Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart and the senses.

- Lao Tzu

Common Elements Romance Project with Lainee Cole

The Write Way Café welcomes Lainee Cole, who has a wealth of creativity and a heart of gold.

(Ed. note: Thank you for your patience as we resolved issues with Chrome not allowing interactions with this page. We believe the issue has now been corrected.)

Tell us a little about Storms of the Heart.
Storms of the Heart is a sweet contemporary romance set in the fictional town of Twin Creeks, located in Southern Illinois. Emerson Lane and Justin “Max” Lomax learn that sometimes the hardest thing to do, and the right thing to do, are one and the same – especially when it comes to family dynamics.

Is this book tied to your shelter dog stories, previously published in the Captured by Christmas and At Midnight anthologies?
No, but Storms of the Heart does feature a loyal German Shepherd named Thor. He’s afraid of storms.

Who is your intended audience and why should they read Storms of the Heart?
I hope anyone who enjoys contemporary romance with just a hint of mystery will read it. Also, family and all that it encompasses is a large part of my life. In my stories, I try to show readers positive and supportive ways family members can be there for one another.

How did you become involved with the subject or theme of your book?
Following authors and writing groups on Facebook, I stumbled on The Common Elements Romance Project a little over a year ago. Over seventy romance authors came together to write stories with five elements in common. Everything else is up to the individual authors. The stories are not connected to each other or in the same “world,” so they can be read in any order. They might be short, epic, or in between. They run the gamut of romance sub-genres and heat levels, so there’s something for everyone. All stories for the project will be published between September 2019 and January 2020. Check out our website for more information – there are some fabulous books here!

Who is your favorite character from Storms of the Heart and why?
I know I should say my hero or heroine, right? But my favorite character is the housekeeper, Irene Beresford. She’s a spunky red-headed woman who revels in being herself, no matter what others might think. She’s been so much fun to write!

How about your least favorite character?  What makes them less appealing to you?
My least favorite character is Jameson Blackwell. He’s the mayor, and the town bully. Knowing there are actually people like him in the real world saddens me.

Tell us a little bit about your cover art. Who designed it? Why did you go with that particular image/artwork?
My cover was designed by Dar Albert from www.wickedsmartdesigns.com. I shared with her the five common elements for the Common Elements Romance Project: a lightning storm, lost keys, a haunted house (really haunted or rumored to be), a stack of thick books, and a person named Max. She did a great job working them all in to my cover!

Give us an interesting fun fact or a few about Storms of the Heart.
Let’s see… I’m always on the lookout for inspiration! Irene Beresford came to life for me last fall. On our way to the Black Hills of South Dakota, there was an exit sign for the towns of Irene and Beresford. The names just stuck with me, and I thought they would make a great character!

I love old houses with character and am intrigued by secret passages. It would be so cool to have one in my house! I Googled secret passages and hidden rooms, and found some great images. They meshed well with some of the ideas I had for this story.

If you had to choose, which writer would you consider a mentor?
No question about it. My friend and fellow author, Lynn Crandall has been instrumental in my writing career. She is brutally honest in a way that challenges me to expand the boundaries of my comfort zone, to see my words from a different perspective, and to push myself to be a better writer. Best of all, she believes in me when I doubt myself. Her words of understanding and encouragement are the boost I sometimes need!

Do you have any unique talents or hobbies?
My kids claim I make the best no-bake cookies. Does that count? 😊

Do you have any tips for readers or advice for other writers trying to get published?
For readers: Support your favorite authors by following them on social media. It’s fun to get to know them!

For writers: 1) Always be open to learning. I love learning how authors work. Everyone uses different methods – there is no right or wrong way. Anytime I hear of a new method, I note what I think will be helpful to me, and try to implement it when I can. I don’t yet have a set method. I’m still learning what works for me. And 2) Never give up! I’ve been writing since I was in grade school, and have wanted to be a romance author for many years. Now that my kids are grown and I am retired, I am finally realizing my dream!

What can readers who enjoy your book do to help make it successful?
If you enjoy my book, please leave a review on Amazon! It doesn’t have to be anything fancy – a simple “Enjoyed it!” will do. Reviews help get our books noticed and included in recommendations to other readers.

What can we expect from you in the future?
I have lots of ideas for future books! I have one completed manuscript that needs revisions, but a different manuscript that is barely started has been poking at me to come back to it. Either way, I plan to keep writing contemporary romances. If you'd like to keep up with what I'm doing, please follow me on Facebook!

After the perfect storm that devastated her family, Emerson Lane fled her uncle and the suffocating small town of Twin Creeks. Seven years later, she returns home to make amends with her uncle and help him with the town’s Centennial, only to learn doing so involves working with her former crush—Max.

Sheriff Justin “Max” Lomax has had enough of small-town life and his overbearing bully of a grandfather. He plans to resign and move to the big city as soon as the Centennial celebration is over. There’s only one problem. Emerson Lane has returned. Years ago, he felt sorry for the young girl who’d lost her family, but now she’s all grown up, and he’s tempted to explore new possibilities.

In the week before the Centennial, storms abound—both emotional and literal. As Emerson and Max unravel mysteries of the past, they just might find their future.

RELEASING JANUARY 2020 - Please follow my Facebook page for updates!


Lainee Cole is a Midwestern girl who writes in the company of a husband always trying to talk to her. Lainee’s goal is for her stories to make readers laugh and cry, give them hope, and encourage them to believe in the power of love. When she’s not writing or reading, Lainee enjoys spending time with family (especially her new grandbaby!) and friends; hiking, camping, and traveling with her husband; and consuming daily doses of chocolate.

Facebook Author Page      Facebook Personal Page      Twitter

Tuesday Special: The Last Humans

STEVEN M. MOORE

https://stevenmmoore.com

The apocalypse kills billions—numbers so large that most survivors’ minds snap shut. Foes of the US have attacked with a bioengineered contagion that spreads around the world. One of only a few survivors, Penny Castro, ex-USN diver and LA County Sheriff’s Deputy, reacts differently. She fights back and creates a life for herself where death is the common denominator. On a forensic dive, she is interrupted. When she surfaces, she finds all her colleagues dead, so she has to battle starvation, thirst, and gangs of feral humans until she ends up in a USAF refugee camp. A post-apocalyptic thriller for our times, Penny’s adventures will entertain and shock you into asking, “Could this really happen?”

Amazon


About Steven:  Born in California, Steven M. Moore is now a full-time writer of many thriller, mystery, and sci-fi novels, short fiction, blog articles, and book and movie reviews. His stories reflect his keen interest in the diversity of human nature that he has observed in his different abodes across the U.S. and in South America as well as in his Latin and European travels for work and pleasure. After spending more than two decades in scientific R&D in the Boston area, he and his wife now make their home just outside New York City, where he devotes most of his time to storytelling.  For more details, visit him at his website https://stevenmmoore.com. He can also be found on Facebook  and @StevenMMoore4.

Monday Morsels: Sinful Seduction

SINFUL SEDUCTION

by Jacqueline Seewald

New Jersey, 1776

AT FIRST, the trip to Princeton was not frightening. There were no armies of soldiers on the road. Yet the smell of fear was in the air. Anne McIntyre had been told the Continental Army was retreating across New Jersey with the British army in hot pursuit. The coach pressed on. She grimly kept her skinning knife at one side and the spare pistol at the other — just in case. Visions of red-coated soldiers pillaging and raping marched through her mind.

A few miles outside of Princeton, old Jacob sped up the coach. Anne could hear horses racing and drawing near. Soon there was the sound of voices yelling at Jacob to halt.

“Is it soldiers?” Delia Baincroft asked in a small, frightened voice that made her sound more childish than her sixteen years.

Anne turned her head toward the window at the rear of the coach and peered out. There were four armed men on horses chasing after them, but they were in civilian dress.

“It looks like highwaymen, although I cannot be certain.”

The coach could not outrun the men on horseback, and they were forced to pull over. Anne’s heartbeat increased as she gripped the pistol beside her.

“Where are you goin’, driver? And who are the folk within this fine coach?”

“Who wants to know?” she heard Jacob return sharply.

“Do not be rude to your betters, old man, or I’ll slice out your tongue.”

Fanny Baincroft slightly opened the coach door and peered her head outside. “Step away, man. My daughter is ill, and we are on our way to seek a physician.”

“Then surely you fine ladies have money with you to pay a fat fee. Get out of the coach and hand over your valuables.”

“How dare they!” Delia sputtered indignantly.

“Stand and deliver.”

There was the sound of a pistol fired and then another in exchange. Anne brushed past Fanny to see what was happening. Jacob had obviously tried to shoot one of the robbers, but his aim wasn’t good enough. The old man gasped, holding his chest where blood spurted forth. While the men had their eyes turned on Jacob, Anne took up her weapon and aimed it at the leader of the group.

“I’ll shoot you if you don’t get out of here,” she said, cocking the mechanism.

The highwayman laughed at her in a crude, menacing way. “And what does a young woman like yourself know of weapons?” He started moving toward her. “I think you need to be taught a lesson in how to yield right and proper.”

Anne let loose her shot and caught the man in the head. She saw the look of astonishment as he fell from his horse, blood trickling down his temple. She hoped that without a leader, the others would turn and ride away, but that was not the case. Three men charged toward her, and she could only think to remove her knife from its hide casing in readiness. She would not die without a fight.

But suddenly she heard a pistol discharging and then another. A tall man on a great horse dispersed the robbers, another of whom fell from his horse, bleeding profusely while the other two rode away.

“Are you all right?” The man’s black horse reared up.

Anne found herself trembling. She had been fine in the moment that required her greatest effort, but now she felt weak. It was as if her legs could no longer support her. Their savior seemed to sense this. He climbed down from the spirited stallion and put his arms around her, holding her close as if she were a child. Normally, she would have been shocked and offended by such behavior from a stranger, but these were not usual circumstances. She felt his gesture of comfort suffuse her flesh with an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation of warmth.

“They won’t be back,” he said reassuringly.

He ran his hands over her back and continued to press her close against the hard length of his masculine body. Her reaction to him was peculiar. She felt herself begin to tremble as if in the grip of a raging fever. It took all the strength she could summon to pull free of him.

Anne looked up into the handsomest face she had ever seen. The man removed his hat and bowed to her. His eyes were of a deep, dark blue, hair completely blond on top and sandy beneath. He was well-dressed in a great, black cape and fully armed with a sword and brace of pistols. When he returned his hat to his head, he cocked it jauntily like a military man.

Want to read more?

They met and loved passionately in a time of revolution.

Anne McIntyre, a schoolmistress in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey at the outset of the American Revolution, is serious-minded, intelligent, and patriotic. Anne supports her sister in her marital problems and helps the ironmaster’s widow manage a difficult situation with her daughter.

Peter Kensington should have been an earl, but thanks to the duplicity of his younger brother and his own reckless nature, he has ended up an officer in the colonial war. Spying is alien to his gentlemanly code. Yet he must do exactly that. Anne is suspicious of him from the first but as passionately attracted to him as he is to her.

Amazon         Barnes & Noble        Nook        Kobo 


📚  Find Jacqueline Seewald here:   Blog        Facebook  

Amazon author page        Twitter

You are confined only by the walls you build yourself.

- Andrew Murphy

Christmas Remembrances with Susanne Matthews

The Write Way Café welcomes Susanne Matthews, who shares memories of the magic of Christmas from days gone by.

Well, it’s December. For some, as the song says, “It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” while for others, it’s a time of sorrow and pain. This Christmas will be different from the others we’ve spent as a family. This past fall we lost not only two good friends, one who spent Christmas with us each year, but my father passed away. He lived a long, rich life, but that doesn’t make his passing any easier for us.

As I sit here, I reminisce about the Christmases of my youth, and dwell on the fond memories of days long gone. One of my memories focuses on my grandparent’s tree. My grandfather would go out to the bush and collect a pine tree, and then he would bring it home and spray paint it all white. To me, it was the most beautiful tree ever. If you look at the picture of my mother and I, taken in 1955, you’ll see the branches of the tree. Notice the tinsel? Each strand was lovingly placed by hand, and while the picture doesn’t show it, each light was shrouded in angel hair—raw fiberglass—to keep the heated bulbs from setting the tree on fire. How times have changed!

Other things I recall included the new pajamas to wear to bed on Christmas Eve, and the fact that bedtime came very late indeed since we attended Midnight Mass, and then went to my grandparent’s house for a Réveillon, the first of many feasts consumed over the holiday season. By the time we got to bed, it was well after two, and yet we were up before dawn and Santa had stopped by and filled our stockings with candies and treats, like an orange, an apple, a chocolate bar, and candy canes, as well as coloring pencils or crayons. Under the tree, there would be a new doll, a baby carriage, a storybook, a coloring book, a new snow shovel, and maybe a pair of skates. One year, I specifically recall an aluminum toboggan. My sister and I were the envy of every kid on the hill since our toboggan was so much lighter to carry back up the hill than their wooden ones.

When I decided to write His Christmas Family, I wanted to put into it some of the magic I remembered from that time—going tobogganing, taking a sleigh ride into the bush to pick out the perfect tree, making cookies, going to the Christmas fair—all the things that made the Christmases of my childhood special to me.

The other thing I remembered from that time was the way my mother and father put together baskets and delivered them just before Christmas. We weren’t rich, but Mom and Dad did what they could for those less fortunate than we were. That was the main inspiration for the book. Christmas isn’t about you or me. It’s about others; it’s about community. It’s about giving, not just receiving, and it’s about making memories. So while I will miss those who’ve gone, I take comfort in the memories that I have of wonderful Christmases past. Like Lee in the novel, I’ll never forget the ones who’ve gone, but I’ll rejoice in the ones still with me.

###

Since losing his wife, children, and parents six years ago to a drunk driver, Lee Ostler stopped celebrating the holidays, especially Christmas. But he isn’t a modern day Scrooge by any means. Because his parents would’ve wanted it, he does his duty by his employees at Ostler Construction, the Payton Falls community, and his sister and her family, but that’s it.

When Sonia has to leave the country for a few weeks before Christmas, she begs him to watch the twins for her. Even if it means, parades, pageants, and fairs, how can he refuse? But things get complicated when the twins accidentally injure one of his employees, who turns out to be the shy girl he admired years ago in high school.

Life has dealt Laurie Wilson a lot of blows, but this year, the widowed mother of four has hit rock bottom. How will she give her children a magical Christmas when the cupboard’s bare, her wallet’s empty, she can’t work, and may well lose the roof over their heads? She needs a miracle, and if he happens to be her boss and the former high school quarterback she was too terrified to even speak to back then, how can she say no?

Can Christmas magic bring two broken souls together?

His Christmas Family is available exclusively from all Amazon dealers and is free to read in Kindle Unlimited.

About Susanne:

Amazon bestselling author Susanne Matthews was born and raised in Cornwall, Ontario, Canada. She is of French-Canadian descent. She’s always been an avid reader of all types of books, but with a penchant for happily ever after romances. A retired educator, Susanne spends her time writing and creating adventures for her readers. She loves the ins and outs of romance, and the complex journey it takes to get from the first word to the last period of a novel. As she writes, her characters take on a life of their own, and she shares their fears and agonies on the road to self-discovery and love.

While most of her books are romantic suspense, Susanne writes stories that range from contemporary to supernatural and everything in between. She is a PAN member of the Romance Writers of America.

When she isn’t writing, she’s reading, or traveling to interesting places she can use as settings in her future books or as interesting entries for her blog, Living the Dream.

Follow Susanne on her:  Website     Facebook page    Twitter @jandsmatt
Amazon author page  and Goodreads author page

Tuesday Special: Weeping Women Springs

TAMARA EATON

https://tamaraeatonnovels.weebly.com

A magical Spring of Hope was their protection--or so they thought...

The tranquil little town of Hope Springs, New Mexico is shattered on December 7, 1941. All the village boys go to fight, leaving their families behind to pray for their safety. Their hope knows no boundaries the boys will return unharmed—for they have a secret. The Spring delivers hope to all who drink from it.

They’ve kept this secret for years, but all is lost when tragedy strikes. Their grief dilutes the magical waters. The wives, mothers, and sisters have no option but to face the loss on their own. They struggle to find hope again, while withdrawing further from the world. Yet another war looms on the horizon and even the measures they’ve taken cannot protect them.

An exploration of the various facets of sorrow and its effects, Weeping Women Springs is “like finding a scrapbook long hidden” of interviews, letters, journal entries and poems. The novel is “intriguing and mysterious.” “A “beautifully wrought story,” which will make you think long “after you finish it.” –Various Amazon Reviewers

Amazon        Apple        Barnes & Noble        Kobo

Scribd        24 Symbols        Playster        Indigo

Angus & Robertson        Mondadoristore



We hope you enjoy this excerpt!

I DIDN’T ALWAYS WANT to hide. The Council made sure we hid the water from the start, but I would rather have gone out into the world. Hope Springs was a good place to grow up. Once I reached high school, I dreamed of going places. Did you know that? You came to town later, so I never shared that with you. The Council wants us to tell you the secrets so you can report everything that happened, maybe we won’t be forgotten.

You only see what is left, middle-aged and old women who teeter on unsteady legs, searching for balance that is never quite there, the dusty roads, the faded buildings, the closed up businesses, all but Fiekens’ General Store. Maxine always kept that open, even after—no I’m getting ahead of myself. Remind me to stay on track. It’s always best to start a story at the beginning, then maybe you’ll understand.

On that crisp December afternoon the air wafted over me cool and brisk. That morning I went to church with my family like every other Sunday. Maxine didn’t attend church, not since her parents died in an accident the year before. Anna Frolander never did attend church much, but I couldn’t pass judgment, not then or ever.

Maxine spent Sunday afternoons with us kids at the gym when the boys practiced basketball, and well, we girls practiced watching the boys.

I met up with Maxine at the store, but I’d seen the new carving, so I wasn’t surprised when she shared the latest.

“Have I got news for you.” Maxine’s voice sang over the aisles of canned goods and staples. It was like my old friend was back, happier than I’d seen her in so long.

“Does it have anything to do with the new heart on the Sweetheart Tree? Spotted it this morning after church.” I waited at the front door and hooked my arm into her elbow when she came up to me. We headed down the dusty street toward the high school. My friend almost skipped beside me.

Her face glowed. “Yes,” she said with a little squeal. “Billy asked me last night. Liv, you’ll be my maid of honor, right?”

I hugged her hard. “You bet. When’s the wedding?”

“Not until school’s out.”

“Let’s hurry. I’m sure Billy’s eager to see you.” I pulled her along faster toward the gymnasium.

On that quiet Sunday, few people were outside. We waved to my mother’s good friend, Anna, who was sweeping her front walk. An early snow dusted the craggy mountains in the distance, but the moderate temperature promised a mild winter. The surrounding mountains and hills sheltered Hope Springs in a verdant valley. It made hiding easier then and later when it became more necessary. Our seclusion saved our lives or perhaps it ended them. I suppose you’ll be the judge of that when the story’s told.

We stepped inside the gym. The basketball players’ shoes screeched on the wood floor. The boys practiced non-stop since the big game on Tuesday with our rival, Tularosa High, loomed in our future. We’d lost the last game with them, and we wanted to make the state playoffs.

The ball whooshed through the net.

“Billy made a good shot,” I said and Maxine just grinned. “So tell me about the proposal. Did he get down on one knee?”

“No. He made my favorite sundae at the store and put a little toothpick with a flag on top. On the flag were the words, ‘Will you?’”

Billy had loved her it seemed like forever, so I wasn’t surprised, but his parents weren’t a fan of the idea. “Did he decide to stay in town and run the store with you?”

“Mother and Papa would have approved, don’t you think?” Her question came out breathless as she searched for confirmation.

I squeezed her hand. “I’m sure they would have.”

The excitement of a moment ago faded from her eyes, replaced with the haunting pain of grief. At least while watching the boys, Maxine could be a girl again. I worried about her since she’d quit school to run her family’s store. On Sundays and game days she closed the door and warmed a seat on the bleachers, cheering Billy Fiekens on. She hadn’t lost her place in our class of 1942, though she wouldn’t graduate with the rest of us. Without Maxine we’d only have thirteen on stage for the ceremony in May. She had confided to me she hoped to get her diploma after marrying Billy, if he could watch the store.

“His parents approve of it?” I asked.

Maxine closed her eyes a moment. The hesitation spoke volumes. Over the last year, I had watched her deal with the unthinkable. I couldn’t imagine losing one parent, let alone both. My poor, gentle Maxine, who always had a kind word of encouragement for me whenever I grew tired of waiting to leave town, withdrew even deeper into herself after the accident. With the proposal, I saw signs of her sorrow lifting.

“They still want him to go to UNM?” I asked.

“Yes.” Maxine clenched her green cotton skirt before smoothing it down. “I kept telling him to go ahead and attend school. Teaching is so important to him. He just said, ‘If your parents were still alive, I’d do it, we’d go together and live in Albuquerque.’ Then he’d mention selling the store.”

“You could sell the store, but—”

“I can’t do that, not yet. It’s too soon. Besides, Billy’s parents can’t afford to support us both. Who would buy a store in the middle of nowhere, New Mexico?”

I laughed. “Or if the Council would even let you sell. I’m sure they’d have to authorize it.”

The door at the end of the gym burst open and little Eddie Frolander ran inside. “The Japs bombed Pearl Harbor!” he shouted. “Melvin’s dad heard it on his radio.”

Everything went silent, all but the bouncing ball echoing through the gymnasium. The players surrounded Eddie and everyone began talking at once.

“Where’s Pearl Harbor?” Maxine asked me.

“I don’t know,” I answered. We climbed down the bleachers to join the players.

Nine-year-old Eddie’s words tripped over one another. “I dunno any details, but Mr. Bracht said to tell everyone. He said we might be at war and spread the word.”

“War.” The word was murmured repeatedly through the crowd.

“Pearl Harbor is in Hawaya. The president said they bombed the navy base there.” Eddie’s dark hair fell over his eyes.

Maxine rushed over to Billy and he threw a sweaty arm around her shoulders. At that moment, I longed for a shoulder to lean on too.

Donnie Frolander, Eddie’s older brother, sidled up to me. “If we’ve been attacked, what will it mean?”

“Surely the president will tell us what to do.” I said. “President Roosevelt has seen us through a lot already.”

“Maybe we ought to head over to Mr. Bracht’s house,” Billy suggested.

“The Council was mad when Mr. Bracht bought a battery radio last year,” Donnie said. “But maybe this is a good reason to have a radio in town. Imagine if we didn’t find out until Tuesday when Tularosa comes to play the game. Boy, would we look dumb.”

I itched to tell Donnie to keep his opinions of the Council to himself, but swallowed the urge. Too late anyway. The other young people muttered an agreement, falling into their common theme of whining about the Council’s decisions. Uncle Jim’s words echoed in my mind. “You youngsters have no real idea what it means to this town to keep us isolated as much as possible. Besides you have opportunities enough to get outside, go to Tularosa or over to Alamogordo to the movie house.”  Arguments of the young people wanting more freedom, and wishing to see the world, or letting more visitors in to see us always fell on deaf ears. Freedom wasn’t in the Council’s vocabulary.

From the time I started school, my parents and other adults in the community drilled into us the necessity of keeping the secret. On the verge of adulthood, me and my friends questioned the rules set up by the founding fathers. I pushed the thought away. War on the horizon? What did it mean to Hope Springs?

Tamara Eaton is a "western woman." She lives in the southwest USA, and wide-open spaces of the desert and prairie are often portrayed in her work--fiction and poetry. Several of her stories have been published online and in print. When she isn't writing, she is often editing for others. Weeping Women Springs is her debut novel.

Facebook        Twitter