets and mending her mistakes of the past means putting her life back together while crossing burning bridges. It will be the hardest thing Sara’s ever done.

“Ms. Krist has a heart-warming, emotional story on her hands. … This is one I highly recommend!” 5 Cups, Krista, Coffee Time Romance

“I did not want this story to end. Fans of romance should place Burning Bridges at the top of this summer’s reading list.” 5 Stars, Anne, Review Your Book

Buy link: KU mybook.to/BurningBridges

About Anne Krist

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website. Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Contact Anne at annekrist@nomadauthors.com.

Website: https://nomadauthors.com/annekrist/index.html

Can Rain solve his last case without getting his girlfriend arrested?

Rainier is a survivor. He’s made some mistakes, and now he’s paying for them. As a condition of his probation, he must work with the police on investigations where his skills might be useful. There is one more case to solve to complete his commitments. Then he’ll be free. As he heads undercover to work this last case, Sophia arrives in town. She is a childhood crush who means a great deal to Rain, and she is obviously terrified of someone.

Sophia has made a bad choice in the past, and now she’s in hiding to avoid dealing with it. Still, it follows her, and Rainier is the only one she can trust to help her deal with it.

Rain’s problem? The clues he uncovers on his final case all seem to lead directly to Sophia. Can he solve the case without breaking his heart or pointing the police in his girlfriend’s direction?

Get your copy here!

Excerpt from Rain Man…

At least they didn’t put him in jail. Rainier Murdoch couldn’t think of anything that would embarrass his folks more. Surprisingly, it had been a relief to be caught by the police, and deal with the whole mess after months of working undercover and running. His business partner was dead, and when the dust settled Rain was charged with running a gambling operation without a licence, and failure to pay the taxes on the proceeds. Now he was on probation.

Rain pulled his pickup to the side of the rural road and parked in the empty gravelled area he’d found here before. Early spring, and the sun was shining glaringly on the fast receding water in the flats. He reached for his binoculars in the glove box and climbed out to walk to the edge of the pond. Uncle Toby had a house on the other side of the open water and there wasn’t a better place in Victoria to watch the birds. Since moving to Vancouver Island from the Canadian Prairies, he’d missed the wildlife he’d grown up with in Saskatchewan.

The flats were quiet today, the shallow water still, a dozen large grey and black geese floating calmly in a circle near the middle of the pond. Through the trees, he caught sight of the deck of Uncle Toby’s house. He scanned the view with his binoculars, pausing in surprise. He’d been on that deck a few times with his uncle, there was a shower and a hot tub positioned there. Uncle Toby would pour him a scotch, toss him a towel and lead the way out the door where they’d each have a quick shower and step into the steaming water to relax and catch up with each other.

Someone was showering on the deck. He adjusted the lenses of his binoculars and took a closer look as his breath caught in his throat. It was a woman, young from the look of her, although her face wasn’t what held his total attention. As the water flowed over her shapely body, she soaped up then lifted an arm to rinse, her breast moving enticingly with the motion. She turned to wash her other side and he focussed on her ass. Very nice.

This wasn’t any business of his. Toby could entertain whomever he wanted at his place. He was a widower, after all. Rainier glanced around in sudden worry to see who else might be watching the activity on the deck. There was no one here but himself which caused the tension in his chest to ease somewhat.

The problem was, Uncle Toby had left town last week. Having finally retired from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, the national police force, he’d taken a long talked about trip to southeast Asia. The house should be empty. Had this person just steered down his road, walked onto the deck to shower and use his hot tub? As Rain watched, the woman leaned to shut off the showerhead and flipped the lid of the hot tub open. Then she stepped in, steam rising in a cloud around her.

What to do? Toby hadn’t specifically asked him to keep an eye on the house. Should he just ignore this? Since being charged with offences, Rainier had been released on bail. The conditions of his probation included working with the cops on various cases where they thought his skills would be of use. As time went by, he’d begun to feel like a police officer, given some kind of responsibility to enforce the law. Spending time with Uncle Toby in the last few months had simply reinforced that feeling. He couldn’t walk past this.

Lowering the binoculars, he headed determinedly for his truck. His job today was to find out what was going on at Uncle Toby’s place. Getting a closer look at the woman with the great ass and spectacular chest would just be a bonus.

When Rain pulled up in front of Uncle Toby’s door, everything looked normal. Toby’s truck was parked in its usual spot in the drive. He never used the twin garages attached to the side of the house, and on Rain’s first tour of the place, he’d noticed they were full of junk, so no room to fit his vehicle in there. Either the female visitor was driving Toby’s truck, or she’d left her car elsewhere. But she had to have access to a vehicle of some kind, out here in the boonies.

Parking right in front of the entry, he climbed out, slamming his door loudly. Didn’t want to startle anyone unnecessarily. Marching up the couple of steps to the front door, he pressed his thumb hard on the button for the doorbell. It chimed inside the house.

There was the sound of footsteps approaching, but the door didn’t open right away. He turned his face toward the side window, imagining he was being scrutinised by the occupant within. That probably meant they were nervous about having a caller show up at the door. The question was, would they open it?

Then he heard the lock snick back and saw the handle twist down. The door opened, and his heart beat a little harder. Would it be Toby or the woman he’d seen on the back deck?

He spotted a pair of bare feet, the toenails painted a dark red, and his gaze travelled up slim bare legs to the hem of a silky-looking green housecoat. There was enticing cleavage where the garment met across the woman’s chest. Her face was lovely, pale blue eyes and a plump mouth. A smile formed on that exquisite face. “Hello, Rain Man,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

About the Author

Author of many contemporary romantic suspense novels, and the sci fi/ fantasy series, The Last War, Sylvie Grayson loves to write about mystery, suspense, romance and murder, all about strong women who meet with dangerous odds, stories of tension and attraction.

She has lived most of her life in Canada, in spots ranging from Vancouver Island on the west coast to the North Peace River country and the Kootenays in the beautiful interior of British Columbia. She spent a year in Japan. She has been an English language instructor, a nightclub manager, an auto shop bookkeeper and a lawyer. She lives in southern British Columbia with her husband on a small piece of land near the Pacific Ocean.

Sylvie loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at sylviegraysonauthor@gmail.com, on her website at www.sylviegrayson.com where you can sign up for her newsletter or to follow her blog, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/sylvie.grayson or on BookBub at https://www.bookbub.com/profile/sylvie-grayson.

I am not a fan of Valentine’s Day. I think it forces people to proclaim their affection for others in rather commercial and materialistic ways. I find it ridiculous that we measure someone’s love by how widely they open their wallet on a single day.

Consider these numbers:

• This year, Americans are expected to spend $19.6 billion on Valentine’s Day.
• In 2018, the average consumer spent $143.56 on Valentine’s Day gifts. (Only $5.50 was spent on pets.)
• Approximately 144 million cards will be exchanged on that day.

That’s a pretty large investment in love, but I want to know I am loved 365 days a year.

So it may seem strange that my latest book, The White House Wedding, is considered a Valentine’s Day romance. However, my book focuses more on the intangibles of love, rather than on a holiday that celebrates love.

For me, all the chocolates, flowers, and jewels in the world won’t compensate for a tender kiss, a gentle hug, a whispered, “I love you.” A man who listens, who comforts, who supports, and who encourages is worth far more than truffles and champagne. He is priceless.

I don’t ask for and I don’t expect baubles and treats on Valentine’s Day. In fact, I don’t even want them. They have no real value. A man who feeds my soul, fills my heart, and stimulates my mind is all I need. You can’t buy love—though some may disagree. Love thrives on intangibles. It’s the million little things that wrap your life and your heart in a blanket of kindness, affection, contentedness, and peace.

I have been in love. I have thought I shared true love. I believed my love was everlasting. Only to have my heart shattered into a million pieces, the illusions held in the mirror of my soul obliterated. The anguish that followed was intense. The despair and denial. The utter hopelessness. Then the anger and the urge for revenge. And, finally the acceptance, the acknowledgment that it was time to move on. I can honestly say gifts or the lack thereof have never played a role in the failure of my relationships. The lack of intangibles did.

Because love isn’t a dozen roses on Valentine’s Day. Love just is.

An Interview with Seelie Kay

Q. Why do you write romance?

Because I am fascinated by the games people play to find and secure a lasting relationship, which is not always love. There’s the chase, the courtship, the falling, the surrender. That’s what I try to capture in my stories.

Q. Do you prefer a certain type of romantic hero?

I adore smart, dashing gentlemen who aren’t afraid to live on the edge. They can be a bad boy, a billionaire, a prince, or a secret agent. That hint of danger just hooks me! However, I also love strong, independent women who aren’t afraid to fight for what they want, even love.

Q. Why did you write The White House Wedding?

It was a bit of a romp, really. I wanted to play off all the craziness that is politics and Washington, D.C. The creatures in the great swamp have become so predictable, a story about the political implications and hijinks of a White House wedding just flowed from my pen. Plus, I always found it interesting that a country that intentionally broke away from the monarchy, goes crazy over royal weddings. Admittedly, I am one of them. I won’t get up at 4 a.m. to watch, like so many of my friends, but I will tape a royal wedding and watch it later. And yes, I did seek teacups from Diana’s nuptials. Unfortunately, none were to be found. At least stateside. I imagine once she dumped Prince Charles, their value went up dramatically! Unfortunately, White House weddings are rare and although we go crazy over royal weddings, I doubt things would proceed so smoothly here. Every aspect of the wedding would be dissected and criticized by the media and political opponents, making the wedding itself a pretty negative experience, which is probably so few occur here.

Q. The characters in this book also appeared in The President’s Daughter?

Yes. The President’s Daughter is where the bride’s—Sarah Lee Pearson—story first began. She had been kidnapped at age five and raised by her nanny into her teen years. It was only after the people who raised her were killed in a paper mill explosion that she began to search for other relatives. A chance meeting with a presidential candidate, Jamisen Powell, leads her search in a new direction and she discovers that he is, in fact, her birth father. This is the continuation of that new relationship.

Q. I imagine in this day and age, being the president’s daughter would not be an altogether positive experience.

(Laughs.) As I observe the impact of the Trump presidency on his children, I am exceptionally happy I was never put in that position. It must be a horrible experience. We live in such negative times, a time when people seem to place high value on their ability to shred reputations and destroy people. All of the current chaos puts us one step away from anarchy. In fact, if you think about it, it would be a perfect time for the Monarchy to attempt to reclaim the colonies. We are so busy fighting each other, I question whether we would band together to fight an outside threat. That’s just sad.

Q. How does your former profession as a lawyer impact your writing?

In two ways. First, my knowledge of the legal system permits me to predict the outcome of certain events. Those events have played a key role in some of my stories. Second, my friends say I am obsessed with justice and I guess that’s true. After 30 years, the law and the legal world are so firmly embedded in my brain that I can’t flush them out. That has become the lens through which I view the world and that naturally guides my characters and plots. Injustice infuriates me, but it also leads me to great stories!

The White House Wedding

When politics interferes with love, can love survive?

Getting married isn’t easy when your father’s the President of the United States! After reluctantly agreeing to a White House wedding, Sarah Lee Pearson, the president’s daughter, finds herself swept into a political maelstrom of unimagined proportions.

The White House staff and the first lady see the wedding as a political event, a way to sweep the president into his next term. Congress is complaining about the collateral costs. The media is delightfully rehashing every aspect of Sarah’s life, even those events that have nothing to do with the impending marriage. And the American public? Visions of an American royal wedding have swept them into a frenzy and vendors take advantage, making a quick buck off of everything from limited edition t-shirts to commemorative teacups.

Sarah and her fiancé, Sam, fight hard to ignore the craziness, but after learning a bounty has been put on their heads by an anti-government militia group, they have to decide whether a White House wedding is indeed worth it. And given all the hurtful controversy, perhaps a better solution is to not get married at all.

Excerpt from The White House Wedding…

“How does my father feel about this?” Sarah asked.

“Your father wants you to do what makes you happy.”

Jamisen Powell entered his Chief of Staff’s office and nodded coldly at Jeremiah. He added, “He would never ask you to do otherwise.”

Sarah smiled and rose to kiss her father on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad. I knew you wouldn’t ask me to be a political stool pigeon.”

Jamie Powell chuckled. “No. That job apparently falls to staff.” He smiled at Sarah. “Look, hopefully, you only get married once. Make a memory that will mean the most to you and Sam. Nothing else matters.” He shook his head, “Maybe Jeremiah will get lucky and your sister, Melissa, will hook some poor sucker before the next election. She and her mother would be overjoyed planning a White House wedding.”

Jeremiah scowled. “I am only thinking about your re-election, Mr. President. Your first term has been a bit rocky. You need a solidifying factor, something that will grab the hearts and minds of the American public and provide a clear path into the next term. Your story, a daughter lost and found after twenty-five years, especially a daughter who just happens to be a stellar human being and a successful international law attorney, won their hearts in the first election.

“Walking that same daughter down the aisle, something you had never dreamed was possible? The ratings alone will rival a royal wedding. No offense, but Melissa’s marriage—if it ever happens—could never have the same impact. People don’t view her in the same light as Sarah. Melissa is a flighty socialite. Her deep-seated sense of entitlement offends. The ratings for her wedding would be nonexistent. But Sarah? She’s the golden child. The American public loves her.”

The president’s sapphire blue eyes, which mirrored Sarah’s, flashed with annoyance. “Be that as it may, I am not about to force either of my daughters into something they don’t want. Sarah has declined your request, and as far as I am concerned, that’s the end of it. You will have to find another solidifying factor, Jer. Surely I have done something that’s re-election worthy!”

Buy links:
Publisher: https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2796-2-the-white-house-wedding/
Amazon: TBD
Barnes and Noble: TBD
Kobo: TBD

About Seelie Kay

Seelie Kay is a nom de plume for an award-winning writer, editor, and author with more than 30 years of experience in law, journalism, marketing, and public relations. When Seelie writes about love and lust in the legal world, something kinky is bound to happen! In possession of a wicked pen and an overly inquisitive mind, Ms. Kay is the author of multiple works of fiction, including the Kinky Briefs series, the Feisty Lawyers series, The Garage Dweller, A Touchdown to Remember, The President’s Wife, and The President’s Daughter.

When not spinning her kinky tales, Ms. Kay ghostwrites nonfiction for lawyers and other professionals. She resides in a bucolic exurb outside Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where she shares a home with her son and enjoys opera, gourmet cooking, organic gardening, and an occasional bottle of red wine.

Ms. Kay is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis. Her message to those diagnosed with MS: Never give up. You define MS, it does not define you!

Author links:
Website: https://www.seeliekay.com
Blog: https://www.seeliekay.blogspot.com
Twitter: @SeelieKay https://twitter.com/SeelieKay
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/seelie.kay.77
Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Seelie-Kay/e/B074RDRWNZ/

Prior Books:
https://www.extasybooks.com/kinky-briefs/
https://www.extasybooks.com/kinky-briefs-too/
https://www.extasybooks.com/kinky-briefs-thrice/
https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-1734-5-kinky-briefs-quatro/
https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2023-9-kinky-briefs-cinque/
https://www.extasybooks.com/the-garage-dweller/
https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-1504-4-a-touchdown-to-remember/
https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-1795-6-the-presidents-wife/
https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2263-9-snatching-diana/
https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2032-1-the-presidents-daughter
https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2291-2-infamy/
https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2349-0-seizing-hope/
https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2538-8-cult/
https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2658-3-hope/

UPDATE: The winner is Jody W!
*~*~*

©Diana Cosby 2020

I enjoy my walks and love the incredible inspiration from nature. And, I never know what amazing things I’m going to see.

As I travel along the beach, marsh, or through the woods, the beauty of nature relaxes me and refills my muse.

An amateur photographer, in addition to the fun challenge of seeing what nature photos I can take, I’m honored to share them with my readers on my Facebook Romance Author page.

In addition to seeing the beautiful birds that live in my area, it’s exciting seeing birds that are migrating through.

Inspired by my walks, when I sit down to write, I do so with the beauty of nature, of the scents, sights, and sounds vivid in my mind, memories that at times are woven into my stories.

About the Author

A retired Navy Chief, Diana Cosby is an international bestselling author of Scottish medieval romantic suspense. Books in her award-winning MacGruder Brothers series have been translated in five languages. Diana has spoken at the Library of Congress, Lady Jane’s Salon in NYC, and appeared in Woman’s Day, on USA Today’s romance blog, “Happy Ever After,” MSN.com, Atlantic County Women Magazine, and Texoma Living Magazine.

After her career in the Navy, Diana dove into her passion — writing romance novels. With 34 moves behind her, she was anxious to create characters who reflected the amazing cultures and people she’s met throughout the world. After the release of the bestselling MacGruder Brothers series, The Oath Trilogy, and the first four book of The Forbidden Series, she’s now working on book #5, Forbidden Realm, of the five-book series, which will be released April 14, 2020.

Diana looks forward to the years of writing ahead and meeting the amazing people who will share this journey.

Contest

***ONE winner will be drawn from everyone who posts on my guest blog visit about, ‘Inspiration From Nature,’ on Delilah’s blog between 14th February 2020 – 23rd February 2020. The winner will receive a signed copy of His Woman, book #2 in the bestselling MacGruder Brothers Series.

Diana Cosby, International Best-Selling Author
www.dianacosby.com
MacGruder Brother Series
The Oath Trilogy
Forbidden Series: Forbidden Legacy/Forbidden Knight/Forbidden Vow/Forbidden Alliance/ Forbidden Realm‒14th April 2020

Reminder! Enter to win these open contests while you can!

1. My New Hell — Office Chaos (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
2. Puzzle-Contest & 2 Reminders! — Win an Amazon gift card!
3. Scavenger Hunt! — Win an Amazon gift card!

Valentine Puzzle!

Thank you, Delilah, for hosting me on your blog today. I’m very excited to be here.

One question I get asked a lot is how I come up with my story ideas. Some are based on experiences, things I see or read, and some are based on my family.

I was so excited when my first book was published. I had worked hard on it with my editor. It was a very proud moment when I saw it on Amazon. It was a time travel romance with a handsome druid knight and modern history professor. Everyone loved the book except one reviewer. I read and re-read the critique and finally realized only a small part of the review was about the story, the rest was a personal attack. Devastated, I spoke to a good friend. A day later I had an email from a very well-published author who talked to me about reviews.

How did I turn that into a story? I used some of that review in the opening to my book Happily Ever After. Well-published author Beth Alexander has fallen off all the list and blames it on a bad review that has gone viral and the new author JD Watson, who has replaced her. She has no idea JD is the man romance covers are made of. He may have been the cause of her fall from literary stardom but only until he became her salvation!

One of my stories is about my brother and his wife. They had been married for ten years when they discovered their marriage had never been registered. Their second wedding was wonderful, but it got me thinking about what I could do with that storyline. You can find Alan and Eloise’s story—yes, I used their real first names—in How to Marry a Stuart Brother.

My most recent story, Heart of the Matter, also comes from a family incident. My mother left me her small bible that was handed down in the family. It had a beautiful mother of pearl cover. I was looking through it and found a letter. It was addressed to my mother but wasn’t in my father’s distinctive handwriting.

This was a story begging to be written. This is truly a love story that just in time for Valentine’s Day.

Heart of the Matter

Digging into the past can be murder…

Addison Moore, a well-known psychiatrist, is having difficulty coming to terms with the death of her grandmother Cookie. The woman was everything to her after her parents died in the plane crash over Lockerbie, Scotland. Little did Addy know that an old picture, tucked away in the family bible of Cookie with a handsome stranger would lead her to a discovery for which she is little prepared.

Ethan Taylor is an art historian. He’s lived with his Great Uncle Ben for a long time and would do anything for him. He never anticipated that Ben’s dying wish would introduce him to Ben’s biggest sacrifice.

Neither Addy nor Ethan are prepared for the lengths at which their families went through to keep Cookie and Ben apart. As they try to put the pieces together, they uncover a decade’s old unsolved murder implicating Cookie and Ben. Will Addy and Ethan’s blossoming love be able to stand the strain of finding the truth? Will they be able to overcome their own matters of the heart?

Excerpt from Heart of the Matter

Havenport, Rhode Island
September, 2019

The dull thud of earth hitting the casket again and again tore at Addy’s heart. Generations of Foxes filled the small family cemetery. Some died well into their old age while others died much before they ever lived, the youngest only nineteen days. Addison Moore looked out over the low wall surrounding the family graves, past the cliff, to the ocean beyond. The beauty of the day and the sailboats gliding across the water was lost on her. Addy gaped at the shovel in her hand then the half-covered casket. A movement to her right made her turn. She faced a lone man standing across the grave, bowed in reverence. She didn’t want to interrupt but couldn’t pull her gaze away. He straightened, raised his head, and she stared into the most compelling gray eyes she’d ever seen. The mingled expression of eagerness and tenderness momentarily blurred her pain, but nothing could ease her grief. Her chest tightened. She struggled for breath against lungs unwilling to operate. Beads of sweat dampened her forehead. Her pounding heart echoed in her ears. Again, she tried to take a breath. Nothing.

“Stay calm. Open your mouth,” the man demanded.

But nothing went in or came out. Breathe, damn it! The silent scream echoed in her head. Her lungs burned for air.

Her eyes flew open. Her breath stuttered. One gasp followed another. Addy gaped at the book in her hand, not quite comprehending what she held. A quick glance at the room and the cobwebs cleared. She was alone. Her body sank deeper into the overstuffed chair. Her tension eased. She took a calming breath and let the life-giving air fill her lungs. Home. Her panic subsided and details of the library came into view. The safety of her family’s old Victorian house, Fox Hole Manor, held her close.

The memory faded until it became a lost dream. Only fragments of the disconnected emotional panic permeated her psyche. She rose and put the psychology book, The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg, in one of the many boxes scattered around the room. The bookcase with several empty shelves stared back at her like a boxer’s smile with several missing teeth. She made progress, slow, but progress nonetheless.

The hint of ginger floating on the dusty air made her turn toward the hall. A smile spread across her face. Her grandmother. Many people would expect a robust woman with gray hair, and perhaps an apron and the aroma of freshly baked apple pie coming from the kitchen. Not Addy’s grandmother, who stood tall, sleek, a well-dressed woman with short light auburn hair streaked with silver, and sporting only a touch of make-up.

“Make sure the shelves are dusted and the floor swept. I don’t want the historical society to think I didn’t keep a clean house. Besides, you never know when company may arrive.”

Everything had a place in Cookie’s house, including the twist ties lined up in the kitchen drawer. The woman kept every book, note, piece of paper, everything. Cookie considered herself organized, not compulsive. More often than not, their ongoing discussion, with examples, brought them both to tears.

Fox Hole Manor was one of the oldest homes on Manor Road, an area where the old guard lived in their grand mansions, an extension of the magnificent estates across the causeway in Newport. The children of each generation found a closeness and a tie that lasted a lifetime. They were civic-minded and politically active, with Havenport at the heart and soul of it all.

All those years ago, Edythe Emerson, of the annual Halloween Masquerade Ball fame, and Cookie rallied the other residents on Manor Road and established the Manor Road Christmas Cookie Exchange. One hundred percent of the proceeds went to the Havenport Historical Society.

Nothing was done small on Manor Road, not even the annual Christmas Cookie Exchange. Cookie and Edythe decided on the themes for their houses and each year added touches and refined the décor. The Emersons decided on an elegant Victorian Christmas. Her grandmother branded her event Cups and Cookies at Cookie’s, which brought peals of laughter from everyone. Her grandmother put her heart and soul into decorating the house and handled this event with the same attention. Each meticulously decorated room on the tour represented a different faith’s winter celebration.

Hot chocolate with a dash of cinnamon and pungent ginger cookies greeted each visitor entering the Garden Room. The cups and cookies were always arranged on the table with precision. Yes. Everything had its place. No one would ever accuse her grandmother of a messy house.

The outside of the house, with its welcoming front porch and strategically placed flowerpots in place of railings, was just as important to Cookie as the inside and made Fox Hole Manor at Christmas a mecca for tourists. A must-see stop during the holidays. People came to watch the live deer that magically stayed on the lawn, the 1936 red Cadillac convertible filled with wrapped gifts parked outside the front door in the circular drive, and hear holiday music playing from strategically hidden speakers.

“I’ll make sure everything is neat and clean,” Addy said. “Is there anything else?”

“Concerning yesterday,” Cookie said.

She gave her grandmother a withering glance.

“There’s a finality in shoveling dirt onto the casket. The task takes a lot of love. I’m proud of you. All-in-all, the funeral was well-attended.”

Addy shuddered and searched for her cup of tea without success. “Please find another topic. This one creeps me out.”

Cookie raised a finely shaped eyebrow. “Should we discuss you finding a husband?”

Addy’s eyes welled up.

“So you made a bad choice. Live and learn. I think you should have waited. Neither of you knew each other very long.”

“We lived together for two years. I thought we knew each other very well.”

Another of Cookie’s stares meant to intimidate almost comforted her.

“You came to your senses before the wedding.”

Addie came to her senses a year ago. Her grandmother had it right, as usual. Don’t settle. Wait for the right man.

“It’s time for you to move on. Find your destiny.” Cookie leaned against the door frame. “What’s-his-name was an okay guy. I even liked him until you rushed here and cried in my arms. Afterwards, I pretty much hated him. Has he stopped calling you?”

“Yes,” Addy lied.

Cookie gave her a stink eye.

“Why the evil eye?” she asked, sounding like a high school teenager.

“You are aware Kenneth doesn’t believe the two of you are over. He doesn’t think sleeping with his secretary for the last year of your relationship has anything to do with you. The very obtuse boy thinks you have cold feet, not a cold heart, and doesn’t believe you’ll ever find a better man than him.” Her grandmother’s voice was quiet, but deadly. “I’m holding you to your promise. You’ll wait for the right man. Are you listening to me? Not just any man, not an okay man. The right man. Your destiny.”

Addy nodded. The words were etched in her brain, Cookie said them so often, even well before Kenneth Kendall made it into her diary.

“Was Grandpa Sky the right man?” She could play the deflect game, too.

Cookie smiled one of those wistful smiles loaded with silent meaning, said nothing and headed down the hall.

Addy followed, intent on getting an answer. She entered the kitchen. Empty. Her heart sank. Last Friday’s paper sat on the table next to her cold half-empty cup of tea.

“This is the story of Dr. Jessica Fox Jordan. Jessica was a wonderful woman who was loved, is missed, and will always be cherished. Called “Cookie,” by her only granddaughter, Addison Moore and a privileged few close friends, “Honey,” by her husband Skylar, and Jessie to everyone else, was an amazing wife, mother, grandmother, psychiatrist, and baker of the most amazing cookies. No one could bake a better ginger cookie than Jessica. Attendance at Fox Hole Manor for the Manor Road Christmas Cookie Exchange proves my point. Jessica Fox Jordan was the only child of Madison and Mildred Fox. Madison Fox was the colorful and flamboyant founder of the privately-owned Fox Brewery. Jessica is predeceased by her husband, Skylar; her daughter, Agatha Jordan Moore; and son-in-law, Phillip Moore. She is survived by her granddaughter, Addison Moore.”

The sense of loss hit her hard all over again.

“I miss you, Cookie.” A nervous laugh sounding more like a croak escaped her lips. “I’m not ready to let you go.”

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I love the fall. I don’t know why. It’s not that we have much fall weather here. And I prefer when the flowers are in full bloom and the extended daylight hours. I enjoy the warmth of the sun on my skin while walking in the park. In essence, I’m really a summer/spring girl, but I don’t dislike fall.

Fall is fun. With fall comes the warm tone colors of browns, golds, and oranges—all colors that I look fantastic wearing. Well, some browns and a few oranges, but that’s a story for a fashion post. I like to think of fall as the beginning of the festive season. Typically, spring is seen as the season of rebirth; it’s said that mother nature springs to life. (See what I did there?) But if one thinks about it, it’s the fall that things happen that people get moving. Fall is where everything starts booming and falls into place. (See, that I did it again?) Before anyone disagrees, think about it.

In the U.S., it kicks off with Labor Day—the official storage of white clothing. At least, traditionally, that was how it used to be prior to the invention of “winter white” and “I wear whatever the heck I want.” Kids go back to school with the latest uniform fashions. (Being a high school fashion icon is no longer what it used to be and slowly becoming a relic.) Television fall lineups premiere. Usually, there’s a string of fall festivals/Oktoberfests. Pumpkins start appearing and then transform into jack-o’-lanterns. (Does anyone used that term anymore?) Things start to get spooky with the anticipation of Halloween.

Actually, the spook factor is no longer a given with more and more people opting for cute and over-the-top sexy as opposed to ghoulish. People gorge themselves on chocolates and candies (not once or twice, but several times during this season). People get jovial with pranks and having someone make the hair stand on the back of their necks.

Then, there’s a shift towards focusing on family and togetherness and the commercialization of buying overpriced gifts that no one needs, and spirals buyers into debt. In the meantime and in-between time in the U.S., there’s a huge feast fest where no turkey is safe that mainstream media—but not the Board of Education—basically ignores. Dinner tables are stacked with Grandma’s sweet potato pie and Aunt Helen’s (everyone has an aunt Helen) stuffing.

On a side note, when I was in grade school, we got two days off for Thanksgiving—the holiday and a day of recovery from gluttony… Well, that and the fact many people traveled to see family. Nah, the teachers just wanted the day off. Now, kids get the full week and adults are promised earlier and earlier bird sales. What started as opening early at 7:00 AM or 6:00 AM long ago was scaled back to 5:00 AM, 4:00 AM, 3:00 AM, midnight, Thursday evening. Anymore and “Black Friday” will begin November 1. And let’s not forget: Cyber Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. At this point, it’s all ridiculous in my opinion.

But this joyful (for many) time is saturated with nostalgic movies, tall trees with branches sagging from ceramic ornaments, snowball fights (or so southerners are told), and more food (and weight gain). Good will becomes a theme, and red kettlebells can be heard ringing across cities. There are tree lightings and parties after parties. By now, people are calling it winter.

There’s lots of buildup, and before long, Christmas has come and gone. There isn’t much time to recuperate before people drink themselves into a new year with a hoard of self-promises (you know, a.k.a., resolutions) that they break within a month.

Lurking not too far around the corner is V-Day. (No, the other V-Day and not the one that happened on May 8, 1945.) I’m talking about the red heart, baby wears a diaper and shoots pink candy arrows at folks (allegedly). Yes, I’m speaking of Valentine’s Day, which leads us to the present. (Talk about a dissertation for an intro. I think I’ve outdone myself.)

I’ve always known Valentine’s Day to be a crazy bipolar type of day. By bipolar, I mean the mood of most people/shops are to the extreme. Either people love or loath this day. Some consider it one huge money grab, and from the way it is promoted, I honestly can’t disagree. Locally, schools and businesses have limited, restricted, or even barred deliveries on this day. I remember my school office looking like a funeral visitation for a dignitary. Balloons, flowers, and stuffed animals covered ever available surface space. My understanding is that the situation has grown worse, and on Valentine’s Day all deliveries are redirected to tables erected in the gym. Students are allowed to visit at lunch to see if they have a treat and only remove anything after the final bell. A teacher is posted throughout the day to monitor and guard deliveries. Reportedly, public schools have taken steps further and disallowed any school deliveries but allow the student council to sell Hershey’s Kisses and paper heart cutouts.

During my time (to make myself sound antiquated), this was a day of great distress. Students with overly indulgent parents, puppy love-stricken significant others, or birthdays close to that date would hit the jackpot. They would be loaded with so much loot that they had to make multiple trips to load all their goodies into their cars. Other students were left feeling unloved, forgotten, and abandoned as they received nothing. Most times, their feelings were unjustified. Flowers are expensive, and not all families could afford large bouquets, especially for parents with several children. And it wasn’t like today where one could make a run to Walmart or even the dollar store and purchase a bouquet for a couple of bucks. And other parents were clueless. (That would be me.) Who would think to send a kindergartener a dozen roses? Yes, parents did that. Talk about peer pressure at it’s finest. I felt horrible having not thought to send my five-year-old anything and having her see all the other kids with gifts. For what? She didn’t even like flowers. I took her for a Happy Meal that afternoon, but you best believe the next year I didn’t forget. But where I work, they make Valentine’s Day baskets filled with chips, a soft drink, and candy for a reasonable price.

But let me tell you what I think the ultimate Valentine’s Day gift is. It is showing kindness. It is being there for others. It is taking an extra step to make someone feel wanted and loved. And this isn’t something that is done one day of the year. It is something that is done throughout the year. It is an action that should be shown and expressed daily. Because one day, there will not be another Valentine’s Day.

Over the years, I’ve received Valentine’s Day gifts, and honestly, I don’t remember most. But I do remember the day when I was still in high school when thunderstorms cropped up without much warning. Either the meteorologist had missed it or it didn’t show up on his radar. That afternoon, it was pouring. Few people had come to school prepared. When I exited, I saw my father standing with an umbrella, waiting for me. Not only had he thought about me, he’d taken the time to act. That is something I’ve never forgotten. Now that he’s gone, it’s one of my most precious memories. And that day wasn’t Valentine’s Day.

So, the message is don’t look for love in one day. Don’t only store the sincerity of feelings in diamonds and flowers. Many people make wedding vows and exchange rings only to pawn them after a bitter divorce. Flowers die. Chocolates can grow stale and mold. But true love in action is trapped in our hearts and extends into eternity. Have a happy Valentine’s Day.

For more of how I write, my stories, and my shenanigans, giveaways, and more, check out my blog, Creole Bayou, www.genevivechambleeconnect.wordpress.com. And speaking of giveaways, I have one coming soon in celebration of my new steamy, sports romance, Ice Gladiators, guaranteed to melt the ice. It’s the third book in my Locker Room Love series. Ice Gladiators is being released February 15, 2020. Check her out. If you like makeup, you won’t want to miss this beauty of a prize.

Taz has problems: a stalled career, a coach threatening to destroy him, a meddling matchmaking roommate, and a thing for his other roommate’s boyfriend. The first three are manageable, but the last… well, that’s complicated. Because as much as Taz is attempting not to notice Liam, Liam is noticing him.

New posts are made on Wednesdays, and everything is raw and unscathed. Climb on in a pirogue and join me on the bayou. If you have any questions or suggestions about this post or any others, feel free to comment below or tweet me at @dolynesaidso. You also can follow me on Instagram at genevivechambleeauthor or search me on Goodreads or Amazon Authors.

Missed the two books in my sports romance series? No frets. Out of the Penalty Box, where it’s one minute in the box or a lifetime, out is available at https://amzn.to/2Bhnngw. It also can be ordered on iTunes, Nook, or Kobo. Visit www.books2read.com/penalty. Defending the Net can be ordered at www.books2read.com/defending. Crossing the line could cost the game.

Until next time, happy reading and much romance.