The Perils of Writing Under A Pseudonym by Susie Black

I love when Susie visits the Window--she's so funny, and such a good writer, too! I didn't know how to put this in here, but she has a free swimwear guide she'll be glad to send you. Just email her at the address at the end of the post. - Liz

When I was ten years old, I hated my first name. I was the only girl in the elementary school with that first name. I longed to be like the other girls with a more common first name. Something boring like Linda or Mary. A first name so commonplace there were several in the class that had to be differentiated by using the initial of their surname. Mary B. or Linda J when they were called upon. From the depths of a ten-year-old’s despair at the oddness of my first name and not fitting in; suddenly the solution came to me. As uncommon as my first name was, that’s how deliciously common my middle name was. I explained my problem to the teacher and told her I preferred to be called by my middle name rather than my first. To my great relief, she readily complied.

Unfortunately, my euphoria was short-lived. After a week of her calling me by my middle name, regrettably, I didn’t respond a single time. By week’s end, my teacher informed me that she was going back to calling me by my hated first name. “You might not like it, but you respond to it.” By now you might be scratching your head and wondering the point of that journey down memory lane. Bear with me. There is a point here…I promise.

If you asked me to describe it, the Holly Swimsuit Mystery Series is the result of Walter Mitty morphing into a woman and becoming an apparel sales executive. Since I have knocked off several fictional characters who are perilously close to actual people I might not have minded eliminating in real life, I thought it prudent to conceal the true identity of the protagonist, Holly Schlivnik, and write her stories under a pseudonym, or as it is more commonly known as a pen name.

So, once I’d decided to write under a pen name, the search for the perfect pseudonym began. What type of pen name to choose? Something flamboyant? Perhaps a clever play on words; an unforgettable name that everyone would remember.

I daydreamed of being interviewed by Oprah Winfrey on a TV special after my debut novel Death by Sample Size became the Oprah Book Club's all-time best seller. Then the shrill voice of my fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Sutter, squawked inside my head, and my daydream quickly became a nightmare. Oprah introduced me to millions of fans….and a repetition of fourth grade on steroids happened as I stood backstage waiting for my name to be called and waited, and waited until Oprah’s producer whacked me on the head with a clipboard, asked if I didn’t know my name when I heard it, and shoved my onto the stage. Yikes. There was a disaster waiting to happen. Now what?

With a history like mine, the smart money said to ditch the pseudonym. Logic dictated go with your real name. Well, no one ever confused me with Albert Einstein. Since I always loved a good challenge, I threw logic out the window and soldiered on with my pseudonym search. To paraphrase Dirty Harry, a girl’s gotta know her limitations. The most important criterion for the pen name wasn’t finding something tricky; it was choosing one I’d remember to answer to.

Since I write cozy mysteries, here are two clues: The first name of my pseudonym is a version of my real middle name. This one is a gimme. The surname of my pen name is the translation from another language to English. Let’s see how alert you are. Can you guess my real middle and surname? If you want to give it a whirl, write to me at: mysteries_@authorsusieblack.com

Death by Jelly Beans

“Brings a whole new meaning to the rabbit died.”

Mermaid Swimwear President Holly Schlivnik discovers the Bainbridge Department Store Easter Bunny slumped over dead and obnoxious swimwear buyer Sue Ellen Magee is arrested for the crime. Despite her differences with the nasty buyer, Holly is convinced the Queen of Mean didn’t do it. The wise-cracking, irreverent amateur sleuth jumps into action to nail the real killer. But the trail has more twists than a pretzel and more turns than a rollercoaster. And nothing turns out the way Holly thinks it will as she tangles with a clever killer hellbent on revenge.

Death by Jelly Beans Buy Links:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/death-by-jelly-beans-susie-black/1145804565?ean=2940186124580

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/212700868-death-by-jelly-beans?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=PWl56Hmfkz&rank=1

https://www.bookbub.com/books/death-by-jelly-beans-holly-swimsuit-mystery-book-5-by-susie-black

Amazon.com : Death by Jelly Beans

Named Best US Author of the Year by N. N. Lights Book Heaven, award-winning cozy mystery author Susie Black was born in the Big Apple but now calls sunny Southern California home. Like the protagonist in her Holly Swimsuit Mystery Series, Susie is a successful apparel sales executive. Susie began telling stories as soon as she learned to talk. Now she’s telling all the stories from her garment industry experiences in humorous mysteries.

She reads, writes, and speaks Spanish, albeit with an accent that sounds like Mildred from Michigan went on a Mexican vacation and is trying to fit in with the locals. Since life without pizza and ice cream as her core food groups wouldn’t be worth living, she’s a dedicated walker to keep her girlish figure. A voracious reader, she’s also an avid stamp collector. Susie lives with a highly intelligent man and has one incredibly brainy but smart-aleck adult son who inexplicably blames his sarcasm on an inherited genetic defect.

Looking for more? Contact Susie at:

Website: www.authorsusieblack.com

E-mail: mysteries_@authorsusieblack.com

Keeping Settings and Secondary Characters Fresh by Nan Reinhardt

One thing I’ve discovered as I’ve been writing my River’s Edge series of books is that readers fall in love with settings and secondary characters as much as they do the main characters. They anxiously await the next story because it means another trip to a place we all want to live or at least visit. Series are a special kind of escape for readers and writers. For me, as author, the warmth of Mac’s Riverside Diner, the fun of the Four Irish Brothers Winery, a cruise through the colorful fabrics at the Seams Pieceful quilt store, pastries from Paula’s Bread & Butter Bakery, or a stroll along the River Walk are just a few of the good reasons to keep telling stories there.

But it’s not enough to use the same setting, the stories have to evolve naturally from it and the town must evolve with it. So new places must crop up in your old setting. Disasters that affect everyone in the town will inevitably become part of a story, as will the restoration of old familiar landmarks, like Aidan Flaherty restoring the River Queen riverboat in Christmas with You or Gerry Ross turning the old cotton mill into a boutique hotel in Meant to Be. Changes mean the setting becomes a developing character itself.

With each new book, readers find new places in River’s Edge to visit—Sudbury’s Nursery and Garden Center takes center stage in my newest novel, Make It Real, where we meet Kara Sudbury, just home from living in England for six years and her grandparents, Ginny and Hunter Sudbury. In the next book in the series, Made for Mistletoe, which releases October 24, Dot and Mary Higgins and their quilt store, Seams Pieceful are in the spotlight as secondary characters.

These secondary characters may never have their own book, but like the setting, they do have their own stories. Readers love to follow townsfolks to see just what’s going to happen next to background characters. In Book 1 of the Four Irish Brothers Winery series, we meet two secondary players, Carly Hayes, Sam’s uptight, high-society mom and Mac Mackenzie, a flannel-wearing Cordon Bleu chef who owns the diner in River’s Edge. An unlikely pair for sure, but by the end of Book 2, Carly and Mac are an item, and although they may never get their own book, their story progresses, and we watch their romance blossom as the main characters’ stories are told. They’re together, running the diner, and still madly in love in Make It Real—book 12 that happens in River’s Edge.

It’s important to introduce new secondary characters to interact with the old ones so the town and its stories don’t become stale, but putting old background folks into new situations is also a fun way to bring interest to your familiar setting and your stories. In my second River’s Edge series, The Lange Brothers, I tell the stories of three brothers who are all first responders. Each brother has his own book, yet woven throughout the three books is their mother’s love story with hotelier Gerry Ross, whom we met back in Book 2 of The Four Irish Brothers Winery series. So Gerry and Jane become a seasoned romance in River’s Edge, adding just a touch more fun to that little town on the banks of the Ohio. See how that works?

Each time we enlarge a secondary character’s story, we are inviting our readers further into our setting and our series, welcoming them into our fantasy world, where life may not always be perfect, but where a happily-ever-after is always guaranteed. 

Out now from Nan Reinhardt!

Make It Real, book 2 in the Walkers of River’s Edge series:

They were only faking it….

A landscape designer for his family’s construction firm, Joe Walker, is nearing completion on one of the most important projects of his career—gardens for spec homes that if they wow, Walker Construction will survive. When a freak accident sidelines him with a broken leg, the firm hires a competitor. Her ideas are radically different, but his stalker ex arrives to play nurse, and Joe needs more than gardening help.

After six-years working in English manor gardens, horticulturist Kara Sudbury returns to River’s Edge to help in her grandparents’ struggling garden center. She’s thrilled when Jackson Walker hires her to execute his injured cousin’s designs. Ignoring Joe is difficult because he’s as sexy now as he was in high school and even more stubborn. But when Joe asks Kara to play the role of girlfriend, they strike a deal that will help Joe handle his tenacious ex and put Sudbury’s Nursery back in the black. Kara’s up for the subterfuge…for a price, but then the pretense feels real, and Kara is reminded that every rose has its thorns.

Buy Links: https://tulepublishing.com/books/make-it-real/#order (links to all outlets are here)

Links to Me: https://linktr.ee/nan_reinhardt
https://www.bookbub.com/authors/nan-reinhardt
http://www.nanreinhardt.com/
https://www.facebook.com/authornanreinhardt
https://instagram.com/NanReinhardt
https://x.com/NanReinhardt

Excerpt:

The gun went off, the woman screeched, and Joe let out a loud oof, then a groan of pain. He released the gun and lay still, his head, face, neck, and bare chest stinging from the blackberry nettles and his left leg feeling very weird. Scout barked and ran up to him, licking Joe’s cheek and panting dog breath all over him.

“Did you shoot yourself?” The woman was there, too, stepping carefully through the brush until she was about a foot from him, her smooth, tanned legs only inches from his head. “Oh my God!” When he opened one eye and looked up at her, her face, which was vaguely familiar, had turned from angry to ashen and horrified. “Your leg!”

The sting of the blackberry thorns had somehow kept him from noticing what was now agonizing pain in his left shin. He started to turn over, but she stooped down and put a dirty gloved hand on his shoulder. “No, don’t move.”

“My face,” he managed, but it was hard to even speak because of the brambles sticking him everywhere, and shit! Was that poison ivy under his cheek? Inanely, his mind went to a couplet, his cousin Jack had taught him and Cam and Eli years ago—leaves of three, let it be; leaves of five, let it thrive. His glasses were gone, and his eye was blurry, but yep, that was three leaves. No. No. No. “I gotta . . . gotta get up,” he mumbled. “Poison ivy.”

The woman held him in place. “That’s the least of your problems. Your leg is really messed up.”

He lifted his head and shoved up with his arms, bringing his upper body out of the brambles, but dropped right back down again as pain shot through his left leg, leaving him nearly breathless. He attempted to peer over his shoulder, but all he could see was his own butt in the slipping-down sleeping shorts. When he tried to move the leg, pain, more excruciating than before, shot through him.

“Stop moving, will you? Your leg is stuck on a branch sticking out of this log and I can see”—she looked down his body at his lower extremities and her pallor grew even grayer—“oh crap, I can see a bone sticking out of your shin.” She plopped down next to him, heedless of the poisonous plants covering the ground, and pulled her phone out of her shorts pocket. “I’m calling 911.”

“You just sat in poison ivy,” he ground out, lifting his head again and biting the inside of his cheek to keep from adding idiot. He was pretty sure he owed her one. But on the other hand, he also needed some help here.

“It doesn’t bother me. I never get it.” She raked her fingers through her hair as she spoke to emergency services, relating what she believed happened, making him sound like a colossal dumbass as she speculated to the dispatcher that she thought he might have shot himself.

“I didn’t shoot myself,” he said as loudly as he could, given he’d dropped his face back on the ground because even the slightest movement sent red-hot fire through his leg and up into his thigh.

“Yeah, he says he’s not shot, but his leg . . . man, it’s pretty awful. Not bleeding too badly, but there’s a sharp piece of a stick stuck in his calf and his shin’s broken for sure”—she gulped—“I can see the bone. No, no, I won’t touch it. God, no!” She looked down at him. “What’s your address?”

He moaned, his mind a blank.

“It’s on Fourth Street behind Sudbury’s Nursery. Maybe the 2900 block?” she said into her phone.

“It’s 2917,” Joe managed.

“It’s 2917,” she repeated for the dispatcher, paused to listen, then asked, “What’s your name?”

“Joe Walker.” That came out stronger, but the effort exhausted him.

“Oh, crap! Joey? Joey Walker?” She bent her head to peer down at him, and her eyes, which were an unusual golden-brown color, were huge.

Nan Reinhardt is a USA Today bestselling author of sweet, small-town romantic fiction for Tule Publishing. Her day job is working as a freelance copyeditor and proofreader, however, writing is Nan’s first and most enduring passion. She can’t remember a time in her life when she wasn’t writing—she wrote her first romance novel at the age of ten and is still writing, but now from the viewpoint of a wiser, slightly rumpled, woman in her prime. Nan lives in the Midwest with her husband of 51 years, where they split their time between a house in the city and a cottage on a lake. Talk to Nan at: nan@nanreinhardt.com.

The Dusty Baker and Book #5 by Joe DeRozier

So, book 5, "The Pond and Wet Clothes...I Can't Stop Smelling Them", will be coming out soon in its usual mediums, and I'm pretty excited.

Every time I get Mellanie Szereto (a REAL author) to go over my scribbles, set up my cover, and arrange the publishing of my next book, I get excited because I feel it's the best one I've done.

To be perfectly honest, I'm almost done with book #9 (that has to scare the bejeebers out of you) and I feel each one is better than the previous one.

Starting with book 5, there is going to be a surprise.

... well, it would have been a surprise, but I'm just going to blurt it out because I want to write about it.

I know this isn't going to change the world or anything...

...but, in addition to an ebook, a paperback, and hardcover, it's going to be offered in Audiobook.

The first thing I was asked by my kids when I told them, was "Are you reading it?"

Oh heck no.

I read one of my stories for a commercial a couple years ago, and they made me re-record it several times.

It was explained to me that I talk funny. Apparently, you can take the boy out of Wisconsin, but it's tough to get that Wisconsin accent out of the boy.

Another thing is that I tend to go rogue when I read one of my scribbles out loud.

I'll follow along for a line or two, and then disregard the script and just start telling my story off the cuff. Inevitably, I'll stumble onto a better way to tell it, and I'll want to rewrite my entire book.

If you've met me and had the displeasure of having to hear one of my stories firsthand, you know I can get pretty animated. I have different voices, I speed up for certain parts and slow down for dramatic pauses.

It's a show...

...a terrible, never ending, show...

So wisdom dictated that it was best to get a professional.

So, my people (ok, ok, "my people" is Mellanie) got hold of her people, (Jocqueline M Protho) and I signed with a company that introduced different voices.

There were decisions to make right off the bat.

Male or female?

One narrator doing the whole book or different readers for different stories?

I was given a sample size of eight different people.

All the voices were professional and articulate, and while they were good at reading a serious story, I didn't know if it would necessarily translate to a funny one.

And none of them sounded like the voices I hear in my head when I'm writing the stories...

...no kidding. I hear my stories as I write them.

Each auditioning talent gave me two samples, and then I had to decide who the very unlucky person would be that would have to read and repeat aloud (word by excruciating word) my entire book.

I tried sending the samples to my family to get their opinion, but most wouldn't even open their emails once they learned what it contained...

...and I can't be mad at them.

Phil Thron was finally selected, and I convinced (conned) a couple very good friends to listen to the final product in order to correct any mispronunciations of the many words I've created (blame the voices in my head for those).

Cindy Mullet, who wrote the intro, and Brenda Henderson, a good friend from Logansport, were the two poor souls I talked into helping.

Both Cindy and Brenda would listen to a few stories, then message me to say how great Phil's inflections were.

After listening to hours of my musings, these two martyrs are recovering nicely. Please continue to pray for them as they sit curled up in rocking chairs with blankets over their heads, weeping uncontrollably.

I don't even read my own stuff, so listening to it had been off the table for me, but Brenda insisted that I listen to a couple stories, and I have to say...

... I'm hilarious!

The finished product will be a great gift for a mother-in-law that you can't stand...

... a jerky boss,

...a co-worker who you dislike but have to get a birthday gift for,

...a crappy neighbor,

...or someone going on a long drive that you don't want to ever come back.

Prison systems could pipe it throughout their compound, making inmates repent, and reconsider their life choices...

Detention rooms in school can use it as a punishment...

Moms can play it in the rooms of their toddlers who were put in "time-out". (A guarantee of an instant attitude adjustment, but I can't be sure if there wouldn't be CPS repercussions)...

Ukraine can blare it over big speakers aimed at Russia to acquire an unconditional surrender...

Now that I think about it...

...maybe it will change the world...

You can get all of my books, and pre-order the latest one at:

Joederozierbooks.com

Or

(Tales From Behind the Bakery Door) https://a.co/d/g1xV1P4

Christmas in River's Edge by Nan Reinhardt

I can’t imagine doing a book release without my bestie, Liz. She’s my support, my best critic, my cheerleader, and my kindred spirit, so I’m delighted to spend a moment or two here at the Window Over the Sink to tell you about Christmas in River’s Edge—book 3 in the Weaver Sisters trilogy.

When Tule asked me if I could include a Christmas story in the Weaver Sisters trilogy, I wanted to make sure it included a child, so of course, Jenny’s story became the holiday romance. Jenny’s eight-year-old son Luke steals the show in this book, and he comes from my own Grandboy who is eleven now and continues to steal my heart every time I see him. Luke is small, big-hearted, charming, full of curiosity, and not terribly athletic, but gifted in other ways. Luke’s dad, Tuff, is an alcoholic who’s created a lot of problems for Jenny and Luke, but throughout the story, there is no question how much he loves his son. It was important to me—perhaps because I came from a divorced home and had an absent father—that no matter what Tuff’s personal issues were, Luke always knew his Dad loved him without reservation.

Jenny worries about bringing another man into their lives, but archeologist and professor, Gabe Dawson is exactly what she and Luke need. He is warm and kind and fun, and he respects the boundaries Jenny must set because she is a single mom with an ex-husband very much in the picture. Gabe’s relationship with Luke is exactly right—he doesn’t want to take Tuff’s place, but he discovers he can love Luke like a son and be there for him and Jenny without interfering in the father/son relationship that Luke and Tuff share. I think that’s a hard thing, as all family dynamics are, but Gabe navigates it all with dignity, which is why he one of my very favorite characters in River’s Edge.

Is there redemption for Tuff? Maybe…that remains to be seen. But Jenny, Luke, and Gabe become a family, and isn’t family what we celebrate at the holidays? I hope you enjoy coming home for Christmas in River’s Edge.

❄❄❄❄ Blurb ❄❄❄❄

You can go home again…

After a painful divorce from her high school sweetheart, triplet Jenny Weaver returns to River’s Edge with her young son. While happy to be reunited with her sisters and working at the family’s marina, she has no intention of jumping into the dating pool, especially going into the holidays. Then Gabe Dawson, once a shy nerd who tutored her in history classes, arrives home transformed into a handsome hunk who makes her pulse race.

Archeologist and history professor Gabe Dawson thought he’d long ago outgrown his teen crush on Jenny. Back in town for a few months to help his mom post surgery, he can’t resist reaching out to Jenny. She’s as beautiful, warm, and funny as he remembered and soon Gabe is reconsidering his future.

Gabe is determined to seize this second chance, but can he convince a very wary Jenny that a globe-trotter is ready to come home for good this Christmas?

Buy links:

https://amzn.to/3oNOTzT

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/christmas-in-rivers-edge-nan-reinhardt/1143614722

https://books.apple.com/us/book/christmas-in-rivers-edge/id6450019800?itsct=books_box_link&itscg=30200&ls=1

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/christmas-in-river-s-edge

https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Nan_Reinhardt_Christmas_in_River_s_Edge?id=9YjYEAAAQBAJ&hl=en_US&gl=US

❄❄❄❄ Bio, Social Links for Author Nan Reinhardt ❄❄❄❄

Nan Reinhardt is a USA Today bestselling author of sweet, small-town romantic fiction for Tule Publishing. Her day job is working as a freelance copyeditor and proofreader, however, writing is Nan’s first and most enduring passion. She can’t remember a time in her life when she wasn’t writing—she wrote her first romance novel at the age of ten and is still writing, but now from the viewpoint of a wiser, slightly rumpled, woman in her prime. Nan lives in the Midwest with her husband of 50 years, where they split their time between a house in the city and a cottage on a lake.

Talk to Nan at: nan@nanreinhardt.com

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Tule Publishing | BookBub | Goodreads | linktree

Band of Brothers by Cheryl Reavis

It is no secret that Cheryl Reavis, besides being a RITA award winner--four times--and a nominee several others, is one of my favorite writers. Like many from our generation, she has a soft spot for soldiers. What better time than Memorial Day to share that one of her best, Band of Brothers, is available for a limited time (June 1-15) for 99 cents. If you haven't read it before, don't miss this chance. If you have read it, go ahead and read it again--it'll be good for your heart. - Liz

Band of Brothers 

by Cheryl Reavis

Sergeant Joshua Caven: Josh finally has his shattered personal life in some kind of order—until Chris Young, the living, breathing reason his wife abandoned him and their baby, is assigned to his unit.

Corporal Danny Benton: He just wants to be the best Marine he can be and to come home and marry his girl. He has no reason to think she won’t wait for him—until the Dear John letter arrives.

Hospital Corpsman Chris Young: An encounter with local hostiles goes horribly wrong, and both he and Josh are wounded. The guilt is eating him up. Because Josh is in the hospital, fighting for his life—all because he saved Chris’s.

Excerpt:

“I’m older than you are,” Emerald said for no reason whatsoever, as far as he could tell.

He frowned. “Where are we going with this?”

“Absolutely nowhere. I just wanted you to understand why.”

“Well, you might be older than I am in years, but not in living.”

“Afghanistan put some age on you, did it?”

He didn’t say anything until she reached for her purse.

“Yeah. That’s where I learned war wasn’t a video game.”

He stood up then and headed for the cash register at the end of the bar. Unfortunately, Cricket was manning it—not that the alternative would have been any better. At least one good thing had happened tonight. He now knew the Tiffany Boat had definitely sailed, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass that it had.

“What?” he said because Cricket was making no attempt to take the money he was holding out.

“You know you don’t have to pay, if you’re with Emerald.” There was just enough emphasis on the word “with.” Danny heard it, in spite of the music.

“Yeah, I do.” He shoved the money and the check at him, and this time Cricket took it.

“I think I know your old man.”

Great.

“Let me guess. He’s a regular.”

“He was. For a while.”

“Before he got banned, you mean.”

Cricket gave a small maybe-yes, maybe-no shrug. “You’re not planning on fooling around with Tiffany and Emerald both, are you? You’ve got a wide open field with Tiffany. I’m supposed to ask you if you’re going to call her.”

“Tiffany left my dog tied to a porch post and took off with another guy while I was deployed. What do you think?”

He didn’t expect Cricket to laugh, but he did. A throw-back-your-head-and-howl kind of laugh that turned heads all over the Humoresque.

“You’re all right, kid,” Cricket said, handing him his change. “Hey!” he called as Danny turned to go. “How’s the dog?”

“Fine. Emerald’s got him.”

* * *

“WHAT DID YOU DO to Cricket?’

“Nothing, why?”

“He laughed. Cricket never laughs.”

“Now there’s a surprise.”

“No, really. What?”

“He wanted to know if I was going to be fooling around with you and Tiffany both.”

“He what?”

“You heard me, Ms. Eades. I told him what Tiffany did to poor old Killer George, and he laughed.”

“He actually wanted to know if you were going to be fooling around with both of us?”

“He did.”

“And what did you say to that?”

“Well, I couldn’t say anything about you. Not until I know.”

“I know I’m going to regret asking, but know what?”

“If it’s all me and nothing from you.”

“That’s about the size of it.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Because you don’t know for sure, either. Which is why I want to kiss you. Now.”

“What?”

“Ms. Eades, I know you heard that. Ordinarily, I don’t go around wanting to kiss old ladies—which, compared to me, is apparently what you think you are. I want to kiss you. So I’ll know. Because I’ll always wonder if I don’t.”

She was looking at him. And frowning.

“Again. I want to kiss you—and I don’t want you to rush me while I’m doing it. I can’t tell anything if I rush.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah. Stand still and don’t hit me, especially in my right arm. You think you can do that?”

“I…probably could, yes.”

“So we’re good to go, then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

URL: AMAZON: https://tinyurl.com/yccqdux4

Cheryl Reavis is a former public health nurse and an award-winning published author of short stories and book-length contemporary and historical fiction. Her short stories have appeared in a number of “little magazines” such as THE CRESCENT REVIEW, SANSKRIT, THE BAD APPLE, THE EMRYS JOURNAL, and the Greensboro Group’s statewide competition anthology, WRITER’S CHOICE. Her contemporary romance novel, A CRIME OF THE HEART, won the coveted Romance Writers of America RITA Award for Best Short Contemporary Romance the year it was published and reached millions of readers in GOOD HOUSEKEEPING Magazine. She has won the RITA Award four times and is a four-time RITA finalist. PUBLISHERS WEEKLY described her contemporary women’s fiction novel, PROMISE ME A RAINBOW, as “…an example of delicately crafted, eminently satisfying romantic fiction….” In 2018, her novel, THE MARINE, won the EPIC eBook Award for Best Contemporary Fiction.

Down Memory "Lane" with Donna Cronk #WriterMonday

Forty-six years ago this spring, I graduated from Union County High School in east-central Indiana. Since then, a small cedar chest has gone with me everywhere I’ve lived. It remains a minor player on my heirloom roster, yet it hasn’t strayed far, and I’ve never considered ditching it.

Sometimes I keep it inside a nightstand where it rounds up odds and ends such as a packet of tissues; a pen and notepad, a tube of hotel hand cream. Other times it roosts on a closet shelf, sheltering back-up pairs of glasses.

Inside the hinged lid is a stamp:

Lane presented by
Trading Post & Guttman’s
Connersville, Indiana.

I don’t remember the moment I received it, or even how; only that it’s a high school graduation gift from the sponsors listed under the lid.

Until this spring, I’ve never mentioned the box to anyone. I wonder how many women have these keepsakes and if the topic brings back memories—especially during this season of high school graduations.

I floated the topic on social media and learned quickly it’s a subject that draws interest. And wooden-box envy, or at least some joking/not joking about it. A classmate posted said that I must be favored somehow because she never got one. Others chimed in that they didn’t receive the gifts, either, and wonder all these years later what’s up with that.

Someone in a class three years behind mine said she didn’t get one. She connected the dots between a classmate two years my senior who posted that she is a recipient. The non-recipient woman guessed that receiving one had to do with being in a particular organization. Good guess, but nope.

A little research shows that the box giveaways were part of a national advertising effort known as Lane Furniture’s Girl Graduate Plan. Boxes weren’t delivered to the schools and passed out with handshakes on a stage, nor was any merit involved. Graduating girls received certificates entitling them to the gifts by presenting the paperwork to the sponsoring retailer.

My guess is that graduates who didn’t think they got them in fact did get the certificates but those went unnoticed nor redeemed.

I have no memory of picking up the box. But I did land my first-ever full-time job in Connersville that summer. Maybe I dropped by a sponsoring store then and picked it up. More than likely, though, my mother got it for me.

New Castle, Indiana girls received their boxes, at least during one period in the 1970s, from Holthouse Furniture.

The promotion had a long run, from 1925 to 2004, with sponsoring businesses throughout the country. Girls and possibly their mothers would visit the stores, and while there, likely looked over the larger versions, the popular hope chests that were staples of the Lane Furniture Co.

The hope chests were meant as a place for a girl or young woman to deposit pretty linens, dishes, silverware, and on a more ethereal level, her hopes and dreams for finding Mr. Right and setting up a home.

What a brilliant advertising ploy: many of the girls would soon be homemakers and consumers. They would remember the furniture store that bequeathed them the gifts when the time came to furnish their homes.

When I mentioned the chests on social media, responses flooded in from women who came of age in different decades, Hoosiers, and non-Hoosiers alike, and almost all of them still have their miniature chests.

Commenting on the post were women I’ve been social media friends with for years but who never weigh in or publicly say anything on my posts. Somehow this topic hit home. Some even took the time to photograph their boxes and post them.

What’s kept inside the boxes? A bracelet collection; high school memorabilia; tea, pictures. Two said their husbands use them for storage.

What’s inside mine is rather dull to report: sample-size hotel hand lotions, lip balms, and a pair of socks for cold feet at bedtime.

The chests posted on my page appear identical to mine, only with different sponsors, depending on their locations. But an online look at a vintage miniature cedar chest reminds me of something I had long forgotten: Mom had one like it, a little bigger, with decorative hardware to resemble a pirate’s chest.

I don’t know what happened to it and that’s fine—I don’t long for it. Just curious.

If you’re a mother or grandmother with such a chest tucked away, it might be fun to gift it to a graduating daughter or granddaughter and tell her its story. Of course, a check or gift card tucked inside might be appreciated more in the short run.

But in the long run? The card will be long forgotten over time while that useful little chest may still be with them when they are grandmothers.

For more about these treasures, visit: lanecedarbox.com.

Donna Cronk lives at Pendleton, Indiana with her husband of 44 years. She's author of three books, including a memoir: There's a Clydesdale in the Attic: Reflections on Keeping and Letting Go.

She is also author of two inspirational novels: Sweetland of Liberty Bed & Breakfast and its sequel, That Sweet Place: At Home in the Heartland. All three books are available on Amazon.

A retired newspaper reporter and section editor, Donna spent 37 years working for Indiana newspapers. She now pens a column for several newspapers and enjoys providing programs about heirlooms and creative ways to keep and give them away. If interested, contact her at newsgirl.1958@gmail.com, see her author page at Author Donna Cronk or visit her website, donnacronk.com.

The Best Advice by Laurie Beach

Welcome Tule Publishing author Laurie Beach to the Window today!

It was a summer day in Bakersfield, California. Red and purple drops of melted Otter Pops dotted my patio, inviting ants. My three grumpy, sweaty kids clamored to walk down to the pool again, to splash around for the second time on that sweltering day. I suggested an indoor craft project, willing to take on a sticky, glittery mess in order to stay inside with the air conditioning. One child was game, one insisted on swimming, and the other was in a fighting mood and fully prepared to loudly dash anyone’s plans, especially mine.

When my husband came home, in those days around 6:30 pm, I forced myself to smile at him. It wasn’t easy. All I wanted was for him to see on my face how hard the day had been, how exhausted I was. He changed clothes, and it was time for dinner and a show. There was always some sort of singing, dancing or shenanigans for our nightly entertainment, or exasperation, depending on how we looked at it.

Kindergarten was starting in the Fall, and with my twins in school, I would, for the first time in seven years, have time to myself during the day. I was looking forward to getting the grocery shopping done without little ones hungry for everything, and to taking a shower without worrying about what they were doing. I was about to fill those free hours with duties. But my husband saw the bigger picture. “You are being given the gift of time,” he said. “Do with it something that you’ve always wanted to do.”

I didn’t see the brilliance in his pronouncement at the time, but I do now. First, doing something for yourself is self-care. Moms need to incorporate this into their busy lives. It’s important. Second, having an artistic outlet is really good for our mental health. And third, by creating something and using one of my gifts, I found an identity outside of being a wife and mother. I was a writer. I needed that.

Thanks to my husband, my writing journey began fifteen years ago. This week, that book from fifteen years ago, the one I revised a million times, the one that healed my soul, launched into the world. What I feared was a massive waste of time turned out to be one of my greatest joys. And, lucky me, two more books will be launched in the next several months.

My advice to you is: Find the time to do something you love. Make your creative self a priority. Who knows what will happen when you do something you’ve always dreamt of doing? Maybe something great. Maybe something life-changing. Definitely something worthwhile.

Laurie Beach is a former news reporter, advertising producer, and political press secretary who, after raising four children, is parlaying her love of reading and writing into a career as an author. She is a sucker for elderly people, grumpy animals, and happy endings. Having grown up in Alabama, she loves novels set in the South. Laurie now lives in California with her husband and their spoiled old dog.

Website: https://www.lauriebeach.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/laurie.beach.14855

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/beachauthor/

Amazon Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Laurie-Beach/author/B0BCCPGMH7?ref=ap_rdr&store_ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true

A Promise Fulfilled by Peggy Jaeger #WriterMonday

Ghosts of New England: Last Light Point

Book #4

A Promise Fulfilled

by Peggy Jaeger 

Late October, Present Day

After winning millions in a national lottery, local librarian Daisy Morgan sets out to revitalize the infamous Crow’s Nest Tavern. After saving the historic inn from the auction block, Daisy begins a major renovation only to discover some hidden secrets – and a few unearthly spirits – tied to the tavern’s history.

Writer Keegan Warren arrives to do a story on the revitalization of the tavern weeks before the grand re-opening. Keegan’s got a few secrets of his own about why he wanted the assignment – secrets that unfold no matter how diligently he tries to keep them hidden.

With Daisy’s help, he unearths a centuries old murder tied to his family’s past. As they investigate, their mutual attraction grows. But will their budding relationship suffer when the truth is discovered?

Universal Purchase Link: https://books2read.com/LLPoint 

The Crowe’s Nest Tavern stood at the sharpest jut of land on Last Light Point and had weathered several hundred years of New England storms and tempests, dozens of owners, and a history that dated from before the birth of the nation. Daisy wasn’t about to let that history go the way of the dinosaur on her watch.

Her critical eye for detail roamed around the room taking in all the updates done, while keeping the original feel of the old tavern alive.

The establishment had been up for auction for a year, the previous owner dying without ever making provisions for its sale. Daisy, as head of the historical society, had tried valiantly to get it listed as a protected historical site. The fact the structure had stood for over three hundred years should have qualified it outright, but her attempts fell on deaf legislative ears. The bank, who owned the mortgage, had put it up for sale. When no buyer came forth, they placed it on the auction block. Daisy was terrified it was going to be sold and subsequently knocked down. When an outside developer expressed interest in the property and the rest of the boardwalk to build upscale condos, Daisy had gone into fight mode to block his every attempt.

Just when it looked like her struggle would prove futile, several prayers and one stroke of heaven-sent luck had come her way and she’d been able to purchase the building and, with it, the leases for the remaining shops on the boardwalk.

Unexpectedly flush with disposable cash, Daisy spared no expense to bring the tavern back to its long ago beauty.

If you could call its twisted history beautiful, she thought. She supposed the sight where pirates and thieves hung out and where they were, subsequently, hung or placed into the dreaded gibbet and left to rot for all the citizenry to gawk over, could be classified as historically significant, if not pretty.

Oh, she wished she could have seen it in its heyday. Filled to the rafters with brigands and soldiers and sailors all stopping for a pint and some grub to fill their bellies. Buxom serving girls bustling about, filling tankards, listening to tall tales of sea monsters and hidden treasure; of mermaids and sirens and Davy Jones’ Locker.

Daisy sighed, her imagination running rampant as it always did when she thought of the tavern’s history. Her gaze traveled to the mirror Cooper’s crew had discovered in the basement when they’d begun shoring up the ancient walls. Covered with a black tarp and decades of dust, they’d uncovered it and immediately called her.

“It’s wicked old,” Cooper said as he accompanied her to the tavern’s underground level. “And worth a fortune, I’m thinking. That frame’s real gold. I’d bet the house on it.”

Daisy stooped to inspect the mirror. Cooper’s eye was good, because the frame was genuine gold and decorated with a filigree pattern on all four sides. About five feet wide and three quarters of that in width, the glass was murky with age and dust. She could barely make out her reflection.

“I bet it hung on the wall behind the bar,” she mused. “Take it upstairs and put it in my office. I’ll call Mrs. Cashman over at the antiques store to come over and take a look at it. She should know how to clean it, too, to bring it back to life.”

“What are you planning to do with it?” Cooper asked.

“Put it where I’m sure it used to hang: back up behind the bar.”

Cooper cupped his neck and shook his head. “It weighs a ton, kid. Mounting and securing it’s gonna be a nightmare.”

“I’m sure you’ll do your best.” She swiped at the dust collecting on her jeans and stood. A momentary wave of vertigo over took her, making her sway. Cooper’s hand shot out in an instant to clasp her upper arms right before she dropped to the floor.

“Easy,” he said. “You okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” She swiped at the sweat suddenly covering her brow. “I missed breakfast,” she lied, shaking her head of the subtle hum ringing through it. She hadn’t felt this sensation in too many years to remember. Not since…she clucked her tongue and shoved the memory down. “I’ll go call the antique shop.”

Now, as she stood in front of the cleaned and polished mirror, the glass just slightly milky from age, she smiled. And, now that she knew what it really was, she could admit a small amount of anxiety about hanging it behind the bar. So far, none of the workmen or staff had commented on anything…strange, about the piece. And thank goodness for that. That it looked perfect hanging there was a minor consolation.

About the Anthology – 4 Complete Books, 4 Authors

GHOSTS OF NEW ENGLAND: LAST LIGHT POINT

A Multi-Century Romance Anthology

from Best Selling & Award Winning Authors

Can true love conquer a deadly curse?

Don’t look at the gibbet… Legend has it that disaster will strike all those who do. The townspeople of Last Light Point have come to respect the centuries-old advice. Those that didn’t, paid the price.

4 stories – 4 time periods – 1 very haunted tavern in New England!

A new romance anthology unlike any other from 4 best-selling and award-winning authors.

· The Pirate’s Promise by Lisa A. Olech (Autumn 1728)

· Smoke and Mirrors by Kathryn Hills (Autumn 1867)

· For the Love of Grace by Nancy Fraser (Fall 1941)

· A Promise Fulfilled by Peggy Jaeger (Late October, Present Day)

PEGGY JAEGER writes contemporary romances and rom coms about strong women, the families who support them, and the men who can’t live without them.

Family and food play huge roles in Peggy’s stories because she believes there is nothing that holds a family structure together like sharing a meal…or two…or ten. Dotted with humor and characters that are as real as they are loving, Peggy brings all aspects of life into her stories: life, death, sibling rivalry, illness, and the desire for everyone to find their own happily ever after. Growing up the only child of divorced parents she longed for sisters, brothers and a family that vowed to stick together no matter what came their way. Through her books, she has created the families she wanted as that lonely child.

As a lifelong diarist, she caught the blogging bug early on, and you can visit her at peggyjaeger.com where she blogs daily about life, writing, and stuff that makes her go "What??!"

Website/Blog: http://peggyjaeger.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/peggy_jaeger
Amazon Author page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00T8E5LN0
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Peggy-Jaeger-Author/825914814095072?ref=bookmarks
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tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@peggyjaegerauthor

For the Love of Grace by Nancy Fraser #WriterMonday

Ghosts of New England: Last Light Point

Book #3

For the Love of Grace

by Nancy Fraser

Fall, 1941

Grace O’Hearn and her father have lived in Last Light Point since before the ’29 stock market crash that took so much from so many. Still, somehow, they managed to keep afloat, often lending a hand to those in dire need.

Now—many years later—things are finally picking up again. So much so, the tavern is a much-coveted piece of property. When Grace’s father is brutally murdered, the main suspect is a property developer who’s been harassing all the waterfront proprietors. With her father’s death, Grace now becomes the sole owner of The Crowe's Nest Tavern, an establishment that dates back centuries, and comes with its own set of resident ghosts.

When FBI agent, Max Stewart, is assigned to investigate suspected racketeering and police corruption in Last Light Point, the last thing he expects is to be caught up in a murder investigation. When he first meets Grace, he’s convinced she’s hiding something. Yet, her keen insight about the town, and everyone in it, may be the best lead he has.

Can they work together to solve both investigations? Or, will an attraction neither of them can deny keep getting in the way?

Universal Purchase Link: https://books2read.com/LLPoint

Grace put four place settings on each of the six tables in the main dining area. Not that she was expecting a crowd, but it never hurt to be prepared. She and Aggie, her cook, would eat in the kitchen in between customers.

It had rained lightly during the afternoon and the early evening remained overcast. The foul weather would, most likely, curtail tourists. With any luck, a few of the locals would wander in. Especially, given it was Thursday, and that meant Aggie’s famous pork stew and dumplings.

Grace was on her way back to the service area to grab water glasses when her newest guest appeared in the doorway.

“Mr. Stew... um... Max. I hope you found your room satisfactory.”

“Yes, thank you. The view out over the water is striking when the sun begins to set.”

“The sunrise is just as beautiful,” she told him. “Can I offer you a drink before dinner? We have special pricing in the dining room.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to a scotch on the rocks,” he responded.

“One scotch coming up. Take a seat anywhere. As you can see, we’re not crowded.”

“I take it business has been slow since... well...”

“Business was ‘slow’ before my father was killed. Now, it’s almost non-existent.”

“I’m sure the hubbub will die down, and your customers will return.”

“We have one busy tourist season left these next couple of weeks,” she explained. “With the change of season, we’ll get those who find it interesting to watch the leaves turn color. For whatever reason, they come in droves.”

“They do the same in other countries,” Max said. “In Japan, it’s called momijigari, or red leaf hunting. In Finland, it’s ruskaretki.”

“You’ve traveled a lot,” she surmised.

“I did a four-year stint with the military police before joining the bureau in 1935. During my time overseas, we covered a lot of countries shepherding diplomats and politicians.”

“I’ve never been anywhere but here.”

“You grew up in Last Light Point?” he asked.

“Technically, I grew up north of here in Mystic Point, just off Skullery Bay. We moved here when my uncle retired and sold the tavern to my father for next to nothing.”

“Why so cheap?”

“It was 1928. Prohibition was still in effect, and there wasn’t much ‘business’ to the business. Had it not been for the boarders, and the dining, we’d have not even tried to make a go of it.”

“It must have been rough.”

“Not at first. When my mother passed away a few years earlier, she left my father some family money. Pops was always good with finances, but he didn’t trust banks. When the stock market crashed, a lot of our friends back home went belly up. A few took their own lives. It was horrible. We were able to hold on because of his frugal ways. We never once tossed out a boarder, even if they couldn’t pay.” 

GHOSTS OF NEW ENGLAND: LAST LIGHT POINT

A Multi-Century Romance Anthology

from Best Selling & Award Winning Authors

Can true love conquer a deadly curse?

Don’t look at the gibbet… Legend has it that disaster will strike all those who do. The townspeople of Last Light Point have come to respect the centuries-old advice. Those that didn’t, paid the price.

4 stories – 4 time periods – 1 very haunted tavern in New England!

A new romance anthology unlike any other from 4 best-selling and award-winning authors.

· The Pirate’s Promise by Lisa A. Olech (Autumn 1728)

· Smoke and Mirrors by Kathryn Hills (Autumn 1867)

· For the Love of Grace by Nancy Fraser (Fall 1941)

· A Promise Fulfilled by Peggy Jaeger (Late October, Present Day)

  

NANCY FRASER is a bestselling and award-winning author who can’t seem to decide which romance genre suits her best. So, she writes them all.

Her spicy romances have won top awards year after year and received cover quotes from some of the most recognized names in the romance industry. Named 2021 Canadian Author of the Year by N.N. Light’s Book Heaven, she refuses to rest on her laurels and keeps at it daily.

When not writing (which is almost never), Nancy dotes on her five wonderful grandchildren, and looks for ways to avoid housework. Nancy lives in Atlantic Canada where she enjoys the relaxed pace and colorful people.

Blog: https://notesfromaromanticsheart.blogspot.com/

Facebook: http://facebook.com/nancyfraserauthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/RomWriterNancy

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Nancy-Fraser/e/B004AOL61Y/

Bookbub: http://bookbub.com/profile/nancy-fraser

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