The Plots and Perils of Penning a Blog Post by Laura Hunsaker

 What do you call a writer without a computer? 

A doctor, call her a doctor because her hand has cramped from writing longhand for the past few weeks.

A couple of weeks ago, I had finished my writing for the night and was putting my laptop on the charger... When my charger popped, caught fire, and smoldered out before I could even fall out of bed to grab the fire extinguisher (married to a firefighter, we do have one in my bathroom). So, that whole thing was very scary. My room smelled like smoke for a while, the dog was not happy, it was a whole thing.

That being said, my poor old 10 year old Chromebook was held together with a binder clip, and hadn't accepted updates in at least 3 years, and now the charger had caught fire...I figured it was time for a new one. Do you know how hard it is to be a writer when your laptop is dead and you don't have a charger? It's awkward to write on your phone, to say the least. In the meantime, I did order a new charger, but I was looking for a new computer off and on. I have to say, it's overwhelming when you really love a Chromebook but all of your writer friends are telling you to get a grown up computer.

Binder clip literally holding the computer together.

I think I found some great deals, but nothing really fit what I wanted. I do eventually want a different set-up, but I don't have the luxury of writing full time so I need something fast and that fits my needs now. So I kind of stalled. Besides, the new charger came and I was back in business...sort of. It was still slow and out of date. Even Google Docs would remind me of that with a big banner telling me every time I opened up my manuscripts.

And I was surprised with a beautiful, slim, streamlined, brand new Chromebook! 

New, slim, pretty Chromebook with Smart Girls up, because of course ;)

My husband and children picked one out for me, and can I tell you, as I type on it, this baby is the nicest thing ever! It's exactly what I like, so I'll probably still look for something else, but in I'm not in any hurry to do so, and in the meantime I have what I love, and the coolest thing is that I can use the other one when editing so I can have two screens up! I mean it's not perfect, but it's what I like, so I'm happy.

And there's one really cool thing I get to do, and that's order new stickers since this one doesn't have any! Woohoo!

And since I've got a week off work,  and a new Chromebook, I'm going to finish edits for Dreams of the Future for you all, and if you sign up for my newsletter, you'll get it for free! 

Newsletter sign up link

Kate Landry is soon to be Kate Donovan, if only the groom would show up.

Maid of honor Cara Nguyen wants everything to go smoothly for her best friend's wedding, yet almost immediately, the wedding turns into a fiasco. Kate and Kyle deserve to have the wedding of their dreams, and Cara wants to make it happen. It’s hard to do when the flowers are delivered to the wrong location, the groom is missing, and the lovely sunny day has become a sweltering hot mess. She definitely doesn’t have time to get distracted by a sexy groomsman in a kilt.

Kyle Donovan is ready to marry the love of his life, but first he has to help some stranded guests…

Dash Helms is in the small town of Chester, California for his friend Kyle’s wedding, when he is immediately tasked to help. A caravan of wedding guests break down on their way to the venue, one of the groomsmen misses his flight, and the beautiful maid of honor is the only thing he can concentrate on. When Dash is asked to step in at the last minute as a replacement groomsman, of course he says yes. But the striking brunette he’s walking down the aisle wants nothing to do with him. 

With everything seeming to go wrong, what can go right?

In this wedding short story written for Kate and Kyle from Dark Past, the cast of the Fatal Instincts series comes together to celebrate their friends. With everyone in the same place at once, and romance in the air, can this small town handle them?

MARCH - Women's History Month

                                                          by Judy Ann Davis

Every year, March is designated Women’s History Month by presidential proclamation. The month is set aside to honor women’s contributions in American history.

Women’s History Month began as a local celebration in Santa Rosa, California.

One of Ours

In 1978, The California Education Task Force of the Sonoma County     Commission on the Status of Women planned and executed a “Women’s History Week” celebration. The organizers selected the week of March 8 to correspond with International Women’s Day, and the movement spread across the country to other communities.

In 1980, the National Women’s History Project, a consortium of women’s groups  and historians, which is now the National Women's History Alliance, lobbied for national recognition. In February 1980, President Jimmy Carter issued the first Presidential Proclamation declaring the Week of March 8th 1980 as National Women’s History Week. In 1987, Congress passed Public Law 100-9, designating March as “Women’s History Month.”

The month-long event was created to shine the spotlight on the many women who have selflessly given of themselves to improve the lives of their families, communities, and the world-at-large in all areas.

Obviously, women writers of yesteryear come to mind who have led the way for female writers today. There are many who came before us. Six of my favorite writers both novelists and poets are: Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice; Willa Cather, One of Ours; Alice Munro, Dear Life; Louisa May Alcott, Little Women; Emily Dickinson, Hope is the Thing with Feathers; Elizabeth Barrett Browning, How Do I Love Thee?

I have a copy of  How Do I Love Thee on my living room wall. It was artfully crafted, starting outward in a circle and spiraling round and round, ending in the center. It is still my very favorite of all poems.

          How Do I Love Thee?

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Who do you think has helped shape women writers of today? Who do you admire? I’d love to hear your thoughts. 

                Join me on my Amazon Author Page to see all my various works:

Judy Ann Davis

 

CRAZY LIFE!

By Caroline Clemmons

Non-writer friends often ask me how I think up all the stuff in my books. What really happens is our crazy brains conjure all these characters and situations. That doesn’t mean it’s easy. And we’re not really insane, either. Well, most of us aren’t. I’m not naming names, but there are a few people on my Probably Certifiable List.

And there are those (lazy?) people who say, “I’ll feed you ideas, you write the book, and we’ll split the royalties.” Uh, no. Not happening. The idea is the easy part. In fact, I have more than I can list. Writing a cohesive book with a credible story line is the hard part.

Then comes the hard part. Some parts of writing become easier with each book. One part that does not is making basic plots fresh, giving a tried and true idea a new twist. People argue over how many basic plots there are. The number varies from nine to twenty-seven. Supposedly, any book is a variation of one of those basic plots. And the more books and author has written, the harder that new variation becomes. Yeah, bummer.

How to make feisty, spunky heroines differ from those in past books? How different is one handsome cowboy from another?  How many ways can Tab A insert into Slot B? You get the idea, right?

Hero and I used to joke about a favorite author who repeated her basic plots. We would say, “This one is plot A.” Or plot B. The city and names varied, but little else. At the time, we had no notion of the difficulty of a fresh plot. And , hey, she sold a gazillion books and still sells even though she’s passed away. Not bad, right?

The main problem I encounter is that life keeps slapping me upside the head. Literally, if you count the last fall I had. You know the usual: dental appointments, doctor visits (or your prescriptions won’t be refilled), and all the errands necessary to function. Plus, the complex world we’re in with this pandemic forcing changes in our behavior.

Many people think that if you work from home, you can stop and do this or that because, after all, you don’t have a “real” job. Sigh. This is why Debbie Macomber said she decided to have an office away from her home, by the way. If we stop writing, we lose our concentration, our “groove”, and have to reread the last portion we wrote to bet back into the zone.  Fortunately, Hero understands this.

I try to vary settings and events so that my books appear fresh, even though they are always in my style and voice. With the exception of one novella set in Georgia, they’re always set primarily in the West and they always end happily. They’re the same, but different. Each main character has a journey, both external and internal. The same, but different.

I’m sure you’ve heard that writers are either writing or thinking about writing. It’s true. We can’t help ourselves.  For the next few days, I’m thinking about writing. And decorating for Christmas. Have you put up your tree yet?  

Speaking of plots (sneaky segue), I have a book release coming soon and hope you have preordered my upcoming book, MEG, Angel Creek Christmas Brides book 20, releasing December 18. You can get it here: https://mybook.to/McClain

Be safe, be happy, keep reading!

What Is Your Reading or Writing Weather?

The weatherman forecasted ice and lots of it for days ahead of the ice storm here in Dallas.

My first thoughts: No problem, I have a computer and I'll spend the weekend inside starting my next WIP. Right?

Wrong!

After spending several days inside hibernating with the family during our ice storm this weekend in Dallas, I have exactly one paragraph written.
I can't focus on anything but what's in the kitchen! I've raided the fridge and everything else in sight.
Grateful that we managed to keep electricity, I surfed the web, played on Facebook and even wore out the Lifetime channel, but nothing provided inspiration.

So, I picked up my iPad and finished Fling, an anthology that I'd started earlier in the week. It's a great read and I highly recommend it. I found it inspiring for my current WIP.

Disappointed that I had valuable time to write and couldn't make good on my commitment, the question arises as to what exactly is your Reading or Writing weather.

Is it snowed in like we are right now? Trapped, with the knowledge that life outside has come to almost a complete pause?

Or, are you the kind like me apparently, that needs movement to energize your brain?

I suddenly realized that my brain shut down with the rest of the world. Lacked inspiration! Lacked mobility.

When I retreat to my writing cave, the window by my desk still satisfies my need to see movement with the neighbors coming and going or the school children passing by. That's subconscious movement.

When I write outdoors on the patio, the waterfall is so soothing, but 23 degrees is too cold to sit outside, even with a fire in the chiminea. I tried, but I couldn't hang!

Where do you enjoy reading and writing? Does the change in weather bring you inspiration or bog you down like me?

I'm grateful for the time with the family and even had a good time laughing at them with their attempt at TUBBING.
Nope, that is not a typo. Our kids were actually using a storage tub to ride behind the truck. I clearly have to say, DON'T try this at home.

Here's the video of them acting like idiots. Seems that I'm not the only one that is house crazy. No, I didn't try it.

 

 

I hope that you and your family are warm and dry during this winter blast and that the time indoors has been good for you, whether that be spending precious time with family, reading, writing, knitting or catching up on your long winter's nap!

 

Thank you for stopping by and reading my ramblings!

 

Until next time, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

 

 

Hugs,

 

DeLaine

 



 

DeLaine Roberts

Find me at:

www.facebook.com/delaine.robertsauthor

Twitter: @delaineroberts

 

Back to School - by Tessa Gray

Back to School . . . by Tessa Gray

         As I watch our neighborhood children board the narrow steps of the yellow school buses, I must confess that I’m almost envious . . . almost. This past week I assigned my college students an essay called “Remembering an Event.” The young men and women in my English class approached the assignment with some degree of trepidation. As we discussed potential scenarios for their papers, many of them began reminiscing about their school experiences.

          School memories are often instrumental in shaping us, molding us into the  adults we become. They’re the memories we often share at high school or family reunions. As we look back on our school memories, we often yearn to have “do-overs” – to be able to right a wrong that’s been done to us or confront someone who bullied us. Most of us won’t ever have the opportunity to “get back” at someone who embarrassed or humiliated us. I was fortunate enough to have that magic moment presented to me on a silver platter. And now . . . allow me to share my very own “payback is a bitch” moment.

          Flashback to 1966 . . . I’m strolling down the hall of my Minnesota high school (which shall remain nameless). Spring is in the air and the lush trees outside had begun budding after a grueling winter. Donning my adorable “A-line” skirt, my white tennis shoes and cream colored “wigwam” socks, I’ve feeling pretty good about myself. As I rush to my fifth period class, a loud voice roars through the narrow halls, interrupting my train of thought.

          “Hey, Tessa-wanna go to the prom with me?”

          I whirl around and who do I see but a short kid I’ve known since grade school; the shy, preacher’s kid I’d probably engaged in conversation with four times during our entire school careers. I’m certain I gave this guy, we’ll call him Dexter, a rather furtive glance as I pretended to mull over my decision.

          “Yeah, sure, I guess.”

          The look of relief on this guy’s face was comical. Pulling himself up to his full five foot, four inches, he threw back his head and breathed an enormous sigh of relief. I often think of that Clint Eastwood phrase, ‘Go ahead, make my day’ when I recall how pleased Dexter appeared to be I’d accepted his invitation. I quickly began planning which of my girlfriends to tell first. Truth be told, I was more excited about attending the prom than I was having a date with Dexter.

          “Thanks for going to prom with me. We’re going with Barb and Gary.” If only Dexter has simply left it at that-had not felt compelled to be so brutally honest. But he didn’t. As he blurted out the rest of his words, my ego plummeted.  “Thank God you agreed to go with me. You’re like the fiftieth girl I’ve asked.”

          Way to turn a girl’s head.

          Too humiliated to continue our conversation, I slithered through the halls to my history class, already regretting my decision.

          Flash ahead to 2006-my 40^th high school reunion.

          As my husband, Jim, and I sat at a table filled with the reunion attendees in a ballroom of the Crowne Plaza Hotel, I quickly scanned the group, noting several familiar faces. At that round table, in the nine o’clock position if you’re describing the hands of a clock, sits my prom date, Dexter, and his lovely wife. Now, I realize many would have taken the high road, resisting the urge to remind Dexter about his comment from forty years ago. Unfortunately, I’m not one of those people. Dr. Phil would no doubt call me a “right fighter.”

           Within the first three minutes of our conversation, I set the record straight. Like most men, Dexter refused to believe he could possibly have made such a remark. His wife, fortunately, was well aware that her husband didn’t have much of a filter. As Dexter gasped and chortled, trying desperately to deny his embarrassing behavior as a teen, his wife quickly set the record straight. Leaning over, she stared at me intently, her dark eyes boring through mine. “I totally believe you,” she replied. “That’s so something Dex would do.”

          Of course, all was forgiven. But a word to the wise might be in order here. Guys…if you ‘dis a woman and behave poorly, just know this: We never, ever forget.  And while we women have long since finished our schooling, those of us who write might just put you in our next book. So…watch your back.

   

                   

byb

CONFERENCE FUN!

By Geri Foster

This year I went to the Romantic Times Conference and RomCon for the sole purpose of meeting and engaging with readers of Romance. I had a wonderful time and met many delightful people while at these two conferences. I also had the privilege to meet several of my favorite writers and became a fan to some I’d never read before.

Happy reader

The whole experience was career changing. I returned home determined to write more stories, have deeper plots and develop compelling characters if it killed me. I wanted to be better for those wonderful readers I’d met, and I wanted to be equal to the outstanding writers I’d came in contact with.

That’s true inspiration.

As writers we’re often alone in a dark room in the middle of the night pounding on our computers. We rarely see the end result of our hard work except when we receive payment for books bought. That’s a very cold way of doing business. Yet we don’t own shops where customers come in and browse and we get to know them in the process. With no face to face contact we have no idea what a reader really wants from a writer.  We only have a paycheck and reviews to gauge our success. With only a few tools to work with, we write hoping our readers will like what we’ve spent months writing. If they do, and they let us know, we’re thrilled. If they aren’t happy with our story, we languish for days on how to get better at our craft.

Inspired writer

I think the way to write the stories readers will love is to love what you write.

I pour my heart and soul into my stories. I don’t hold anything back for the next story. The book I’m working on is where all my love, energy, and brain power goes. I dig deep to find everything there is to know about my characters. I push to make my stories as exciting and emotional as possible. When I write the end… it truly is the end for me. I’m exhausted and thrilled, but I also know I gave that book every ounce of blood I had in my body.

Do I love it? You bet I do. It’s the reason I get up every day and come to this computer and work long hours for my readers. I want them to know when they pick up one of my books they’re in for a memorable experience.

Read On!

Geri Foster always loves to hear from her readers and other writers. You may contact her at the links below.

www.gerifoster.com

Gerilfoster1@facebook.com

Gerifoster@twitter.com

   

Have Story, Will Write

by Ellie James

A funny thing happened last fall…

It all seemed so benign. After twenty-five years working in the corporate world, in a corporate office, my husband decided to go out on his own and build his own business. He was excited. I was excited. It was a huge change in every way imaginable.  At the time, the fact he’d now be working from home didn’t seem like any big deal. Okay, maybe kind of a big deal, since that meant both of us would be working from home, but of all the uncertainties, having him setting up shop from the upstairs of our house seemed like the least of our worries; I mean, we already had a home office set up, right?

Way back when, before our children were born, we moved into our current house and furnished one room as an office. My office. I was writing for Silhouette Intimate Moments back then, and took great relish in decorating my new writing space. It’s a lovely room upstairs, with a big east facing window. Initially, I had my workspace situated so that my back was to the door, but quickly discovered that I HATED that alignment. It just never felt comfortable, kinda like I never feel comfortable in a restaurant if I’m not sitting with my back to a wall. (Kinda thinking maybe in a former life I was a warrior who met a grim fate through a sneak-attack from behind!) Anyway, I have to have my back to the wall—and I really, really prefer a neat and tidy workspace: for me, clutter in my office= clutter in my mind.  However, with young kids…well, that’s another story for another day.

When planning my workspace, I consulted Feng Shui for paint color and ended up with a blue-green that is supposed to stimulate creativity. I also have an entire wall dedicated to inspirational sayings, such as Shoot for the Moon. Even if you miss you’ll land among the stars and Don’t believe everything you think!, as well as a display of my books.

And of course, there were all the fun knick-knacks, such as the necklace on the cover of my YA novels and a replica of the Flat Iron building in NYC, where my publisher is located!!!

  

So…we had this great office, right? It only made sense that my husband set up shop there. And that’s where the funny (actually, not funny at all) thing happened. Once he moved in, I had no choice but to move out. Oh, I tried. I tried to work with him in the room. But we listen to different music, and he’s on the phone. A lot. And when he’s on the phone, his voice is louder than it is when he’s just talking to me. Heck, he even breathes differently than I do!  And before I knew it, my muse had headed for the hills. Realizing I needed my own personal environment to write, I set out to stake claim on some other space in the house.

At first I tried the family room. I mean, there was this nice little secretary desk there, just perfect for my laptop. And while the kids were gone, the room would be nice and empty and quiet. So there I went. You see?

  

Here I embarked upon my new YA proposal. Weeks went by. A few more. Then a few more. September turned into November, and I should have had my proposal ready for my editor. But I didn’t. The words weren’t flowing. I found myself writing and rewriting, not at all happy with what I was producing. I did a lot of staring. And a lot of angsting. It took a while, but finally I realized it was the space. I couldn’t work in that space. It was the family room, for goodness sake. Where I relaxed and watched TV. For some reason (or maybe those reasons) I simply couldn’t gather myself to work there. Upon reflection, I see another problem, too. See the set up of the laptop and chair?  Yep. Had my back to the rest of the house, a position I’d already learned didn’t work for me.

So…I went in search of another space, landing in the brightest space of the house, the kitchen. There I had sunshine and a workspace in the table, and I could sit with my back to the window, giving me a full view of the house. Shoulda been perfect, right?  Well, there was another problem….

That’s Marie, and she was relentless. Sure, I could lock her in another room, and trust me, I did. But my muse still didn’t come back.(Maybe the stacks of dirty dishes were too distracting?)  Christmas came and went. It was January, and my ever-patient editor was tapping her foot. So…I set off again, still searching. A bedroom wasn’t going to work, I already knew that. And while my awesome neighbor volunteered her house, I wanted to find somewhere in my own house, you know?

Finally I found myself in a small nook off our living room, where we’ve got this big brown comfy chair and a lot of books. In the past, it’s where I would go to read, but, out of options, I decided to give it a try.

You can see it wasn’t really conducive to a laptop, so I went old-fashioned, reverting to yellow tablets and a mechanical pencil, a technique which had worked to lure my muse back before.

  

And….it happened. Finally. She came back. My muse. She settled back into place like a warm, familiar blanket, and the words once again begin to flow. Rapidly. And beautifully. And I realized I'd finally found my new workspace. I also realized just how important finding the perfect space really is (which is probably why setting up shop for a few hours in the library never worked for me.) Not just any room will do. Not just any desk. Not just any laptop.

Like the princess and the pea, it seems, my muse prefers that everything be just...right. :)

WRITERS USE UNIVERSAL TRUTHS TO ENTERTAIN READERS

Congratulations once again to Margay on her win of the Kindle Fire HD Tablet!

As the title suggests, writers use universal truths to create stories that (we hope) entertain smart readers. True, most of our stories hold moral lessons. We champion the good in men and women, and punish the shallow and senseless. Not that the lessons can be obvious. Nope, we hope to sneak them in when readers are concentrating on the characters and plot. ☺

While I try to vary plots with each book, my books have several common themes: redemption, good defeats evil, love overcomes obstacles, and characters achieve personal fulfillment. But I don’t want readers to dwell on them, other than to sigh with relief when love conquers all, the broken heart is healed, the hardened heart cracks and welcomes love, characters achieve fulfillment, and those obstacles blocking characters’ happiness have been defeated. What I desire is that readers fall in love with my characters and think of them as real people, as they are in my mind, and want to read my next book. Nothing makes an author happier.  

Currently, I’m writing the third book in the western historcial romance Kincaid series featuring Storm Kincaid for release in September. I plan a fourth for next winter featuring Gabe Kincaid. Delving back into the Kincaid family is a joy and set me reminiscing about the two earlier books of the series THE MOST UNSUITABLE WIFE and THE MOST UNSUITABLE HUSBAND. Each dealt with good triumphing over evil. Often evil doers believe themselves above the law and unconquerable. In my books, those people are always caught...eventually. I wish that were always true in life, but it sometimes happens. Let’s go with that, shall we?

THE MOST UNSUITABLE WIFE is about a marriage of convenience that blossoms into a true love match. I enjoy putting unlikely people together in an intimate situation that requires them to adapt and broaden their ideas. Do you enjoy reading that type book? 

Don't say it can't happen. An older couple in the church to which I belong married after five days, and that was almost sixty years ago. Think it will last? And my favorite high school English teacher knew her husband only four days before they married. Last I heard, they'd been together 35 years. I'm not recommending hasty unions to anyone! Not a sound idea, but there are exceptions to every rule. 

The idea for this book came from a tiny kernel in the form of a story my grandmother once told me about a girl in her hometown who quit school because of all the rumors and teasing she was forced to endure. Although my grandmother didn’t know what happened to the girl, I wanted the poor girl’s story to end well. Each of us deserves happily ever after, right?

If you’ve ever lived in a small town, you know there are no secrets. Sometimes a person with evil in his heart forgets that fact and does terrible things to conceal a fact everyone already knows. 

Here’s the blurb from THE MOST UNSUITABLE WIFE:

Wanted: one completely improper bride.

Even if Drake Kincaid had placed such an advertisement in every paper in the country, he couldn’t have found a better candidate than Pearl Parker...which is fine with him. After all, his parents’ will stipulates only that he marry by his thirtieth birthday, not that he marry well. And no one--including Drake’s grandfather, the man determined to hold him to the ridiculous provision--could possibly think tall, bossy Pearl with her ragtag siblings and questionable “cousin” Belle will make a good wife. Until Drake realizes that in her startling violet eyes he sees a beautiful woman with a generous soul...

Their life together may not have started with hearts and flowers, but Drake and Pearl will soon learn that real love--with a breathtaking dose of passion--will make their marriage a true romance.

I'm considering changing the cover for this book.
Do you think I should? If so, what would you suggest?

Excerpt from THE MOST UNSUITABLE WIFE as Drake and Storm return from a cattle drove that took six weeks, to learn that Pearl hasn't sat patiently awaiting Drake's return::

  

On the road, he slowed his horse and tried to think. Storm had been right, Pearl apparently got fed up with Lily. Why hadn't he seen it?

Maybe he should have made different arrangements for her before the cattle drive. Damn, it looked like a man could depend on his wife waiting for him. All she had to do was just bide her time. How hard could that be?

When the ranch house came into view, he slowed even more. It looked different.

Storm saw it too. "Things been fixed up some."

Drake noted the gate now hung straight, bright flowers bordered the walk and porch. A bushy fern stood on the porch near the rocker he liked to use of a summer evening. He dropped the reins over the hitching post and bounded up the steps. The door opened before he could reach it.

"Señor Drake, how wonderful you are home.” Maria beamed her cheerful smile at him. "Señora Pearl will be so happy."

Inside the front door, Drake stopped in his tracks. Three people sat on a bench in the foyer, a bench that hadn't been there when he left. As he entered, they stood and nodded their heads in respect.

The eldest, a man he recognized as Vicente's father, spoke. "Welcome home, Señor Jefe, Chief. Your trip went well?"

"Yes, very well. Vicente brings our remuda and men back. He and the rest of the men will be home soon.” Feeling as if he overlooked an important factor here, he asked, "Is there something I can do for you?"

The three shook their heads in unison. "No, Señor Jefe. We wait for La Curandera."

Maria hastened forward. "Señora Pearl has helped so many with her medicines. People come from all over the county to see her. She lets them wait here until she can see them."

Storm said, "She likes to help people. Pearl's real good with her healing."

Close to snapping, Drake spoke slowly and clearly, "Maria, where is my wife?"

Surprise showed on the housekeeper's face. "Why, she is still in town at her restaurant, of course."

Hoping he hid his own surprise, he said, "I see.” But he certainly did not see. Not at all. What restaurant?

Still beaming at him, Maria continued, "At this time she's serving lunch to her customers. You can find her there, but she usually comes home about four with Señorita Sarah. Shall I find lunch for you and Señor Storm?"

"Yes, please.” Storm said.

"No.” Gesturing to his brother-in-law, he said, "You go ahead, Storm."

"Señor Storm, my Carlotta will find food for you if you will go into the kitchen. Or, you could come with us to see the changes in your home. Come, let me show you the many things Señora Pearl has done for you.” Maria tugged at his arm, leading him on a tour of his own home with Storm trailing along. "You see how she has used the pieces stored by your family to make this place welcome you. She has worked very hard.”

He took in the rugs on the floor, the additions to the furnishings. He noticed little things like the placement of serving pieces on the buffet that used to sit in his mother's dining room--until she hired that fancy decorator. Drake had always liked that old furniture better than the ornate stuff the decorator ordered from all over the world. He wandered through the house taking in the changes as Maria chattered on and on reciting Pearl's virtues.

In the door way of his study, he stopped dead in his tracks. The old rocking chair made from cattle horns stood waiting beside his desk. Though wood comprised the rockers and supported the thickly padded seat and back, a craftsman had used matched pairs of horns to form the legs, arms, splats, and a decorative fan across the top.

Maria smiled and patted his arm. "Ah, I knew that would please you."

"I thought Mother had it burned.” Although he and his father loved that chair and laughed about the eccentricity of it, his mother had called it an abomination and refused to have it in her house.

Maria adopted her inscrutable mask. "It is possible Miguel misunderstood her. He stored it in a barn with other old furniture and covered it with heavy cloth to protect it." She shook her head. "Then, it seems, he forgot about it. But Señora Pearl found it. Oh, she laughed and laughed when she saw it."

"She--she laughed?"

"Oh, sí, yes. She said it was perfect for a rancher's home. I told her how you used to sit in it when your feet were barely long enough to touch the floor, how you would laugh at your longhorn chair.”

Damn. Who would have figured her laughing? Just like he and his father had. Who could understand the woman?

Storm sat in the chair and gave a push to start it rocking. The boy had a silly grin on his face. With a shake of his head to clear his brain, Drake turned and left the room.

THE MOST UNSUITABLE WIFE is Book One of the Kincaids, and is available in print or ebook from Amazon

http://www.amazon.com/Most-Unsuitable-Wife-Kincaids-Book/dp/1478178817/ref=sr_1_9?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1372723547&sr=1-9&keywords=caroline+clemmons

Smashwords at

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/37683?ref=CarolineClemmons

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 Thanks for reading!