Quickie Notes, aka FYIs

Would you believe I'm blogging while cooking dinner for tomorrow, plus messaging Big Son up in New Jersey? Who says we 50-something grandmothers can't multi-task?

I meant to cook as soon as we got back from bowling tonight but then got wrapped up in working on CRYSTAL WAVES. (You might be wondering why I'm cooking tomorrow's dinner tonight. Wednesday nights are busy in this household, with hubby coming back from his ministry late, so we have to schedule dinner accordingly.) So while the Italian dressing chicken cooks and the potatoes and carrots brown, here are some quickie notes (or you can call them FYIs, since they're both). Just things I want to make clear before anything else comes up!

1) First things first: FOR THE LOVE OF SUMMER, the 3rd and final book of THE JOYFUL NOISE SERIES, will most likely be published in the first quarter of 2015. Sorry for the delay on that--CRYSTAL WAVES sort of took over the top spot in the publishing schedule!

2) CRYSTAL WAVES, which will be coming out in paperback, will be having its own giveaway on Goodreads. I'll be announcing that both here and on Goodreads when the time comes.

3) There will be a sweet romance novella in between CRYSTAL WAVES and FOR THE LOVE OF SUMMER, something light that will tentatively be coming out in January 2015. This won't be specifically Christian/inspirational, but it WILL be classified as a sweet romance, one that you can share with the young (teen or young adult) reader in your life.

4) Sometime next year, look for the return of Consuelo Vazquez (my other pen name), that will be a 20th Century Historical that follows a Cuban-American family. More news on that to follow.

5) By the time CRYSTAL WAVES is published, that makes 4 books written and published this year. Barring anything that comes up, I anticipate that 2015 will be just as busy, writing-wise. Nothing is set in stone yet, but I'm looking forward to at least one of those works being a historical. Check back here often for news.

That's it for now. Back to the Italian dressing chicken for me...and good night to you!

Background on CRYSTAL WAVES

As promised, here is the background story for my upcoming book, Crystal Waves, which is a Christian mainstream novel.

A book that started out with a "what-if" premise, it also has the distinction of being the first book I wrote back in the early 1990s, when my kids were small and I was a secretary for a brokerage house, and I decided that finally I would try to get my work published. Before my YA books, before my romance novels and Christian inspirational novels, before my short stories published by the confessions magazines, I wrote a Christian novel entitled Crystal Waves, which was roughly about 320 pages long (about 80,00 words, I believe). Someone back at the time suggested I send it to an agent in Texas, a man I'd never heard of before, but remember--I was a total newbie at the time, a complete tenderfoot tossing my hat into the ring. There were a lot of people I'd never heard of. Neither did I think of researching the person to whom I was trusting my work.

Eventually, I was repped by two terrific agents whom I'm proud to have worked with: Jean Price, who is no longer in the business, and Meredith Bernstein of New York. Today I work on my own. This guy, whoever he was, basically kept my book for months on end (though I suspect he just tossed it upon arrival, even though it had been sent with a SASE), and when I worked up the nerve to call him he callously said, "Oh, did I not send that back to you? I'll do that."

He never sent it back. Surprise! Boy, do I miss those days now as a self-pubbed author. Not. Anyway, that's okay. At least I had enough common sense to keep the original, which was written on Multimate. (Yes, it goes back THAT far.)

Crystal Waves then languished in my drawer for a while. In the meantime, I received rejection after rejection on other books and stories, like most new authors Back in the Day of Traditional Publishing, with my YA projects that almost made it but then ultimately didn't. I lost faith in the project and then eventually was published in other genres including romance. At one point, I deep-sixed the floppy on which the book was written and the original hard copy, believing it was just an early work with no potential and no prospects of ever being published. Besides, I was finally a "pubbed" writer who'd found some measure of (slim) success as a midlist author working in other genres.

In recent years as an indie publisher, I've been able to come back to my roots: the Christian/inspirational and mainstream genres. It's been a real pleasure to work on two series, namely Larkspur Valley and now my current series, Joyful Noise. With two books done and one to go in that series, I found myself remembering my "firstborn" baby, Crystal Waves.

I believe the Lord put that on my heart, to remember this what-if story, this big, sprawling novel with a big cast that includes--well, I'm getting ahead of myself.

But I couldn't publish the book. I threw it out, floppy disk and all. I've even gotten rid of computers that USE floppy disks. Besides, it had its share of warts, as most First Books.

Which means the book would have to be rewritten...from scratch.

From memory.

With a 54-year-old writer's memory, no less.

Much of the book is lost to me. Again, it's been years since I first wrote it. I remember key points, even parts that I KNEW wouldn't fly (and have since been eliminated from this new version). And yet the desire to rewrite and publish the book, to share it with my readers, became stronger and stronger.

So I am now rewriting Crystal Waves. Every author, I believe, has a Beloved But Forgotten Book. This is mine.

I'm writing it with the skill I've gained over the years, which I didn't have as a tenderfoot. I'm writing it not timidly or with the will-it-ever-see-the-light-of-day fears of an unpubbed author, but rather with confidence and with love. I could leave it there, in the Past, in the Revolving File, with all the newer irons I have in the fire.

Yet there is something to be said about something that was forgotten by the world, even by the "parent", that is resurrected and is given a second chance, that truly makes me want to return each day to work on this project and to nurture it and see it to the words THE END.

I'm hoping to publish Crystal Waves sometime in late October or early November, depending on its length, which will determine not only its writing but editing time frames.

Now to any authors out there...have any forgotten babies out there you need to take a second look at?

Excerpt from DISTANT FIRE

ENJOY!

That morning, in church, Drew thought he’d seen the same beautiful girl looking back at him with those loving eyes. And something else that had totally caught him by surprise; she had looked at him with yearning, even allowing her gaze to rake over him.

With desire. The way a woman hadn’t looked at him in so long.

He had only been standing there long enough to watch the next bunch of children and their parents board the carousel, in that familiar, mad dash to find a painted horse with a seat to fill. The breezes carried the unique scent of the ocean that he loved so much, mingled with the aroma of boardwalk pizza and other Jersey shore delicacies.

That was when Linda appeared, stepping lightly through a crowd of teenagers and young families. Drew could see that she was looking around for him, dressed in a long pair of brown shorts with a purple top, a mini purse dangling from a long strap wrapped around her shoulder. Her brown sandals dressed up her casual outfit.

Oh, boy. Here we go, he told himself, taking a deep breath and pushing away from the railing.

I don’t know if that’s really what she was feeling this morning, Lord, but she still brings up those feelings in me as a man.

Having admitted the truth about his thoughts, Drew pulled himself together and waved to get her attention.

“Hey, Linda! Over here!”

More as a greeting than anything meant romantically, Linda reached forward to initiate a hug. Drew let her fill his arms, unable to stop his eyes from closing, and probably holding her a second or two longer than he should have.

At the same time, unbeknownst to him, Linda was also closing her eyes. He’s the musical guy at church, she thought. I probably should let go now.

Yet, music director or not, he felt better than he should have, there in her arms. She’d hugged men since her divorce; men like Pastor and male friends at church, and also recently, her now-former boss. Those had been chaste embraces, greetings between believers, expressions of unfeigned affection for a man who had been a good, decent employer who had helped her put food on the table for her daughter and herself.

This was a different sort of embrace. One she hadn’t expected to enjoy as much as she did.

“The carousel,” she murmured as she reluctantly pulled away. “That was easy to remember.”

It was as if he had to remind himself to withdraw his arm from around her, at last dropping it to his side.

“You didn’t forget that,” Drew sounded surprised.

“No, of course not. Not since it was always our meeting place. Whenever we were at Seaside Heights.” She walked beside him, not sure of where they were going and not caring. “I haven’t been there since before Hurricane Sandy…and then there was that fire.”

“Is it still there? Because there were two carousels. But we always met by that one, the older one.”

“The newer one was destroyed in the fire. I read that in the paper. Our carousel survived.”

Our carousel. Linda hoped it didn’t sound too forward, but then Drew commented on it.

“That was our carousel, that’s right,” he said softly. “So many times meeting there. Riding it. Shame about the other one, though.”

“It is, yes.”

He stopped walking and handed her the gift in his hand. “That’s—that’s not much. Just a little something to thank you for coming out today. You probably had something else to do.”

“I had absolutely nothing else to do!” She flashed one of those playful smiles that were still familiar to him. “My Valerie has met a young man, so Mom is on her own these days. But thank you, Drew. I should have gotten something for you, too.”

“Nah. I wanted to do that. You can open it now or—”

“Oh, no, you know me and suspense.”

Linda had an inkling as to what was in the small, rectangular box, judging by its size. Undoing the bow, she opened it and found that she was correct. Inside was a simple red, baby rose.

Just like the one he had given her years earlier. It may have been tiny and delicate, but it emitted its sweet perfume, and she didn’t know why but she felt her throat tighten with a sudden urge to cry.

Lord, Jesus, what’s happening? She avoided Drew’s gaze, which seemed to be awaiting hers.

“That’s as beautiful as the one you gave me years ago.” Somehow, she managed to keep her voice steady.

“Uh-huh. I was happy to find a florist who had one.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, want to take a walk? Catch up?”

“That’d be great.”

“Ride the carousel. Later, maybe.”

Whenever you’d like. After so long, she felt shy saying those words. As if shyness had ever been a problem for her, when it was in Linda’s nature to speak up for herself or others.

“Later, if we get a chance, that’d be nice,” she said. “But, okay, let’s walk.”

This was a date. She hadn’t been sure before, when he’d invited her to meet him on the boardwalk, but the carousel, the tiny rose, the tender looks—everything was pointing to this being a date.

“On the beach? On the boardwalk?” he specified, giving her the impression that he, too, was out of practice, date-wise.

“On the beach. It’s less crowded. Or at least we can make our way better.”

“On the beach, it is.” At the nearby ramp, one of many along the boardwalk, he turned to her.

“Leave our shoes up here, right? By the boardwalk?”

How strange, yet how familiar! They were behaving as if no time had elapsed between them. Doing what they’d done as young people.

Except she hadn’t kissed him. Or he hadn’t kissed her. Lord, she wanted to kiss him so badly, like a teenager in love, with that crazy, now-or-never urgency of a teenager.

This was the music director at church. At True Vine, her home church, with her pastor and Maribel, and her friends. Where she was fed spiritually, where she attended service and worshipped and fellowshipped. The place she would have to leave if things went awry this time with the man who’d been her boyfriend years ago. And finding a new church was always a daunting task.

“Let’s leave them up here,” she said and slipped off her sandals. “Andrew Lingerfelt…what happened to your guitar?”

Drew was bent at the waist, pulling off his shoe when he squinted up at her. “I told you. It got burned up in a fire.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, both of us know that’s not what happened. Now, if it’s something that’s none my business, Drew, then just say so. But don’t tell me something that I know in my heart isn’t true.”

Was he offended? And if he was, would he put an end to their first date? Unless he had changed, he’d always been even-tempered. Unlike her ex-husband, he had never been snippy, either.

“That must’ve been bothering you,” he grumbled.

“It has been bothering me. Again, if it’s none of my business—”

“I sold it. I didn’t get much for it, because someone had...put a lot of little flowers all over it. But I got a few bucks for it at a time when I needed money.” He had slipped on his sunglasses, which effectively hid his eyes, and lifted his chin in defiance. “So now you know the truth about my guitar.”

Or part of the truth. Because there was more to the story than what he was telling her. Linda began to walk beside him, both of them barefoot on the sand. She knew she couldn’t press him further.

“How did you used to do that? How do you still do that?” Drew sounded more amazed than irritated.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s instincts after having been a mom.” Not a very romantic response, and she doubted it was what he wanted to hear on a romantic date. She decided to change the subject in an effort to lighten the mood. “So you know about where I’ve been these years. Tell me about you, Drew.”

“Actually, I have a question I need you to answer.”

They had been making their way down to the water. Linda watched a young family—a dad and mom in their late twenties, with two boys, toddlers, in the water.

“What's that?” She pushed past her fear to ask.

“Why did you leave me, Linda? Why did you marry someone else, a guy you barely knew, when we’d been together for years?”

It wasn't quite an accusation, though there was a trace of anger in those words. No—not anger, but hurt.

“Excuse me, but you were the one who broke up with me,” she reminded him sharply. “You were the one who left me.”

That wasn’t the conversation that she wanted to be having with him. What had happened to that carefree afternoon they were supposed to have been sharing? Chatting with an old friend, catching up with each other’s lives.

What they were doing was dealing with the proverbial elephant in the room. Questions that had gone unanswered for years. Linda turned to Drew, who stood with his hands in his pockets, looking out at the water. In the distance a party boat of leisure fishermen and women chugged along, past the waves.

“I can understand you wanting him,” he said without looking at her. “He was a young guy with a future. I was—I had no direction back then. I just wanted to play music—”

“My father pushed for that. And that ‘young man with a future’ got me pregnant. I was responsible for what happened, too, except he wasn’t the perfect guy my father made him out to be. He proved that by walking away from me and his child.” There was no bitterness there; it was only the truth. The truth wasn’t always pretty or neat.

Drew removed his glasses, nodding. “I would’ve married you. I wouldn’t have done that to you or the baby.”

“No? She was another man’s daughter.”

“She would’ve been my daughter, Linda. Or at least I would have raised her that way. I would’ve loved her. Because I loved you.”

His voice was hoarse. She pressed, “Still, it was you who said goodbye—”

“Because your father said I was a loser.”

“My father? What he thought about you didn’t matter to me, Drew.” Linda tried not to raise her voice with emotion.

“That’s how you feel now. Back then, he controlled you, Linda. And we were also fighting a lot. I thought you didn’t want me. That you didn’t love me. And then I went to the church on the day of your wedding and I would’ve—”

Linda stared at him. “You were there?”

“No.”

“Drew, you just said you were!” Her patience was dwindling. “Now which is it?”

“All right. I was there. And I was going to ask you not to marry him. To marry me instead. But I didn’t do that. I didn’t want to ruin your wedding. Or your life, Linda. It was June 11, 1988. It was a Saturday. About two in the afternoon. St. Joseph’s of the Palisades. West New York, New Jersey.”

Stunned, she touched her throat with her hand. “Oh. My Lord…you were there.”

Drew shrugged. “I just want you to know. And I wanted you to know that’s what happened.”

She didn’t know what to say. Apparently, he didn’t, either, though he gently took her forearm and led her down the beach along the wet, darkened sandy. On an impulse, more to see if he would accept the gesture of affection, she let her hand slip through the crook of his arm.

That was when he looked at her. Intensely, without rancor or anger.

July Updates

Quickie check-in with updates, though the main one is that I'm about halfway done with editing and polishing my upcoming release, DISTANT FIRE, which is Book 2 of THE JOYFUL NOISE SERIES. Very possibly won't be releasing Book 3, FOR THE LOVE OF SUMMER, until September. That will conclude this Christian romance novel series, and then I'll be working on another Christian mainstream, very different than my previous books, and probably a period piece.

Don't forget: In case you haven't read Book 1 of the series yet, UNCONDITIONAL is a perma-free book. Get yours now!

That's the writing/books update.

On the personal front, I've become quite the baker! Thanks to Pinterest, I *finally* found a sourdough starter that I liked and didn't mess up, and here it is. Plus, I lucked out and found a wonderful sourdough bread recipe, and you'll find that here. That was a hit with my family, especially my granddaughter, Aubrey, who wanted some to take home with her.

An interesting note: I had no eggs available when I made the bread recipe and substituted 1/2 cup of unsweetened applesauce. My husband, Bill, didn't know that and was pleasantly surprised, saying it had just a hint of sweetness. Just FYI, in case you want to skip the egg when making this one! It was easy and the dough was less sticky than some I've seen, easy to work with, though you do need about 3 to 4 hours for rising/baking.

While we're on the subject, want something light, healthy, summery and a great side dish for lunch or dinner? Here's a fabulous tomato & cucumber salad! And again, I made a change to it by replacing the feta with about 1/4 cup (but you can certainly use more or less) of grated Asiago cheese.

One more note: Thanks to K9Instinct, I also did some baking for Piper and Lassie. With no coconut flour on hand, I made it with all-purpose flour, the type I always have on hand. The girls LOVED it. Note: Thanks to a friend of mine, Mary, for the tip to freeze half the recipe, since these are fresh and made without preservatives, so you can take them down when you need them for your furbabies.

So there are my July 2014 updates for books-on-the-way...and yummy things to whip up in your kitchen.

It's Here--My January Release!

Available now on Amazon & Smashwords, here is ONE SWEET DAY! Look for it on Barnes & Noble's Nook this week, too! Hoping to have it ready in paperback shortly, too.

So get your copy & enjoy!

Coming Attractions

Want a little sneak peak at my upcoming book, GREETINGS FROM MY SANDY DREAMS? Now there's a brand-new trailer for it on my Youtube channel.

Of course, I was creating the trailer when I should have been writing, but since it's part of promo, I guess it's okay. Heh. So if you've got less than a minute, because that's all it takes to view it, click on the link below & enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EeueqaIIyJE


Also, I would be remiss if I didn't thank readers for not only downloading the freebie on Amazon, THE CHRISTMAS WALTZ (in May--I love that, LOL), but also for checking out the other books in the Larkspur Valley Series as well as GLIMMERS OF HEAVEN. CHAMPAGNE TASTE is also enjoying a bit of attention on Nook. Thanks, also, for being so gracious and taking the time to write a review or to email  me. That means a lot and I really appreciate it. Very glad my stories have found a place in your Kindles, Nooks, Ereaders, Ipads, and whatever all they come up with these days, but especially in your hearts!

GREETINGS FROM MY SANDY DREAMS is now close to 40,000 words, so as soon as it's completed and in the editing/polishing stage, I'll be publishing an excerpt and giving out more info before its release.

Have a Happy and Safe Memorial Day weekend, while we also remember our veterans and our men and women now serving in the armed forces. God bless them all!

Excerpt from MORE THAN SPARROWS

If you're like me, you're finally setting down after a day of preparations for Easter tomorrow. I've spent the day preparing for family who'll be coming over for dinner. Now that the house is clean and spruced up and some side dishes are done, I can finally settle down and get some work done on the final book of The Larkspur Valley Series.

In the meantime, now that you've got your coffee and are ready to kick back, how about an excerpt from Book 1, MORE THAN SPARROWS? Enjoy!

Henry Gordon was proud of his car, a bright orange-red 1960 Chevy Impala, which he’d only had for a year. The last thing he wanted was to wreck it in an accident, but he was even more afraid of his pregnant granddaughter being injured. Driving in inclement weather had always made him nervous.

So he drove slowly, both hands gripping the steering wheel, his eyes fixed to the road, while the all-news radio station droned on with details of the storm. “An historic storm,” they were calling it. Those four miles from town to his farm might as well have been a hundred and four miles, for how long it was taking him, but with the Lord’s help he’d get them home safely.

The girl hadn’t said much along the way. That was fine, since he had to concentrate on his driving. She’d been crying, too. He had to grin when he thought back to a few minutes ago, how she’d smiled and quickly dried her face, though her red eyes gave her away. The little girl was trying to be brave, and he respected that in someone so young. Henry knew his daughter; he knew what Vera must have put that poor child through before casting her out of her own home.

Gratefully, he pulled into the familiar long driveway. To cut through the silence, he announced, “Well, Penny, honey, we’re home.”

“Are we? I’m glad.” She turned to him shyly, her voice trembling in spite of her smile. “Home sweet home.”

Pleased, Henry chuckled. “Yes, that’s right. Home sweet home.”

He wanted to admit to her that it would be sweeter now that the place wouldn’t be quite so empty anymore. Naturally, it was also about to get a lot less quiet in that old house, too. As a man who was up and about at the crack of dawn, it would be an adjustment for him, having a little one crying and fussing at all hours of the night.

But that was all right by him. Henry was no stranger to babies. He’d fathered six children in all; three had been stillborn, the fourth—a boy—had died during the night at the age of two months. His beloved wife, Opal, had always been of delicate health, and she was the never the same after finding her infant son dead in his crib that terrible morning.

Time, like people said, heals all wounds. But that didn’t mean he’d forgotten all that. Tonight, for him at least, was a happy occasion. Still, emotionally speaking, he was keeping a bit of a distance. Just in case Penny, like her mother, wouldn’t want that to be her home at all.

“Easy. Careful,” he advised as he helped her out of the car. “Is that all you have, girl? Just those shoes? You don’t have any boots?”

She looked down at her feet. “That’s all I have. And an old pair of bedroom slippers. They won’t do me any good in this snow, but—”

“Some of the boys who’ve worked for me are about your age. I think I can find their old boots in the stable. They’re not pretty boots, but they’ll do better on the snow and ice.”

“That’d be good. Thank you, Grandfather…Grandpa.”

He retrieved her suitcase from the trunk, then helped her up the snowy path to the front door. “You hungry?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to be any trouble. I can wait till tomorrow to eat something.”

“Well, no, you can’t. You’re a mama now, eating for two,” he corrected her firmly. “I can make you a sandwich. Won’t take but a minute and you won’t have to go to bed hungry.”

Willingly, she accepted the offer at that point. “Okay.”

Lots of things in the house needed fixing. What house over half a century old didn’t? Still, Henry had to admit that his home looked almost picturesque on such a white, wintry night such as that one. The sideways-falling snow had blown onto the plain porch, leaving a thick layer of snowflakes on the four old rockers that were there year-round.

Once inside, he watched Penny’s reaction. Long before her mother was her age, she couldn’t wait to leave the old farmhouse. Penny, on the other hand, immediately surveyed the house with one sweeping glance. Curiosity filled her eyes as she looked around at the sparse furnishings, her gaze resting on the fireplace set in a wall of rock.

“That’s a real fireplace!” she exclaimed.

“Yep. Sure is.”

“We don’t have one. We have this little furnace-type thing in the apartment. Or we did.”

The fact that her voice had trailed off forlornly didn’t escape him. Henry studied his granddaughter, who at seventeen was at that crossroads in her life, not a little girl anymore but just embarking on young womanhood. Some would consider her plain, but he thought she had an honest kind of beauty. He suspected her light auburn hair, tamed back in a single long braid, could be a mess of tight, unruly curls. A heavy dusting of freckles dotted the fair complexion of her face. Penny’s eyes were a dark, almost murky green, beneath long eyelashes the same color as her hair.

There was an unmistakable innocence about her. An innocent child who’d gotten herself into trouble with a boy who was now nowhere to be found. How could Vera have done that? Thrown this little girl away like that?

He tamped down on the anger that was at a slow boil inside him, not wanting her to think it was directed at her.

“Let me show you to your room.” He led the way up the staircase with her walking behind him, wearily. “Then I’ll make you something to eat. I’m not going to make a fire tonight, Penny. The house is drafty, I know, but I think we’ve got enough blankets.”

“I think it’s a wonderful house, Grandpa. Tonight, it feels more like a storybook castle.”

“I’m sure that won’t last long!” he exclaimed, laughing heartily, though his heart went out to her.

Surely, to someone with no place to go, no roof over her head, that old farmhouse built at the turn of the century had to feel like a grandiose castle. He was touched, too, but he refused to take it too seriously. She was young and she’d lived in the city. It wouldn’t be long before country life bored her out of her wits.

“Grandpa, I want you to know that I’m a quick study. I’ve never worked on a farm before, but I learn fast.”

Henry had just set her suitcase down on the bed for her. He considered it an insult to his granddaughter, after what she’d been through, to place her in her mother’s room. Instead, her room was the one that had belonged to her Uncle Timothy. That one boasted a rocker by the window, covered by an afghan older than Penny herself. He recalled wistfully that her grandmother had knitted that afghan shortly before her death.

“Work? No, Penny. No, no.” Adamantly, he shook his head. “Ladies in your condition don’t do farm work.”

“But there has to be something I can do, Grandpa.” The girl dipped her head down, as if afraid to meet his gaze. “I want to be useful to you. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You won’t be, Penny. But a woman having a baby shouldn’t work.” Seeing her bottom lip quiver, he conceded reluctantly, “Guess you could feed the chickens or something—”

“I could do that. Yes.”

“But only that. You get settled. Come down to the kitchen when you’re ready. I’ll go fix your sandwich.”

On his way back down the stairs, Henry shook his head. The girl wanted to do farm work. Of all the crazy things he’d ever heard!

She’s only a little girl herself, he reminded himself.

This was her first baby. From the little Vera had told him over the phone, Penny had done everything she could to conceal her pregnancy for the first four months. When she’d begun to show, she wore clothing that was looser around her waist.

She’s a deceitful little witch.

His jaw tightened at the memory of the vicious tone in his daughter’s voice when she’d said those words. At the kitchen counter he put a generous helping of ham and cheese between two slices of bread, spreading a thin layer of mayonnaise to the sandwich.

Vera hadn’t bothered to explain anything to her daughter, “the deceitful witch.” She hadn’t told her about taking proper care of herself because she had a little one to consider. That she needed to eat well and stay off her feet, because it was too easy for a delicate young girl to lose the baby inside her.

Vera hadn’t cared about her daughter or her grandchild. She’d only wanted Penny and her baby out of her life and her new husband’s.

“Apple juice or milk?” he asked as Penny entered and seated herself at the table. “I suggest the milk.”

“I like both, so I’ll take the milk. It’s better for the baby.”

That was the first real smile he’d seen on her face since he’d met her that evening, prompting a chuckle from him.

“Good girl!” he exclaimed, pouring them each a glass. “That’s from right here, too, from our cows.”

Penny sampled a big, refreshing gulp. “Delicious. The sandwich looks good, too, Grandpa. And that room…that was Uncle Timothy’s, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but he won’t be needing it anymore.”

“Will I maybe get to meet him sometime?”

“Maybe.” It wasn’t a lie; just an evasive answer to a painful question. He sat himself across from her. “I need to go into town for some supplies tomorrow morning. You’re welcome to come with me.”

“Go into town? Okay.”

“’Course, that all depends on how the roads are tomorrow. If this storm ever ends.” He watched her pick up the sandwich and gently informed her, “We say grace in this house, honey.”

“What? Oh—sure, Grandpa.” Penny set down the sandwich and folded her hands in front of her. “Sorry. We don’t do that in Mama’s house.”

I’m sure. He kept that comment to himself and said a little prayer of thanks, then waved his hand at the sandwich. “Dig in.”

He wanted to ask about the father. All Vera would say was, “He’s nowhere to be found.” She’d also gone on to say something to the effect of boys being boys. Penny, who she claimed was now no longer her daughter, was the loose girl with no morals for having enticed him. Henry had held himself, wanting so badly to defend his granddaughter. He’d only held his tongue for the sake of not angering Vera, who was capable of not sending Penny to him in retaliation.

And he held his tongue now concerning the boy who’d impregnated her. When she was ready, she’d talk about him. It wasn’t important right now, anyway. The only thing of significance was making her feel at peace in her new home. That subject, Henry would approach.

“I know this goes without saying, but this is your home now,” he said. “I want to feel comfortable here, like you belong, because you do.”

She swallowed a bite of her sandwich. Her eyes again moistened. “I can’t tell you what that means to me, Grandpa.”

“Well, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you being here. Look around, Penny. I don’t have a lot, but what I have is yours and the baby’s.”

“Thank you.”

“By the way, have you given any thought to a name?”

Her surprise at the question turned to delight. “I have. What do you think about the name Benjamin?”

“That’s a good name. It’s from the Bible, too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, the Old Testament. One of Joseph’s brothers. The twelve tribes of Israel. That’s a fine choice. And what about if the baby is a girl?”

“Oh, this is a boy.” Penny giggled and gave her stomach an affectionate rub.

“You know that for sure?”

“Yep. It’s a boy. This is Benjamin. I call him Ben sometimes. And he must hear us talking about him right now.”

“Oh? Is he kicking right now?”

“Yes. Look, Grandpa. See if you can feel him.”

It had been a long time since he’d gotten that invitation. He’d always believed it would come from his only daughter first, not his granddaughter. Yet he willingly, if shyly, obliged by letting her guide the palm of his hand to her abdomen. It was solid, like a mother-to-be’s belly typically was. Within moments he could feel soft, wonderful movement against his hand.

“Well, if that don’t beat all. Hello, my great-grandson!” He laughed heartily.

“He likes you. He didn’t kick you. Sometimes he just touches you.” Penny paused to sip her milk. “You can feel when he touches you instead, like he’s pressing his little hand up against yours. I can’t wait to meet him, Grandpa.”

“I can’t, either.”

Barely trusting himself to say anything else, he was quiet for a few moments. By nature, he was a reserved man, never given to histrionics. Yet he couldn’t help but feel more emotional than usual.

As he waited for her to finish her sandwich and milk, he thought about bringing up another subject, then ruled it out. She really did need female guidance in this whole baby business. As a man and her grandfather, there was just so much advice he could give her. Had Opal been alive, she would have lovingly taken their granddaughter under her wing. Henry had wanted to ask her if she would mind him asking around—discreetly, of course. There was one person he had in mind, a decent, kind woman from church. She wouldn’t look down on Penny like some other women would. Henry trusted her. He would approach her on Penny’s behalf.

In any case, tonight wasn’t the night to discuss those things. There would be time later.

“The bathroom is upstairs and down the hallway,” he told her as they rose from the table. He placed her dish in the sink. “I’m a light sleeper, so if you need anything, wake me up.”

“I’ll be fine, Grandpa. But that’s good to know.” She turned to face him. “Thank you for coming tonight.”

“Well, I gave you my word I’d come.”

“I know. But you didn’t have to keep your word. Just like you didn’t have to give me someplace to go. I won’t forget you saying that to me on the phone, Grandpa. When you said, ‘You can come here. Come home as soon as you can.’”

Her voice cracked softly. He wasn’t expecting that hug that felt like it was coming from a scared little girl…which, in spite of the fact that she was carrying a child of her own, was exactly what she was. Henry had never been particularly good at physical displays of affection, but he managed. Clumsily, he managed, hugging her back.

“Good night, honey,” he mumbled. “Sweet dreams, you and your little man.”

New Christmas Short Story!

With the great reception that MORE THAN SPARROWS has received--it's spent some time on both the Christian Historical and Christian Romance Historical bestseller lists, I'm so excited to announce!--I've decided to release this romantic short story for Christmas.

AND here's more news: THE CHRISTMAS WALTZ won't be a stand-alone story, but rather part of the new Larkspur Valley Series! This is the story of June Sheppard, the sister of Ruth Beverly from MORE THAN SPARROWS. Please note: THE CHRISTMAS WALTZ is a short story, but the next book in the series will be longer in length. I wanted to offer a shorter work for readers to enjoy during the holidays, since it's been a year since my last Christmas release, 'TWAS THE SPY BEFORE CHRISTMAS, came out.

As soon as I have a release date, I'll post it here. For now, here's the cover for a Christmas short story that I hope will touch your heart and bring you both joy and a tear to your eye.

GLIMMERS OF HEAVEN

My Christian inspirational, GLIMMERS OF HEAVEN, has a new look! I wasn't completely happy with the first cover, so I redesigned it. The picture reminds me of how much my own love, my husband Bill, love taking strolls along the beach, especially early in the morning. And, no surprise, there's a scene in which the hero and heroine take a stroll down at the Jersey shore.

But anyway, I'm happy with the new cover!

Ever Read THE COP & THE MERMAID?

Hey--my publisher, New Concepts Publishing, has a good deal available on Amazon! Just $1.99 buys the ebook version of THE COP & THE MERMAID, my full-length paranormal for your Kindle. With the holidays coming up and all the running around being done, between shopping, cooking, and fighting for spaces in mall parking lots, don't you deserve a little treat? Let Tommy and his real-life mermaid sweep you away for some moments of fantasy and a romance that Long & Short Romance Reviews calls, "a wonderful, emotionally fulfilling story that entranced me from the first page to the last!"