I’m thrilled to introduce you to the beautiful cover of my newest PG-rated love story, coming in early August from Champagne Books. Champagne also published Inn by the Lake, and The Last Gift. Fearless Summer, Return to Chincoteague, is set in the summer resort town of Chincoteague, within view of the wild ponies made famous…
What are you reading on these fine spring days? I’ve been having the best time, sighing and laughing as I make my way through some of the best romances I’ve read in a long time. I binged on Bridgerton—you’ve heard of the Netflix/Shondaland series, right?—and then sat down with all of Julia Quinn‘s books upon…
Reena and Paul have been part of my daily routine for a long time. I don’t remember when I first started setting down their story but it’s been at least a year or more since I first met them in my imagination. Today, I had to say good-bye. It wasn’t tearful. I sent their story…
Typing those little words is a sad moment. Sure it’s an accomplishment. It means months of imagining, pondering, creating and general wood-burning are over and a story is finished. Even though I have a revision to do, my characters have come to their very happy ending. I’m cheering for them. Naturally. But I find I’m…
Now I am delighted to announce FEARLESS SUMMER, THE RETURN TO CHINCOTEAGUE will be published by Champagne Book Group in digital form this summer with a paperback version ready for summer 2023.
E.Elizabeth Watson has made me swoon again. The arid hills of West Texas bloom with love and passion in her newest contemporary love story, THE COWBOY’S TEXAS ROSE.
It wasn’t until I wrote my list down that I realized every book was written by a woman. I did read books by men—but these were my favorites for the year. They took me away from covid and other troubles. They made me feel strongly about strong characters. They took me to new places and old places, places I’d never see if not for these authors.
Thank you all for writing them.
Pyotr took my hand and we walked slowly back to our shelf to witness the family’s holiday. At the dining room doorway, he stopped and looked up.
“Do you know what that is?” he asked
All I could see was a sprig of greenery with a red bow. “Holly? Ivy?”
“No, it’s mistletoe.”
I fluttered my wings only once and I was airborne. Rising above the manger scene, clutching Cecilia’s guitar, I was both exhilarated and terrified.
strode to the angel’s side and bowed most formally. “Madam,” I said, emphasizing the deep tones in my voice. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, a nutcracker by birth and a nobleman who wears the uniform of my father in Russia.”