This post is for anyone who loves languarge--readers and writers alike. It’s also for anyone who’s jumped from the frying pan into the fire.  This  past year, I decided to stretch my wings with a completely new project. In addition to writing the proverbial “book of my heart” aka BOMH,  I started working with a critique partner. I’ve written fourteen books for Harlequin Historical and Love Inspired Historical, but I’ve always worked alone. I thought I was an experienced writer. I thought I knew how to plot a story. I thought I had a good ear for language. Oh. My. Goodness. When I finished the first draft of the BOMH, I shared a chapter with my best friend, an award winning author who really knows her stuff.  She had a few ideas.  Actually, more than a few. Every one of those ideas--from word choice to plot shifts--proved to be valuable. I didn’t realize it, but I’d fallen into a rut. Mentally I had incorporated every writing rule I’ve ever read, and that obedience had limited my voice. As we worked on that first chapter, I realized that my sentences lacked variety, and my diction wasn’t as precise as I thought.  Adverbs? Nope. G.O.N.E.. But there were places were an adverb would have been stunningly useful. Use a semi-colon?  Maybe, but aren’t they considered distracting?  Not always. Sometimes they’re the perfect link between two ideas. (I used one somewhere in the blog. Can you find it?) My CP and I have a lot of fun when we do a phone edit.  She’s big on strong verbs.  So am I, but my writing style is simpler. We had a good time playing with synonyms for “to walk.” This verb is particularly synonym-challenged. How many ways can you describe a person walking?  Here’s where my mind went in a moment of hair-pulling insanity:             Annoyed, he walked to the sliding glass door and looked out.             Annoyed, he scampered to the sliding glass door and looked out.             Annoyed, he marched to the sliding glass door...             Annoyed, he did the cha-cha to the sliding glass door . . .             Annoyed, he sidled to the sliding glass door …             Annoyed, he crawled to the sliding glass door …             Annoyed, he bunny-hopped to the sliding glass door …             Annoyed, he kicked like a Rockette to the sliding glass door …             Annoyed, he said, “Forget it! I’m not getting off the couch! My hero told me in no uncertain terms that if he wanted to walk, he’d walk. No way would he march, pace, amble, shamble, shuffle, waddle, toddle or kick like a Rockette.  He did consent to stride, but only after I convinced him I hadn’t used that word in the past two chapters.  At least he got off the couch! Now on to that happy ending . . .

 

Brides of the West is currently available at Amazon

Three years ago this month, my debut western historical romance, FIRE EYES, was published by The Wild Rose Press. I was thrilled! Finally, my dream had come true, with the help of a wonderful editor and publishing company. When I got my first box of books, I sat and gazed at the covers—just like any first time author would. My husband teased me about “rubbing off the paint”—but I was so proud of them, and justifiably so. A lot of very hard work had gone into that story, not just from my perspective, but also from many other people. My editor at The Wild Rose Press, Helen Andrew, was wonderful. She really explained in detail why certain things couldn’t stand and had to go or be changed. But part of what ‘had to go’ was important to the story, in my mind. Still, there were company guidelines to be followed, and neither of us could do anything about that. So we worked together to find a way to take out the parts that made it more “western” than “romance” and still came out with a fine story. However, this spring, I asked for my rights back for FIRE EYES and got them, and submitted the story to another small publisher who has an imprint for westerns and western romances.  I was able to re-edit the book and add in much of what I’d had to take out or rewrite in the first version, and it was released yesterday with a brand new Jimmy Thomas cowboy cover and lots of renewed interest. The e-book version is available now at Amazon, Lulu, Monkeybars and many other e-book retailers, and will become available soon at Barnes and Noble, Sony and Apple. Here are the links for Smashwords and Amazon: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/162817  http://www.amazon.com/Fire-Eyes-ebook/dp/B0083JYET8 The print version will become available within the week, and again, I’m very happy about breathing new life into this wonderful story. Once I am able to order my print copies, I’m sure I’ll sit on the floor and ‘rub the paint off’ again. And I’ll be grateful that I’ve had two chances to get my story out there—another thrill, a second time around! I'LL BE GIVING AWAY A COPY OF FIRE EYES TODAY! JUST LEAVE A COMMENT TO BE ENTERED IN THE DRAWING, ALONG WITH YOUR CONTACT INFO. EXCERPT FROM FIRE EYES: “You waitin’ on a…invitation?” A faint smile touched his battered mouth. “I’m fresh out.” Jessica reached for the tin star. Her fingers closed around the uneven edges of it. No. She couldn’t wait any longer. “What’s your name?” Her voice came out jagged, like the metal she touched. His bruised eyes slitted as he studied her a moment. “Turner. Kaedon Turner.” Jessica sighed. “Well, Kaedon Turner, you’ve probably been a lot better places in your life than this. Take a deep breath, and try not to move.” He gave a wry chuckle, letting his eyes drift completely closed. “Do it fast. I’ll be okay.” She nodded, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “Ready?” “Go ahead.” Even knowing what was coming, his voice sounded smoother than hers, she thought. She wrapped her hand tightly around the metal and pulled up fast, as he’d asked. As the metal slid through his flesh, Kaed’s left hand moved convulsively, his fingers gripping the quilt. He was unable to hold back the soft hint of an agonized groan as he turned away from her. He swore as the thick steel pin cleared his skin, freeing the chambray shirt and cotton undershirt beneath it, blood spraying as his teeth closed solidly over his bottom lip. Jessica lifted the material away, biting back her own curse as she surveyed the damage they’d done to him. His chest was a mass of purple bruises, uneven gashes, and burns. Her stomach turned over. She was not squeamish. But this— It was just like what they’d done to Billy, before they’d killed him. Billy, the last man the Choctaws had dumped on her porch. Billy Monroe, the man she’d come to loathe during their one brief year of marriage. She took a washrag from the nightstand and wet it in the nearby basin. Wordlessly, she placed her cool palm against Kaedon Turner’s stubbled, bruised cheek, turning his head toward her so she could clean his face and neck. She knew instinctively he was the kind of man who would never stand for this if it wasn’t necessary. The kind of man who was unaccustomed to a woman’s comforting caress. The kind of man who would never complain, no matter how badly wounded he was. “Fallon.” His voice was rough. Jessica stopped her movements and watched him. “What about him?” His brows drew together, as if he were trying to formulate what he wanted to say. “Is he…dead?” What should she tell him? The truth. “I—don’t know.” “Damn it.” “You were losing a lot of blood out there,” Jessica said, determined to turn his thoughts from Fallon to the present. She ran the wet cloth lightly across the long split in his right cheek. His breathing was controlled, even. “I took a bullet.” He said it quietly, almost conversationally. Jessica stopped moving. “Where?”

  

 

 

Mountain Man Logan St. John knew his town was no place for a woman.

 

Especially one who scrubs his buckskins; turns a bunch  of rough miners into

choirboys, and hangs curtains in the saloon!

 

I’m pleased to announce that one of my previously out-of-print books is now available.  To get your Kindle or iPad copy click the cover. 

 

 A Long Way Home takes place in a California mining town in 1850 and it’s always been one of my favorites.  Libby Summerfield is a new widow with a baby on the way and is desperately trying to get back home to Boston.  Unfortunately, she’s stuck in Deadman’s Gulch, the roughest, toughest town in gold country.  The book won many awards during its initial run and was awarded a hero K.I.S.S. award from RT.

 

I thought you might be interested in some of the fun facts about the Gold Rush I discovered while researching the book (hey, I gotta do something with all these notes):

  

• Gold was discovered at Sutter’s Mill in 1848.  Sutter wanted to keep the news quiet because he feared what would happen to his plans for an agricultural empire if word got out.  His fears were valid: As soon as the rush began, his workers left in search of gold and squatters invaded his land and stole his crops and cattle.

 

•  Getting to California was no easy task.  Forty-niners faced hardships and even death traveling to the gold fields.  It took as long as eight months to sail around South America. Some chose the alternative route which meant sailing to the Atlantic side of the Isthmus of Panama. They would then have to travel through the jungle to the Pacific and catch a ship bound for San Francisco.  Shipwrecks and typhoid fever were among the hazards travelers faced.

 

• Gold was worth $20.67 an ounce (that would be around $535 in today's market). That sounds like a lot given the times until you consider the cost of living.  During the gold rush years eggs cost three dollars each (yes each!).  Water could cost up to a hundred dollars per glass! And pills were ten dollars each without advice.

 

• In 1852, more than eighty-one million dollars worth of gold was taken from the Mother Lode.  Yields dropped after that, as gold became more difficult to mine.  Some miners got rich, but most returned home with less than what they started with.

 

• The old gold mining town now called Placerville was once named Hangtown for obvious reasons.

 

• The world’s second largest gold nugget—and California’s largest—weighed in at a hefty 160 pounds.  It was found in Carson Hill in Calaveras County in 1854

 

• In 1848, San Franciso’s population was a mere 1000. Two years later it had exploded to 25,000.  People lived in tents, shanties and ship cabins.

 

• The gold rush had a very negative effect on California Indians who were pushed off their land, attacked or enslaved as “diggers.”  Some claim that an estimated100,000  Indians lost their lives between 1848-1868.

 

• Forget about the old miner with the long beard.  Four-fifths of the forty-niners were youths between eighteen and thirty-five.

 

• According to the 1850 census, only two percent of the residents in mining counties were women. Females were either good or bad.  The first "good" woman to arrive in the mining town of Columbia, CA was greeted with a brass band parade.   Women had their pick of men.  One woman buried her husband one day and married the chief mourner the next. 

 

Speaking of gold, have you seen how much it's going for lately?    I recently took a bunch of broken gold chains into the jewelry store and came away with enough money to purchase a couple of glasses of water at 1850 prices. I'm about ready to try my hand at panning. What about you?   

 

 

To order the book everyone's talking about (okay, maybe not everyone) click on cover:

 

 

  It seems the most frequently asked question of a writer is where our stories come from. My first two published books - KNIGHT ON THE TEXAS PLAINS and THE COWBOY WHO CAME CALLING - came from real life experiences. I didn't know at the time why certain things happened and why I had to live through them. I didn't know that I was a writer-in-training and storing up all these life events for future stories.

The Story Behind Knight on the Texas Plains

When I was a child growing up, our family lived next door to a Latino couple. They had a daughter who was a few years older and we became playmates. I was around eight or nine years old. One day an ugly truth came to light and it affected me in a huge way. We learned that the neighbor's girl wasn't really theirs. The man had won her in a poker game and brought her to the U.S. illegally. He was really mean. He didn't work and stayed drunk all the time. He made life miserable for his wife and my friend. I began to wonder what her real father must've been like to have wagered his daughter in a poker game. Did she mean so little to him that he could give up his own flesh and blood so easily? I never got an answer to that. But it stayed with me, refusing to go away. That was long before I even knew I'd be a writer one day. I had a burning desire though to give Juanita the happiness that she was denied in life. I just didn't know how I'd do that. And then I became interested in writing fiction. I joined writing groups and learned how to put a story together and how to perfect my craft. A few years later, Knight on the Texas Plains was born. I knew I wanted to write a story about a child that was won in a poker game. I named her Marley Rose. Duel McClain is a down and out cowboy who'd just buried his wife and son. He's wandering from town from town, not caring about anything other than dying. So he sits in on a poker game and comes away with an innocent little girl to take care of. On his way back to where his parents lives, a woman stumbles into his camp. She's hungry and desperate. He strikes a deal with her-ride along and take care of Marley Rose just until he gets the child to his family and he'll take her anywhere she wants to go with no questions asked. Jessie Foltry agrees, only she doesn't count on the fact that Marley Rose and Duel would wiggle into her heart. All she's wanted for as long as she could remember is to be a mother. Holding the sweet baby in her arms forges an unbreakable bond. And the nights under the stars with Duel make her dream of things a woman like her can never have. Trusting Duel was the easy part…living without her knight on the Texas plains would be next to impossible. This book came out with Dorchester Publishing in 2002. It has recently been re-released as a Kindle e-book for $2.99. I'm so glad that readers who didn't get a chance to read it now have the opportunity.

The Story Behind The Cowboy Who Came Calling

During the writing of "Knight on the Texas Plains," I knew I had to write a story about Duel's brother, Luke. It seemed as natural as breathing. At the time I had just been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis and began losing my vision. One day I could see fairly well and the next I could see little more than shadows. It was one of the scariest times in my life. I didn't know how I could deal with being blind. I was a writer and I had many more books to write. In Luke's story he meets a woman named Glory Day. Glory is her family's sole support. Her father is in prison and her mother has sunk into a deep depression and she's developed an addiction for laudanum. Glory's vision begins to swiftly fade and she doesn't know how she'll provide for her mother and younger sisters if she can no longer see. But Luke isn't going to let her find out. He means to do whatever he has to do to help make Glory's life easier whether she gets as mad as a hornet or not. He'll risk life and limb for the woman he loved. And he does. Today, I'm happy to say that my vision has returned. Unlike Glory I never had to find out what permanent blindness was like. At least not yet. But it sure let me immerse myself fully in Glory's character. The Cowboy Who Came Calling was a 2003 release by Dorchester Publishing. It has recently come out again as a Kindle e-book and sells for the low price of $2.99. Have you ever dealt with something in your life and then found out much later the reason why such a thing happened? Or feel free to just talk about anything. I'm giving away a Kindle version of KNIGHT ON THE TEXAS PLAINS to two people who comment.

Wedding Season is upon us—time for a sneak peak at Harlequin’s new Spring Brides anthology.  WEDDINGS UNDER A WESTERN SKY, to be released later this month, combines three joyful novellas, written by Lisa Plumley, Kate Welsh and myself.  What a privilege to share a book with these two great authors! Today I’ll be giving away a free copy.  But first let me introduce you to my story, “The Hand-Me-Down Bride.”  Boston belle Arabella Spencer has followed her dream all the way to Montana, where her childhood sweetheart, Charles, will be waiting to make her his bride.  But Arabella has a few surprises in store.  Here’s an excerpt. Buffalo Bend, Montana April 29, 1876  Arabella Spencer huddled under the dripping eave of Brophy’s Feed and Mercantile where the stage had let her off with her trunk.  Rain had churned the deserted street into a quagmire of mud and manure.  The muck had ruined her new kidskin shoes and wasn’t doing much for her disposition.  After more than twenty minutes of waiting, she was wet, worried, and getting madder by the second.  Charles, her fiancé, had certainly known she was coming.  He’d mailed her the tickets three months ago, with a promise to meet the stage and drive her to his new ranch.  Only the thought of their wedding, and the fine home he’d refurbished especially for her, had sustained her on the grueling journey by train and stagecoach, all the way from Boston to Buffalo Bend.  Now she was here at last, bruised, chilled and bone-weary, with Grandma Peabody’s wedding dress packed into her trunk.   The bride had arrived.  So where was her groom?   True, the stage had been delayed two hours by a broken wheel.  But that was no excuse for him not to be here – especially given that she had no place to get out of the rain.  Brophy’s Feed and Mercantile, which appeared to be the only store in this ramshackle excuse for a town, had long since closed for the night.  There wasn’t a hotel in sight, or even a restaurant; and the church at the street’s far end looked as dark as a tomb.             Only the saloon across the street showed any sign of life.  Lamplight filtered through gray sheets of rain.  Occasional bursts of laughter and the wheeze of a concertina drifted over the drone of the storm.              Arabella shivered beneath her damp woolen traveling cloak.  The thought of shelter was tempting.  But she’d have to leave her precious trunk behind and wade through ankle-deep mud to cross the street.  In any case, well-bred young ladies simply did not venture into saloons - not even in a deluge fit to float Noah’s ark.             A flicker of movement across the street caught her eye.  Someone had just come out of the saloon.  Was it Charles?  Had he been waiting for her in that disreputable place?  But the man who stepped into the street was too tall and too broad-shouldered to be her fiancé.  Charles was of average stature.  The figure striding toward her, wearing a bulky sheepskin coat, loomed like a giant against the roiling sky.  Arabella shrank into the doorway.  If the man meant her harm, she’d have no place to run.  But she could kick and bite and scream for all she was worth.  If it came to that, she vowed, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.             He stopped a pace away from her.  Close up, he wasn’t as huge as she’d first thought.  But he was big enough - six-foot four, by her reckoning.  His face was obscured by rain streaming off the broad brim of his hat.             “Miss Arabella Spencer?”  His voice was like the rumble of an iron wheel over a graveled road.  “I was told to look for a redhead, so I’m guessing you’re the one.”             Staring up at him, she nodded.             “McIntyre’s the name.  I’ve come to fetch you to the ranch.  Wait here, and I’ll bring the buckboard around.”             He thrust something toward her.  Realizing it was an oilskin, Arabella seized it eagerly and wrapped it over her damp cloak.  Before she could utter a proper thank you, the man had melted into the rain.             Moments later he reappeared from behind the store, driving an open rig behind a team of sturdy bays.  The back was filled with some kind of bulky cargo covered by a canvas tarpaulin.  There was one bench seat in front, with nothing to shelter its occupants from the rain.             For heaven’s sake, if Charles couldn’t come himself, why couldn’t he at least have sent a covered buggy?             McIntyre halted the horses, climbed to the ground and came around the rig – a buckboard, he’d called it, though it was more like a wagon, drawn by two horses instead of one.  Hefting Arabella’s trunk as if it weighed nothing, he slid it under the canvas in back.               “Where’s my fiancé, Charles Middleton?” Arabella demanded.  “Is he all right?”             “Far as I know, he’s fine.”  McIntyre’s big hands caught her waist and boosted her onto the bench as if she were no bigger than a child.             “Then why didn’t he come to meet me?”              “Spring’s a busy time for ranchers.  I had to drive to town for feed and salt, so he asked me to pick you up.”  He climbed onto the bench beside her.  “It’s a long ride.  Too bad I hadn’t counted on the rain, or on the stage being late.”             As if that had been her fault!  “Well, at least you got to spend a couple of hours in the saloon,” she sniffed.             “Uh-huh.  Had a drink and won fifty dollars in a game of five-card stud.”  His hands flicked the reins.  The wagon ploughed forward through the sticky mud.             Struck by a sudden realization, she stared at him.  “Wait - you were in the saloon when the stage arrived.  You must’ve heard it stop, and you knew I’d be getting off.  Why on earth did you leave me standing outside in the rain?”             He shrugged.  “I was holding a royal flush.”             Is there an upcoming wedding in your family?  What’s your idea of the perfect wedding?  Readers who comment will be entered in a drawing for a free copy of WEDDINGS UNDER A WESTERN SKY.  

Aren’t moms wonderful? I have a lot of great memories of my mother. She homeschooled me and my siblings, so we spent a LOT of time together. She taught me how to ride a bike. Went on long walks with us (we lived on my granddad’s farm for about six years during my childhood). Inspired me with my love of dogs—she took me to purchase my first puppy at age 11. She girl-talked with me as a teenager, about boys and friends and growing up. She helped me get ready and gave me advice when I got married. She was there for me when my two children were born. Now that I’m a mom myself, I can understand more fully the incredible amounts of patience and love she shared with me and my siblings (and still does sometimes!). Yes, moms are special people, and their capacity for love is one of the things I tried to capture in THE HOMESTEADER’S SWEETHEART. Heroine Penny Castlerock is a social butterfly who mostly cares about her wardrobe and which event she’ll be attending next. Until she meets and falls in love with her grandfather’s next-door neighbor and his daughter and seven adopted sons. Penny is drawn to the kids who haven’t experienced much love in their lives, and she can’t help but open her heart to them—even though the boys can be rambunctious and ornery. Here’s an excerpt from the hero (Jonas White’s) Point-Of-View. In this scene from the middle of the book, he comes upon Penny talking to one of his sons: A peek through the doorway revealed Breanna curled up next to Penny on the sofa, head on the woman's lap, fast asleep. Maxwell was the only boy left in the room and sat against the wall facing Penny. Jonas suspected Davy and Ricky had snuck out to the barn to check on a new foal and the others had probably retired to their rooms for a rainy-day nap, a luxury they rarely got. "She's a real sweet gal. Helps her folks with their store, and keeps her little sisters." Jonas realized Maxwell was talking about a girl. His son had never expressed an interest in the fairer sex, at least not to Jonas, but this certainly sounded like admiration. "She sounds sweet. Do you know her, Jonas?" Maxwell looked up from his spot on the floor. Jonas stepped into the room, hoping his son wouldn't shut down because of his presence. Maxwell still kept some things private, even from his adopted father. Maxwell cleared his throat, face reddening. "We're talking about Emily Sands." "I didn't know you were sweet on her." Jonas sat on the end of one of the benches, close enough to be part of their conversation without having to speak loudly and possibly wake Breanna. "I ain't really said anything to anyone, because…" Maxwell looked down and fiddled with his pants leg. "Well…she's really somethin' special and I'm…" Jonas held his breath. Would Maxwell share about his past? Penny reached out, stretched a little, and ruffled Maxwell's curly black mop of hair. "You're something special, too." His son looked up, his face open, hopeful. Yearning for Penny's approval to be real. Jonas knew exactly what Maxwell was feeling. His stomach had tightened into a knot as he waited to see what she would say to his son. He wanted her approval for Maxwell. He tried not to think about what it would feel like to have Penny's approving gaze rest on him.   Question for you: what is your favorite memory with your mother? I’d love to give away a copy of THE HOMESTEADER’S SWEETHEART to be drawn from all those who comment.   Here’s the back cover of the book: To escape a dreaded arranged marriage, Penny Castlerock will face anything—even life on her grandfather's farm. But it isn't the rustic lifestyle that's got the Philadelphia socialite tied in knots. It's the handsome homesteader and his eight adopted children next door…. With seven boys and a girl to raise, transplanted farmer Jonas White could sure use some help. He just didn't expect it to come from the high-spirited, copper-haired beauty he's always admired from afar. But surely working the land is no life for a woman like Penny. Yet a threat to Jonas's farm just might show him how perfect Penny is for him after all.   SPECIAL GIVEAWAY: To celebrate my birthday and the release of this book, I’ve gotten together a small contingent of authors to give away some gifts and book bonuses. There are specials just for Mother’s Day, too! Check out www.megamaybirthdaybash.com .

                  Thanks everyone for posting a comment on Thursday!!  Estella wins a copy of A Cowboy Worth Claiming. Just email me at charlenesands@hotmail.com with your address and I'll sent the signed book out to you!

Roll out the red carpet!

Strap on the high heels and rhinestones.

It's time for a theatrical debut!

OK, maybe that's going a bit overboard, but my heart was pitter-pattering with opening night jitters when my publisher sent me the link to my first book trailer. Would I like it? Would it capture the essence of my book? Would it generate reader interest?

I'm thrilled to report that it surpassed all my expectations! I'll let you watch it, then I'll give you the behind-the-scenes scoop.

 

 The man at the beginning is the cover model from when the design team shot the cover. However, the live action section in the middle of the video was shot much later. So did they bring the cover model back? Nope. Four random men on staff at Bethany House snuck off when no one was watching and filmed it themselves. How cool is that! They arranged to have the same costume from the photo shoot and one of them dressed up as my hero, Travis Archer, and took on the straws. They even found the original straws from the shoot, too. Such attention to detail. Love it! Then the three other men, wearing plaid shirts, of course, played the roles of the other Archer brothers, and each took their turns drawing straws. My project manager swore me to secrecy about their identities. They are too shy for the Hollywood spotlight, so I can't reveal their names, but how 'bout those acting skills! I've never seen a better betrayal of arms. Ha!

I am so blessed to have a publisher who is willing to go the extra mile for its authors.

And did you notice the final scene where Travis pulls a little something from up his sleeve? Hmm...something tells me there is more to this story than meets the eye.

Short-Straw Bride releases later this month. You can pre-order by clicking on the cover to the right.

So what do you think about book trailers? Are they fun? Boring? Do they whet your appetite for a book or leave you unmoved? This is a new experience for me, so I'd love to get your feedback.

 

WHAT INSPIRES CAN ALSO THRILL YOU!

 

As a multi-published author, the second question I’m often asked is “What inspires you?”  Can you guess what the first question I’m asked is? You’ve probably heard this before.  “Where do you get your ideas?” The idea question and the inspiration question are one in the same, for me.   What inspires me, also gives me my ideas.  And when I get an idea for a story, I’m thrilled.   

 

 

BOOKS AND MUSIC - A GIVEN

 

  

I have learned to fill my world with inspiration.  One of the greatest inspirations for me is simply reading a good book.  I won’t lie.  My favorite author in the universe is Susan Elizabeth Phillips.  I love her zany, but well-thought out characters, I love her voice, her sense of humor and the way her subplots are often as engaging as the main story.  I look forward to each of her new releases and she’s one author whose books I re-read for inspiration. 

I love country music, a given for an author who writes primarily cowboys and country life.  When I listen to the lyrics in a country tune, I live the love story in my mind.  I’m a fan of Taylor Swift, Tim McGraw, Lady Antebellum, Martina McBride, Brad Paisley, Ronnie Brooks, Kenny Chesney, Faith Hill and so many more.  Their songs not only make me tap my toes and clap my hands, but they move me in other ways as well.  

 

 

MY OFFICE OF DREAMS

Another source of inspiration for me is my workspace.  I’d waited for years to have an office to call my own.  I spend the greatest part of my day in there.   Every time I look at the walls, I see my friends, my family and my sweet husband’s love come through. 

 

One of my few indulgences was a gift I gave myself.  When I had achieved a writing goal I’d been seeking for a long time, I rewarded myself with this piece of metal art that is one of a kind.  As you can see, the horses that stampede over my computer every day, tell me to sit down and write.  They are the true focal point in the room.

 

The Wall of Frames, as my husband jokingly calls it, is an ongoing gift from him. Every time I get a new cover, he frames it and positions it on the wall.  Little did I know, when I was first published in 1998, that I would run out of wall space for all of my cover art!  When I look up there, I see achievement, but I am also reminded of hard work and perseverance.  But mostly, I’m reminded that I have a wonderful, supportive husband who believes in me and that inspires me.

 

Oh, and Tim McGraw comes to visit every now and then.  Yes, it’s a life-sized poster of Tim given to me by a dear friend who knew how much I loved going to Tim concerts.

 

The cowboy shelf and mirror, the trinkets, the racing horses, red roses in a leather boot- one rose for each book I have written -- the western candles and lamps, are gifts given to me by my sweet, supportive friends and family, our own Tanya Hanson included!  When I step foot in my office THAT is what inspires me. It’s not the objects themselves, but the love behind them that makes me smile every day as I sit down at the computer.  And it reminds me, when I’m on a deadline, or struggling with a plot, or having a difficult time focusing on my story, that I have the support and faith of my friends and family. I have love in my life and as romantic a notion as it seems, that shared love is the impetus and motivation that inspires me, more than anything else.

  

What gives you inspiration during your day, whether at work or at play?   One commenter will win a copy of  Charlene’s book. 

 

Amazon --

 

Eharlequin

 

Barnes and Noble

Cowboy Chance Worth gets more than he bargains for when he saves damsel in distress Lizzie Mitchell. He has come to Red Ridge, Arizona, to rescue her family's failing ranch and find Lizzie a suitable husband. Too bad it wouldn't be honorable to keep the little spitfire for himself!

 

Lizzie may be innocent, but she's not naive. Fully determined to find her own way in life, she doesn't welcome Chance's intrusion. But when he plans to leave she realizes she may not be ready to see the back of him just yet!

 

When my new duet was in the conceptualization stage, I knew that my heroine was a social worker. I knew that because she showed up in an earlier book, PROUD RANCHER, PRECIOUS BUNDLE, as the case worker who helped Wyatt and Elli as they cared for Wyatt's niece. She intrigued me. I had an idea for a women's shelter - a place that Angela would be personally invested in and something she'd believe in passionately. And I got thinking - so many times we think of shelters as a place for women to go when they leave an abusive situation. But then what? How does a woman rebuild her life when she's left her old life with, perhaps, nothing more than the clothes on her back? The shelter in the story is what we call "Second Stage" housing. It's for women who are at the point where they need a helping hand getting started - finding a job, finding housing, taking those last steps to independence.  Like Clara Ferguson, for example. Clara is a sweet, strong woman and Angela's first resident. Clara's focus is on finding a job and saving enough money to afford a place of her own, growing emotionally stronger as she goes. When it came time to name the house, I really struggled. I'm not good at that sort of thing. In the end I settled on Butterfly House. Why? A few reasons. It's a place where its residents can grow and change, to gain their confidence again and feel whole and beautiful and worthy - not unlike a caterpillar transforming into a beautiful butterfly. And while they've been injured and had their wings clipped, Butterfly House is a place where they can put their past behind them and learn to fly again. In THE LAST REAL COWBOY, Angela has to move beyond her own past to accept both Sam's help and his love.  It's harder for her because she knows she's got to set the example as the director, and yet she has her own issues that she hasn't addressed.  Good thing Sam is strong and patient - but not too patient, of course! And in the second book, out next month (THE REBEL RANCHER), Clara meets Ty, Sam's adopted brother. Ty is trouble - and also surprisingly gentle - just the kind Clara needs to restore her faith in men - and in herself. You can find out more about my Cadence Creek Cowboys duet at www.donnaalward.com/LastRealCowboy.htm and www.donnaalward.com/RebelRancher.htm