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.

                  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!

 

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!

 

In the late 1950’s, Helen Cordero was 45 years old, and the mother of six children.  She and her cousin’s wife, Juanita, had been doing bead and leather work to sell to the tourists who came to Cochiti Pueblo, south of Santa Fe, New Mexico.  Both women were skilled artisans, but the leather and beads were so costly that there was little profit to be gained from selling their handiwork. “Why don’t you make pottery?” their grandmother suggested.  “You don’t have to buy anything.  Mother Earth gives it all to you.” Juanita was already an accomplished potter.  But Helen had to learn, and it was a struggle.  After six months of practice, her pots still didn’t look right.  That was when Juanita suggested she try making figures. “It was like a flower blooming,” Helen was to say later.  Small frogs, birds, animals and eventually little people came to life.  The first time she showed them at a festival a collector bought them all and ordered more, including a 250-piece Nativity set. In 1964, Helen was asked to make a larger figure with children.  Some potters were making mother and child figures, but Helen wanted something different.  She thought of her grandfather, one of the great Pueblo storytellers and preservers of tradition.  She remembered his voice and made her first storyteller figure a portrait of him, with his five grandchildren.  One of those grandchildren is Helen. Helen Cordero, honored as a Santa Fe Living Treasure, passed away in 1994.  Today more than three hundred potters in thirteen pueblos have created storytellers—men, women, animals, birds and mythical figures.   I saw my first storyteller at Acoma Pueblo in the early 1990’s.  I loved it so much that I bought it from the potter, a wonderful artist named Peggy Garcia.  My little storyteller is a woman with five children, beautifully fashioned and painted.  I gave it to my mother, whose 45 years of teaching elementary school made her a true storyteller.  Now that she’s gone I have it back.  It sits on my shelf, carefully anchored, as I write this.  I wish I had a photo to show you.  Here’s a similar example of Peggy’s work. (For the information about Helen Cordero, I credit an article by Pamela Michaelis.) Who are the storytellers in your family?  Maybe you’re one of them.

Every so often, I teach a class called “Writing Your Life Story.” Most of the people who are there for classes are senior citizens, who, for the most part, have been urged by family members to come. As they introduce themselves, it goes something like this:  “I’m Jane Doe, and I’m here because my children keep telling me I need to write this all down—but I don’t know where to begin.” My first assurance to them all is that they don’t need to write like Laura Ingalls Wilder—their families will be thrilled with anything they put down on paper.  It’s amazing to me how many people don’t feel they have anything of interest to tell their descendants! I want to tell you about my parents, because they were the epitome of opposites when it came to this. My mother told stories from the time I can remember about her family, about her friends, the small town she grew up in. These were details of an ordinary life that gave me insight into the way times were during the Dustbowl days in Oklahoma. It told me about her life in particular and life in general, and it also brought people I never knew to reality for me through her memories. Mom had a dear friend, just her age, named Mary. They were both the eldest of their respective families, each with many younger siblings that they were responsible for. Mom mentioned how she and Mary both longed for an d cherished the few times when they could be alone to talk “girl talk” without each having two or three little ones they had to look after. One of their favorite places to go was the cemetery. They’d both been born in Albany, so they knew the stories of everyone buried there in the small cemetery: The Taylor family, whose six children went berry picking, only to take shelter under an oak tree when a storm blew up suddenly. Lightning struck the tree and killed all by tow of them. The oldest boy crawled to a nearby farmhouse for help, but died later. Out of the six, only one survived. There were no markers on their graves, but Mom showed me where each was buried. Another grave she showed me was that of a young child who, at eighteen months, crawled under the porch and drank tree poison his father had believed was well-hidden. Mom told me how his lips were stained purple She and Mary had gone to the funeral and it was imprinted in her mind forever. Christmases were sparse in that time. It was a good Christmas if they each received and apple, and orange, and some hard candy in their stockings, and maybe a doll, in addition, in the better-then-most years. I wrote a story called SILVER MAGIC for an Adams Media Christmas anthology about something she told me. They'd brought home a Christmas tree that particular year, and one of her younger brothers had suggested maybe then could have some tinsel...My grandfather went into the shed and hand-cut tinsel and a star from the foil covering of an old battery. What a thrill that was for them! Yet, who would ever dream that was something that could be done, now, in our world of buy-it-already made? From Mom I learned about our family ancestors—where they’d come from and who they were. As a child, I thought of them as a story she told, but as I grew older, they became real people to me. I learned about her, too—how, as a teen, she’d pool her hard-earned money with her younger sister, Joyce, to buy the newest Hit Parade Magazine with all the lyrics to the latest songs. They had sung together from the time they knew how, adding more harmonies as more sisters came along. My dad never talked about his adolescence much. Even though he and Mom grew up together in the same small community, he never had much to add to the conversations. What I know of his family, I learned mostly from my aunt, his younger sister. Why write it all down now? Because most people never believe they’ll run out of time. “Someday” never comes. My mom had such fascinating stories, filled with tenderness, charged with emotion—stories that made it seem as if I was there along with her as she spoke. She was a painter, an artist, and she could paint pictures with her words, as well. Mom always had good intentions, but like so many, never found the time before it was too late, and Altzheimer’s took away that ability. I will write it all down…all that I can remember of it. But I can’t help thinking how I wish she had written her story, with all the vivid details and description she used in telling about it. There is so much I won’t know. So much will be lost, simply because this was her life. The memories are hers: the hard times, as well as the good—the days in an everyday life…and, the nights, when entertainment was nothing more than the beautiful harmonies of the four little girls, floating in the summer stillness for miles as they sang on the front porch…in a much simpler, slower time. If you are interested in getting started on writing your life story, or know someone who is, I will be glad to e-mail you some questions that I use in my classes to help you get started. Just contact me at fabkat_edit@yahoo.com

  It seems impossible that it’s nearly Easter, but here we are, and life is just as crazy busy as ever. I stopped today to look at my planner, see what I’ve done this year and how many of those things were on my goals sheet. You have a goals sheet don’t you? During the year I often check back to see if I’m where I want to be. A lot of times when the excitement has drained from our writing or we’re bored with the tedium of work and responsibilities, it’s because we’ve forgotten our dreams. There are mortgages to pay and kids to raise and groceries to buy and dinners to prepare.  Besides that there are books to promote and cars that need oil changes and graduations and—fill in the blank. That’s life. But tucking away our aspirations at the expense of our personal well-being isn’t healthy. Eventually we resent the things that are “robbing” us, instead of enjoying each facet for the richness it brings. Certainly there is joy to be found in the dream of your own home and in the treasure of children, but sometimes we pause in the midst of all that busyness to wonder, “Is this all there is?” There has to be more, and we yearn to find fulfillment within ourselves. That’s most often the time to reprioritize our busy schedules.   Look at the goals you set for this year. If you missed the mark, just start over. Don’t beat yourself up over what you didn’t do; just start today and look forward.  If you didn’t make a list, it’s not too late to get started. Take time now. Sit down and write five things you dream of doing. Divide them into categories if you like: Family, Professionally, Writing, Spiritually, or Just for Me. Now select one that you will devote yourself to work on before the end of summer. Make another list of the steps you will take to see that accomplishment come to pass. Now take those steps. Recapture the joy. We need to be participants in our lives, not spectators. We need to be passionate about our dreams. Sometimes simply revisiting our dreams is the kick we need to change our thinking and get us out of a rut. So dream big and dream often.   All the photos are mine.   If you haven't read Donnelly's Promise yet, you can read it in its entirely here for free: http://cherylstjohn.blogspot.com/p/free-story-donnellys-promise.html

I was all set to write a fun blog about wedding proposals today, but as I was working out on my elliptical machine, watching the news, a report came on about a woman- a mother-who had saved her children’s lives in a tornado that had demolished her home in Henryville, Indiana.  The story brought tears to my eyes and an ache to my heart and I thought to myself, this is what I want to write about today.  So I will save the fun proposal blog for next time and instead, we’ll talk about heroics and sacrifice. Stephanie Decker knew the storm was going to be bad.  She ushered her two children, Reese age 5 and Dominic, age 8, into the basement, tied a comforter around them and then threw her body over them as the tornado hit.  Her home crumbled around and on top of her and she was terrified for her children.  As she lay bleeding, waiting for help, she remembered thinking, “I have to live for my kids.” The storm and the tornadoes killed 39 people that day, 13 of whom lived in Indiana, but Stephanie Decker’s children survived, coming through the ordeal without a scratch on their bodies.  Stephanie was bleeding so badly, she thought surely she would die.  A steel beam had toppled onto her body. She managed to fashion a makeshift tourniquet to help stop the bleeding and after the storm passed, she sent Dominic for help.  Not knowing if she would make it out alive, she recorded a video message from her cell phone to her husband.  Stephanie lost both of her legs that day, one above the knee and one above the ankle.  Her life will be forever changed.  But she saved her children and when she was asked, she said she wasn’t a hero.  “I call myself a mom.” I choked up when I heard that.  Those of us who are mothers or know a mother’s love, understand the meaning of sacrifice.  We understand the courage Stephanie summoned and believe we’d do the same thing in her situation.  I would say Stephanie passed the “Mom” test with flying colors.  When we love so fiercely, we protect.  I would disagree with Stephanie though. I say she’s a Mom and a Hero. I would bet most of you agree with my assessment as well. Stephanie Decker’s story is bittersweet and moving, a testament of true love.  It’s a story of great humanity, fierce protectiveness and unyielding spirit.     When we write stories, our characters are tested time and again.  We see them go through major sacrifices along the way before they get their happily-ever-after.  In my story, my heroine Lizzie makes a supreme sacrifice for the hero, Chance Worth.  She is willing to give up the one thing she wants most in the world to save him.   I love telling fictional stories, because I am guaranteed a happy ending, but I think I’ve learned something from Stephanie Decker’s story, as well.  My imagination is not where my characters derive their strength of spirit and bravery.  I get my inspiration for my heroines from real-life women like Stephanie who look a natural disaster in the eye and say, I won’t give up without a fight. I won’t let you win. What do you think about Stephanie Decker?  Have you ever faced a natural disaster?  Do you like reading stories of brave women who are tested, time and again?   What’s the bravest thing you’ve done in your life?  And to one commenter goes a copy of my new release, A COWBOY WORTH CLAIMING. Be sure to join my mailing list today!  I’ll be holding an exclusive BRAND NEW-sletter Contest for members of my mailing list with great prizes!  www.charlenesands.com AVAILABLE ON AMAZON in a 4 for 3 discount Also on EHARLEQUIN  Find me on Twitter and Facebook      

Last night we looked at the weather forecast and got very hopeful. Snow in the evening, over night, and into the morning. Not a vast amount, but enough that there was the possibility of a snow day. In the two years that my husband has been teaching at a local college, he has never had a snow day. This winter, the kids have had exactly ONE.  Bearing in mind that last year we had a few and that the year before that I think they had almost one a week, this year has kind of felt like we're getting cheated out of snow days. The funny thing is that in the years when we have a lot, I start to curse them because it is definitely harder to work with the kids home. But the odd one is like a treat, and a snow day on a MONDAY would be even better. Not just because it's the first day of the week but because it's also the heaviest extra curricular activity day and I'd be saved a whole lotta running around. So last night the kids put spoons under their pillows (no idea where THAT came from) and wore their jammies wrong-side out in the hopes of a snow day. I woke up several times in the night, I really did. Wondering if it was snowing. Dreaming about the alarm going off and hearing the words that the district schools were cancelled. Instead the sun was peeking out, a few inches were down but everything was going on as normal (albeit a bit carefully on the roads this morning). It is currently flurrying, but this afternoon I will still be doing the volleyball/choir/badminton run. I mean really. If we have to have snow in March, can't we at least have enough to get a day off? Dang it, I had promised the girls that if school was cancelled, I'd work for a while and then we'd watch another episode of Downton Abbey. Ah well. The house is quiet and I have lots of work to do. The snow day will have to wait.

Good Morning or Afternoon or Evening, whenever you're joining us! I'm filling in for Stacey today and in thinking over my post, I thought I'd perhaps tell you a bit of a story within a story.  Since GRAY HAWK'S LADY is being released now (soon to be released) for the first time in ebooks, I thought I'd give a little bit of the back story behind the making of this book -- if only because it's near and dear to me and I'm thinking you might perhaps enjoy it. Believe it or not, the story starts with a kiss.  But let me backtrack.  I had in 1992-1993 gone through a divorce and came back to California, because I've considered it home ever since I was 18 and fell in love with it.  Unfortunately for me, I jumped right into a relationship that was very bad for...many reasons.  After that relationship, I wanted nothing to do with men, love, marriage again.  Sigh... The year was now 1995 and I was on my own and definitely enjoying being on my own.  One of my best friends (whom I had known since 1970) was pushing me to go on a blind date.  I didn't want to go and I told her I wanted nothing to do with men, relationships, marriage, dating...nothing... But she insisted and I found my self consenting to one date.  That was in January of 1996.  I had a book due to my publisher in July of 1996, but had plenty of time to write it and had, indeed, started writing it when I went on this first date. So off I went on this first ever in my life blind date.  The gentleman picked me up at my house and I noticed he was wearing cowboy boots and being very interested in the West and Cowboys and Indians, this was great.  He was also born and raised in Montana, and I was very interested in Montana since the story of GRAY HAWK' S LADY was to take place in Montana. The date was okay.  We went out to eat, but I was left with the impression that he wasn't really interested in me.  So, I put it behind me.  He never called, never asked me back out and never told me what was happening and so eventually, just to end my wondering about it, I called my friend, told her I was sorry it hadn't worked out and ... well, so long sort of thing.  To my surprise she wouldn't let it go -- I had just wanted to put it behind me.  She said, "Oh, no, he's really interested in you."  and I said, "Oh, no, I don't think so.  Let's just put the whole thing behind us."  And she said, "No, I'm sure he really liked you." So she called his brother, who then talked to him, and the upshot of it all was that Paul then called me and asked me for another date.  Well, it had been an okay first date, I thought, and he was a nice gentleman and perhaps we could be friends, I thought.  So I accepted. Little did I know what was in store.  On the second date, we were both more relaxed, held hands, and I thought, okay, we'll be friends.  He took me home, walked me to the door and just as I was about ready to go inside, he took me in his arms and kissed me.  Now, it was quite some kiss.  He meant it. And I was more than ready to receive it.   His hands caressed my cheeks, my eyes, my face, my hair, my neck. It went on and on and on, and when he was done, I felt a little drunk.  I think I stared at him and for the first time, I said to myself, "Who is this man?"  Indeed, I wanted more. Well, that was that.  We had a date the next week, and within 2-3 weeks, I had moved in with him and we were married in May 1996.  Our first date was February 3rd 1996.  So it definitely was a whirlwind romance. Now you may be wondering what this has to do with the book, GRAY HAWK'S LADY.  Well, a lot, I'm afraid.  I was in the middle of writing that book, and I fell so deeply in love with this man, who is now my husband, that of course that love was written all over the printed pages of GRAY HAWK'S LADY.  That first kiss and my emotional reaction to it is recorded in that work.  Also, my gradual coming to understand that this man was the most important man in my life is in that book.  His calmness, his teasing, his care...it's all written there as I fell head over heels in love. Did I mention that my earring (the night of that first kiss) fell off -- and I have pierced ears!... In May of this year, we will have been married 16 years.  Interestingly enough I still have the pictures of our wedding on my website www.novels-by-KarenKay.com -- can't bring myself to take them down, even though 16 years more or less have gone by now.  People sometimes write to me and congratulate me on my recent marriage -- and I smile.  To me, in many ways, it does seem like a recent marriage, as I fall in love with this man all over again every day. I love this man with all my heart -- and as the years have gone by, that love grows and grows and grows.   He stole my heart with that first kiss and that love goes on and on and on.  (I'll knock on wood here.)  As the -- gee, was it the Ronettes that once sang the song, "And Then He Kissed Me," --  it has always seemd to me that it started with that kiss.    Ah, sweet! I hope you've enjoyed the blog today and I hope you'll come in and leave a message.  And please don't forget I have several books on sale right now, LAKOTA SURRENDER, LAKOTA PRINCESS and PROUD WOLF'S WOMAN.  http://store.samhainpublishing.com/karen-kay-pa-1676.html?PHPSESSID=6c95d8d5491a741a6376af7dabc15511                  

When Harlequin does a continuity series, a group of editors come up with a concept and invite the authors they want to participate. The authors are given what is termed ‘the bible,’ a two or three page synopsis of each story and a brief sketch of each character. An overall concept is included, explaining how the threads connect the stories.

After that, it’s up to the authors to put their heads together and collectively figure out how they’re going to make this idea work—and how they will create their individual stories to keep the plots logical and the stories exciting enough to carry them through however many pages.

I’ve participated in several Montana Mavericks continuities, both historical and contemporary, as well as a contemporary continuity about a fertility clinic. One of the most critical parts of this whole process is the brainstorming and chemistry between the participating authors. A good group makes all the difference, so I was delighted after Love Inspired Historical asked me to write the first book in the Irish Brides trilogy I learned Renee Ryan and Winnie Griggs were the other two authors.

I’m fortunate that Winnie is my sister Filly here at Wildflower Junction and Renee is a member of my RWA chapter, so the three of us already knew each other. Working with them was a joy, and I can only hope they feel the same way about my participation. We plotted and shared and wrangled plot points until each of us had a great story to write.

The premise and setting set me back for only a few minutes. Three orphaned Irish sisters leave their homeland and travel to America in hopes of finding a man they discover loved their mother. They need a place to live as well as a new start. I’d only ever written American-set stories and only a couple set as early as 1850. As soon as I began my research I was hooked. The history of these sisters came to life for me, and I had the privilege of setting up each character—with Renee and Winnie’s guidance of course.

I prepared myself for the narrative and dialogue by watching every Irish movie I could fit into my schedule. Quite a hardship I assure you. My favorite is always Far and Away, but there are other great ones.

I enjoyed populating the sailing vessel, the Annie McGee with colorful sojourners and creating conflicts for my character, Maeve Murphy. I slipped in one cowboy, who is traveling back home--couldn't resist. The tale of The Wedding Journey unfolds onboard the ship, as Maeve is given a position as the physician’s assistant, and their trip is underway. Renee and Winnie have written the stories of Bridget and Nora, Maeve’s older sisters, whose tales begin once the ship docks in Boston Harbor.

Once my story was finished, Harlequin asked me to write a free online serial for their website, and gave me free license to come up with a prequel to the Irish Brides. Again I dove into research for something to snag my interest and found stories of the poor starving Irish being sent to penitentiaries for stealing food or not paying their landowners. The story sprang to life from there.

In 1850 Ireland, Darcy Keegan secretly plans to escape the drudgery of the prison where her father is warden to start a life elsewhere. Her plans are thwarted by a young boy who's been imprisoned and whom she can't bring herself to leave until she knows he will be safe.

Vaughn Donnelly has recently returned to Castleville to add a wing to the penitentiary, and is captivated by the young lass he observes in the prison yard. His job prevents him from staying, so love and marriage are out of the question--or are they? When he intervenes on behalf of a lad being mistreated, he wins the admiration of the Irish lass he admires.

Their shared concern for the laddie quickly turns into something more--read Donnelly’s Promise FREE on the Harlequin website: CLICK HERE

By the time I finished with these two stories I thought and dreamed everything with an Irish accent! I had so much fun with these characters and their tales of love that I can’t wait for readers to discover them.

The Wedding Journey is available for pre-order.

Thanks for stopping by!