Bell Bridge Books

What inspired you to write Iain’s Plaid?

My first historical romance is a time travel set during the beginnings of the American War for Independence, and several people along the way to getting it published have asked me what inspired me to write this particular book. So here’s the answer to that query.

Back when I lived on the Maine coast, I came across a book by Bill Caldwell, The Islands of Maine, Where America Really Began. It was a fascinating book about the earliest European settlers in New England. From my front yard I could one of those islands mentioned in Mr. Caldwell’s book. Historian Charles K. Bolton also mentioned this island called Damariscove in his book, The Real Founders of New England, noting that four hundred years ago, “Here was the chief maritime port of New England. Here was the rendezvous for English, French and Dutch ships crossing the Atlantic. Here men bartered with one another and with Indians, drank, gambled, quarreled and sold indentured servants.” Four hundred of years ago, two hundred years before the Pilgrims arrived in Plymouth on the Mayflower, there were “wharves, salting houses (for fish) sheds, boatyards, taverns and perhaps a bawdy house or two for sailors coming ashore after a long Atlantic Crossing” clustered on this tiny island.

Edward Winslow, the Pilgrim representative who came begging for food and supplies in 1622, wrote in his journal that he and his group were graciously welcomed with “Kind entertainment and good respect and a willingness to supply our needs . . . and that there were 30 ships of sail anchored in the harbor.”

Damariscove Island is only two miles long and not more than a quarter mile wide, yet, in 1675 three hundred refugees fleeing Indian wrath sheltered here. A century later, just before the start of the Revolutionary War, a British Naval captain put ashore here and stole 75 sheep to feed his sailors before turning south to burn present day Portland to the ground. During the war of 1812 (the Second War of Independence) the HMS Boxer and the USS Enterprise fought a famous sea battle so close to the island that the inhabitants of Damariscove watched the fight from their own shore. (Just another bit of interesting history, the captain of HMS Boxer, Samuel Blyth, who was just 29 years old, and the American Lieutenant William Burrows, age 28, who captained the USS Enterprise, were both killed in the battle and were buried side by side in a cemetery in Portland, Maine with full military honors.)

Is it any wonder that I was fascinated with this scrap of land I could see from my front yard? So, one glorious summer day, my dad, my daughter, and I sailed out to Damariscove to explore this scrap of an island with so much history. As I stood gazing down at the narrow harbor, Winslow’s words came back to me, and I marveled that 30 sailing ships big enough to cross the Atlantic could have fit in that long gut of bright blue water. There were, just as Bill Caldwell had described, many old granite foundations scattered on the high ground above the harbor and as I stood on the cornerstone of one of the largest foundations, I tried to imagine this island full of people and what life might have been like here in an era when brave young captains ventured forth to harass the British Navy or carry ships filled with salted cod and furs across the Atlantic to Europe. There were tales of a ghost who roamed the island with his faithful dog, but I saw no sign of him. Or any of the other souls who had called this place home for hundreds of years.

Then the rock beneath my feet wobbled. I jumped back alarmed, not wanting to tumble into the long abandoned cellar hole. But as I watched a small shower of loose gravel and dirt tumble into the daisy-lined hole the seemingly random thought came to me, “What if I fell in, hit my head, and was knocked unconscious. And what if when I came to my senses again there were sturdy floor joists over my head and a door enclosing me in a basement filled with the sorts of things kept in basements a long time ago?” As we climbed back in our dinghy and headed back to the sailboat, that question continued to rattle around in my head and that was inspiration for my story, Iain’s Plaid. My heroine, Dani Amico. did just as I had done. With a fascination in American History, she sailed out to explore and she really did fall into that hole and woke up over 200 years in the past, shut up in a cellar belonging to a reluctant patriot. I hope you enjoy reading Dani and Iain’s story as much as I enjoyed imagining and writing it.

Iain’s Plaid is on sale – just 99¢ until April 15^th.

Was she sent back in time to change Iain’s fate . . . or share it?

Caught between a job offer she should take and a marriage proposal she doesn’t want, Dani Amico is dying for some adventure. So she takes off to visit some of the places on her bucket list. The first – an abandoned island she read about while researching her American History thesis. While there, she tumbles into an abandoned cellar hole . . . and wakes up more than two centuries in the past.

It’s 1775 and Iain MacKail’s ship is loaded with contraband he is smuggling into Boston. This unknown Dani, the “boy” he found in his cellar, could be a spy for the British customs agents, so Iain is forced to take the boy with him to insure that he and his mission are not compromised. Only he soon finds out that this ”boy” is so much more.

As they travel through pre-revolutionary New England, Dani realizes she’s falling for the rugged Scotsman. But she can’t forget something she came across in her studies—the fate of Iain MacKail. He would be betrayed by someone close to him and suddenly disappear from history. Could this be the reason Dani fell through time—to save Iain? Could they live and love together in this war-torn time?

Then again, if she tries—and fails—to change his fate . . . will she end up sharing it?

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Reflections From My Front Porch

by Lora Lee

Hey there, y’all! Come on up and sit a spell on my front porch. It’s a lovely Fall afternoon, so relax in that rocker over there and let’s visit.

Did you know there’s a Clergy Appreciation Day? You didn’t? Neither did I. I even checked my calendar. Nothing. Zip. Nada. However, I trust the Bell Bridge marketing department when they tell me there is such a day. After all, they’re pretty smart about that sort of thing.

Now, if any of y’all have read Bringing in the Thieves, my cozy mystery in the Joyful Noise Mysteries, you know that the main character is a preacher’s daughter. Yep, Frankie Lou is a PK and her halo is in dire need of polishing. Seems she didn’t appreciate her clergyman father during her rebellious teen years. Hmmm. I wouldn’t know anything about that.

What’s that you ask? Oh, of course, I’m a PK. Always have been, but I’m not at all like Frankie Lou, bless her heart. After all, I’m a lot older and I know better. Life when I was growing up was different for a PK. Frankie Lou’s modern day problems were . . . well, you can read all about her in the book. I’ll give you a brief inside look into my own childhood days and you can draw your own conclusions.

There was one period during WWII when daddy was a Captain and chaplain in the US ARMY that I remember well. That was a worrisome time ‘cause my big brother was in the US NAVY somewhere out in the Pacific during that time, too. Momma shed a lot of tears while both of them were gone.

The time came when Momma and I were able to move where Daddy was stationed. That meant attending a new school where I didn’t know a soul. Can’t say I liked fourth grade that year.

Daddy was so handsome in his uniform. I felt pretty special when we ate in the mess hall with the other officers. But one Thanksgiving, Daddy wanted us to eat dinner with the enlisted men. Momma agreed so that’s what we did. Daddy loved those young men like his own son and did his best to prepare them for what they might be facing if they were sent overseas. I’m pretty sure those men appreciated the clergy because the chapel was always filled every Sunday.

I only had eleven years to appreciate my clergyman father. I didn’t even appreciate God the day Daddy died, but through the years, Momma kept me on the straight and narrow with her unconditional love. My appreciation of the clergy has grown as I’ve matured. And believe it or not, God never gave up on me, either.

Thanks for visiting on the front porch with me today. Y’all come back, ya’ hear.

Lora Lee

Pick up Bringing in the Thieves, the first in the Joyful Noise Mysteries, today for only $1.99!

Around Christmastime that year, Josh and I were talking about trips and places we’ve been and he started talking about how much he loves Universal Studios, how many times he’d been, how he hadn’t been since they opened up the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, and how he’s been dying to go for that reason. And I told him how I had been once on a trip in high school, but I didn’t really get to enjoy it. I also told him how I barely remembered anything about it. So Josh insisted that we take a vacation, but then he told me he wouldn’t take me until I watched all the Harry Potter movies since I had never seen any of them or read the books. We then watched all eight movies in a two week period. We saved our money and bought a trip and in April 2016, we went to Orlando. I had never been on a plane before and I thought it was really cute that Josh wanted to be the one to take me on my first airplane experience.

            We arrived on Friday and Saturday was our first day at the park. Saturday night after dinner we took a walk on the City Walk and Josh started peppering me with questions. Wondering if I’d had fun, what my favorite section of the park was (It was Harry Potter World, BY FAR, by the way), and what my favorite ride was. I didn’t think anything of it, so I answered his questions and asked him the same things. Well the next morning we got up and went back to the park again for our second day. The only part of the park that’s open the first hour of the day is the Harry Potter rides. So we headed there, rode those, and afterwards we just walked around checking out all the stores and stuff. Josh asked me if I wanted to take a picture together. I should have known something was up right then because he never wants to take pictures. Because of that fact, I was excited and said yes! So we found a costumed park employee and asked him to take a picture of us. He was super nice and agreed. He took several shots of us, even getting all artsy trying to make sure he was getting some good ones. Then suddenly as the employee went to hand me my phone back, Josh intervened and said to him “Actually, could you take one more picture?” and got down on his knee! I was so surprised. My face turned red and all I could say was “Nuh uh.” There were people walking around all around us and a lot of them stopped to watch and were already clapping for us. He asked me to marry him and there was so much going on, I swear he whispered it because I could barely hear him. Luckily I couldn’t take my eyes off him, so I know what he said by reading his lips. Of course I said yes! Our “photographer” took photos of the whole thing on my phone, and I was really glad he did because those are some of the sweetest pictures that I have. Not to mention, it was one of my requirements of being proposed to. I always told Josh that if he wanted to propose to me, he had better plan a secret photographer to capture it. After our celebration, filled with lots of hugs and kisses, we finally came back to reality. Josh told me to be sure to call my dad and tell him that he did it. I asked him what he meant and he explained that before our trip, he’d asked my dad’s permission to propose. After my father agreed, he told Josh to tell me to call him to tell him as soon as it happened. I’m very much a Daddy’s girl, so that was another one of my requirements to being proposed to. That was actually the first one on the list. It makes me feel so relieved that my dad loves Josh as much as I do and I just felt so incredibly blessed that the perfect guy had just given me the perfect proposal.

I guess some people really do get a second chance at love. And if you do get a second chance, don’t waste it! Josh and I are getting married June 10, 2017, and we couldn’t be more grateful that we get a second chance at happily ever after.

THANK YOU FOR READING! REMEMBER TO LIKE AND COMMENT ON THE FACEBOOK POSTS TO WIN A FREE EBOOK OF HEALING A HERO BY SKYE TAYLOR!

Fast forward all the way to 2014. Josh and his previous girlfriend had broken up that March and I had been dumped in August of the year before. One day that May, I posted a picture on Facebook of my friend and I that I had taken at church that same morning. Little did I know that that picture was going to cause Josh to send me a private message. Apparently, in that photo, the way I had my hair pulled to one side and my friend blocking the side my hair was pulled to, it appeared that I had cut all of my hair off. Some people had already commented on the photo bringing it to my attention when Josh said something about it. His message said that he had noticed the picture I had posted and had to look twice because he thought I cut all my hair off. When the other people had told me I found it annoying, but when he said it I laughed. From that message, we continued talking and eventually one of us suggested texting instead of communicating via Facebook. We continued texting every day until one day Josh asked me to hang out. And we attempted to hang out several times, but things kept coming up where one of us couldn’t meet. I think Josh even got a flat tire halfway to see me once. But one night we were both finally free. I went over to Josh’s house, and I have to admit, when he answered the door, it was a tiny bit awkward since it had been so long since we had seen each other last and I was nervous. But I went in and we just talked with the TV playing something in the background. We sat there all night and talked. It didn’t take long for my nerves to go away. Nothing was off limits, we talked about everything. I went home sometime in the wee hours of the morning but we continued texting every day whenever we could, and hanging out more and more.

On June 10, 2014, Josh and I were hanging out at my place watching TV and he said to me “If you wanted to tell people I’m your boyfriend, that would be okay with me.” I laughed and immediately said to him “No way! You have to officially ask me.” So he cheesily said “Will you be my girlfriend?” or something like that. I, of course, said yes. We were dating for about a year when Josh suggested I move in with him and his roommate. I was nervous at first because what if we didn’t work out? And I didn’t know what my parents would think about it. But I talked to them about it and I moved in, in July of 2015. And later that month Josh surprised me by texting me at work one day asking me if I wanted a kitten. I thought he was joking. I had wanted a cat for so long. Before I moved in and after, we would be watching TV and someone would get a kitten and I would be like “Awww babe!” and he would say “No!”. The first thing I said to his was “Are you for real?” because I didn’t think he would get me a cat. The next text that came through was a picture of a litter of kittens that needed homes and Josh told me how a co-worker was trying to find them homes and if I wanted one, we needed to tell him right away. I picked out the one I wanted from the picture and the next day Josh picked up and brought home our precious fur child. I came home from work and he and our roommate had already named her.

READ THE FINAL CHAPTER IN OUR SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE SERIAL TOMORROW!

Power of Perseverance

By Shereen Vedam

“Death is Peaceful, Life is Harder”

― Stephenie Meyer, Twilight

Right after I read the above quote, a friend mentioned a line from an old TV show called St. Elsewhere: “Death ends a life, it doesn’t end a relationship.”

Both quotes are so very true. When someone dies, the love of those left behind does not die with their loved one, it lingers on. As for the one who died, he or she can be drawn to the vibrancy of life they were left behind, especially if the one who they once cared for, is still grieving their passing.

Deep love perseveres.

Breaking the lure of life isn’t easy. In my Regency romance, A Beastly Scandal, the heroine discovers this when a widow asks her to cleanse her home, Clearview Manor, of a persistent ghost. The first thing the ghost does when Belle arrives is try to kill her. She perseveres. Because the last time she tried to help this man, it was when he was still alive, and she failed. This time, she will not abandon him. Not if he refuses to accept her help, not even if his son throws her out of his home.

Perseverance has the power to overcome obstacles, shrug off discouragement and surmount fear. When life seems hard – and believe me, it will get hard because that is the nature of life – remember to believe in yourself, and to not give up. If you can do that, you will get through this day, the next, and the one after that. In the end, you will triumph, because the power of perseverance is magical. Like love. Dead or alive.

EXCERPT from A Beastly Scandal:

 “That is a desolate looking house, is it not?” Winfield said. “I would have it torn down and rebuilt in a more flattering style, but Terrance seems fond of this monstrosity. So what brings you so far north, my lady?”

She faced the gentleman. “I have come for a visit with Lady Terrance. She is my grandfather’s friend.”

“I had heard the countess still wore dark colors.”

Before she could respond, a loud crack sounded. She sensed danger stab from above. With a shouted warning, she pulled Mr. Winfield out of harm’s way just as an icicle crashed and shattered where they had stood. She protected her face as splinters flew in all directions.

Mendal screamed. The owl fluttered its one good wing and screeched. The dog barked ferociously.

Mr. MacBride spoke first, his voice quivering and eyes wide with terror. “It is an omen, ah tell ye.”

“He is right,” Mendal said, sounding unusually timorous as she crossed herself. “We should leave. Bad luck comes from going where we are not wanted.”

The front doors opened then, and a footman descended. Immediately, the dog raced up the stairs and inside.

“Dog!” Belle called out in alarm. The animal might wreck the place. This was not how she had hoped to introduce herself to the countess.

An older woman, dressed in black, moved to the open doorway. Belle recognized her from a drawing her grandfather had shown her. This was Lady Terrance. She gave off waves of fear as she looked toward the roofline.

Belle’s worries drowned beneath the lady’s emotional assault, leaving her head pounding with a headache. Through that onslaught, Belle’s purpose became crystal clear. This is why she had come here. Lady Terrance needed her.

A BEASTLY SCANDAL is only $1.99 through the 15th! Grab it today!

INSPIRATION AND LEMONADE:

The story behind Beyond the Misty Shore

by Vicki Hinze

Into every life, lemon juice does pour.  If you’re lucky, you learn to love lemonade. I’m lucky. And it’s a good thing because…

I was having a pitcher-full and a truth about life and lemonade settled in:  Loving lemonade is a choice.  I mean, we can’t avoid lemon juice any more than we can avoid challenges. We can fight it, but we are going to lose. Lemon juice will be poured; it’s inevitable. But that doesn’t mean it has to be bitter. We can make a different choice. Sprinkle in a little sugar or Splenda, so to speak, a little water, and we’ve got lemonade, which tastes quite good and, on a hot day, it’s amazingly refreshing.

So I got juiced. I was at this crossroad in my life, debating which way to go, and this lemonade truth kept stealing my attention. I refilled my glass with half-a-pitcher to go, and another thought came to mind.  We have a choice. When life throws us lemons, we can choose to make lemonade, or not. Another thought chased that one:

What if we couldn’t?

What if we didn’t have a choice. Or the choice wasn’t ours to make. We’d be stuck. Literally swimming in lemon juice without lemonade or a solution or resolution in sight!

I didn’t care for the feeling, and it shot holes in my theory that I had at least a little control in my life. Don’t you hate it when that happens?  When your illusions are shattered and as leaky as a sieve?

I more than didn’t like it, I hated it…but I was intrigued. So I thought about it.  Okay, so you have not a pitcher full of lemon juice but a barrel full. You’re already banged up.  (Can anyone get to adulthood in life without getting banged up?  Unlikely.  Rare, even.) So you’re chugging lemon juice from the barrel, eager to drain it and get the nastiness behind you.  You’ve deciphered your problems and have progressed to looking for solutions, and you’re feeling good about that because, while the bad stuff isn’t behind you yet, you’ve made progress.  You’re on your way to getting rid of it.

Only you’re not. You’ve wracked your brain and there just are no solutions. Not even one. Worse, not only have you been robbed of a solution, your choice in what to do has been stolen, too.  Now what?  What do you do?

That was the situation I found myself in that led me to write the Seascape novels, and Beyond the Misty Shore specifically.

Being stuck doesn’t exactly inspire you to be in the most receptive frame of mind. Sunshine is arrogant when you’re grieving, right? But isn’t it true that the worst possible time is always when important things happen? When life-changing things happen?

That’s been true in my life, and so I made it true in TJ MacGregor’s life, too.  He is the hero stuck at Seascape Inn in Beyond the Misty Shore.  Add more lemon juice in the form of Maggie Wright, a woman who loves to hate him, and Miss Hattie, the wise Seascape innkeeper (who seems to know everything about everything but won’t just tell anyone anything because “some things are best learned firsthand”), a colorful cast of local characters, Maine cliffs, and a little otherworldly intervention, and, well, T.J. has his work cut out for him, doesn’t he?

He did, and so did I. But don’t feel too bad for him.  We’ve all tasted the tart of the juice and, you know, sometimes when we’re broken, we have to really hurt to ever get beyond the pain. We have to figure out that we can heal before we do heal.

Eventually, we get it. And when we do, magic happens. We no longer just survive. We truly live.

Like you and me, he’ll figure it out… eventually. So will Maggie.  And what fun to watch without personally sucking lemons!

I’m getting a little misty here. I think I’ll pack a bag and go visit Seascape Inn again . . . just as soon as I finish this glass of lemonade.  Care to join me?

Vicki Hinze’s Seascape Trilogy is on sale through March 1^st! Pick up these paranormal romances today!

Beyond the Misty Shore – Free!

Whimsy. Serenity. And a Touch of Magic. The Seascape Inn.

Marketing executive Maggie Wright and artist T.J. MacGregor are linked by a mysterious car accident that killed Maggie’s cousin, Carolyn, T.J.’s fiancée. When Maggie arrives on the Maine coast determined to get answers from T.J., she discovers a tortured man who is bound to the Seascape Inn by supernatural forces.

Despite the tragedy that stands between them, Maggie and T.J. begin to fall in love, seeking answers and a healing spirit they may never achieve.

Upon a Mystic Tide – Only $1.99! 

With their painful divorce looming on the horizon, radio psychologist Bess Cameron and her soon-to-be-ex-husband, John Mystic, meet at Maine’s Seascape Inn to finalize the terms of a property settlement. Bess believes John is in love with someone else, and she’s determined to move on without him. Their marriage appears doomed until the Inn’s matchmaking ghost, Tony, and its irrepressible owner, Miss Hattie, take matters in hand.

 Sometimes you have to leap upon a mystic tide and have faith the sand will shift and an island will appear . . . The second book of bestselling author Vicki Hinze’s Seascape Trilogy brings readers back to the gentle magic of a place where love is always stronger than the fragile boundaries of life.

Beside a Dreamswept Sea – Just $5.99!

Welcome to the third book of The Seascape Trilogy, three mystical romance-mystery novels by bestselling author Vicki Hinze.

New love isn’t on the agenda for widower Bryce Richards, who comes to the peaceful Seascape Inn with his three children, hoping the ethereal setting will help them recover from the death of their mother. Likewise, fellow inn guest Callie isn’t looking for romance either; she’s recovering from an emotionally abusive marriage.

It will take all the matchmaking skills of innkeeper Hattie Stillman and her ghostly assistant to bring Bryce and Cally together.

About the Author:

Raised in New Orleans, Vicki Hinze began writing before Kindergarten but her journey to writing books included a lot of corporate pitstops. Eventually, she settled in and her first novel landed an array of awards and on the bestseller list. With nearly 40 books published, she’s been back many times with awards in multiple genres and appearances on multiple bestseller lists, including USA TODAY. Vicki is recognized by Who’s Who in the World as an author and an educator and is best known for chilling suspense, trailblazing, and creating series that genre-blend. Her works include suspense, mystery and romance. Since 1994, this former VP of International Thriller Writers has written heavily about military and military families and in nearly all genres except horror. Hinze is a Floridian married to a former Hurricane Hunter/Special Operations Officer. She constantly pushes the boundaries on existing genres, opening the door for new novel blends.

Second Chances

by Sandra Hill

How many times in your life have you wished for a do-over?  How many times have you said, “If only…” with regard to some past event, or person?  Does your heart ever ache at the thought of a second chance to do something differently?  If only we could turn back the clock!

Sometimes it involves carelessly spoken words that wounded. Or words not spoken that should have been.   Or a poor choice of career…or even a spouse.  Wasted time, lost years.  Desertion.  Betrayal.  Or lost love.

The heart aches at the finality of some of our actions.  If only…, if only…, if only…

It’s a favorite theme in many books and movies, sometimes with satisfying conclusions, other times the sorrow of lost chances.  The movies “An Affair to Remember,” “The Way We Were,” “The Notebook,” or “Casablanca.”  Or how about Scarlett in GONE WITH THE WIND?  Wouldn’t she have liked to turn back the clock?  One of my favorite examples is Diane Gabaldon’s OUTLANDER.  When Claire returns to the future, she thinks Jamie is dead.  What a fabulous plot angle when Claire discovers twenty-some years later that Jamie never died in the Battle of Culloden, and she goes back to find him.  <sigh>

Second Chances!  That’s what happens in HEART CRAVING.  Poor Nick DiCello, a Trenton cop, has only one week until his divorce from his wife Paula become final.  He loves Paula desperately, but he’s made so many mistakes.  He has to do something, though.  Clueless about where to start, Nick goes to a wacky fortune teller for advice.  She tells him to find his wife’s “heart craving,” but Nick hears only the word “craving” and thinks she refers to sexual fantasies.  What ensues is Nick’s hilarious, but poignant, and dare I say erotic, setup of a series of sexual events to woo Paula back.

I love novels about couples who have a broken relationship and somehow find their way back to each other.  They know how to push each other’s buttons, in all ways.  The hurts are deep; for that reason, the reunions are that much more emotional when they get another chance to change.

In my own personal life, there are so many things I wish I could do over.  How about you?  Well, in books, we get that chance.

Sandra Hill is an award-winning, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than 40 romantic humor novels.  Whether they be contemporary, historical, or paranormal, the underlying theme in all of them is humor…and sizzle.  For more information about her books, check out her website at www.sandrahill.net or her Facebook page at Sandra Hill Author.

HEART CRAVING by Sandra Hill is only $1.99 through January 15th! Grab it today!

“I Got a Happy Meal and Mommy Got a Baby”

By Deb Stover

Following the birth of our daughter, Barbi, in 1981, my obstetrician said another pregnancy was “paramount to a death wish.” So we spoiled her for four years, then started looking into adoption.

After completing a workshop on special needs adoption and our Home Study, we went on a waiting list as not only potential, but eager, adoptive parents. A mere 3 months later, the phone rang to inform us that a newborn girl with Down Syndrome needed us.

We lived near Tulsa at the time, and Bonnie was born in Oklahoma City. We stayed in constant contact with the agency. Not only was she born with Down Syndrome, but she also had a heart defect. The only test that had been done was a simple EKG. Our medical insurance would cover Bonnie immediately, so I made appointments with a pediatric cardiologist and our pediatrician before we even brought her home.

Finally, the day arrived. The social worker suggested we meet somewhere between Oklahoma City and Tulsa. Dave took the day off and the three of us drove to the appointed rendezvous point.

McDonald’s!

Bonnie only weighed four pounds, fourteen ounces. She was all blanket and  hair and beauty. People stared at us as we exchanged baby and paperwork. I have to admit now, it must have appeared rather clandestine, but nothing could have been more right or more good.

The next morning, when I took 4 1/2-year-old Barbi to Noah’s Ark Preschool, she marched in the door and proudly announced to the room, “We went to McDonald’s. I got a Happy Meal and Mommy got a baby.”

The teachers and other parents stared with mouths agape as I stepped in holding our tiny Bonnie. All I could do was laugh, because Barbi had simply told the truth. After a few happy explanations, we made our trip to the cardiologist, where we learned that Bonnie’s condition wasn’t as serious as originally feared. While she did require surgery at eighteen months, she now has a normal–and very loving–heart.

Since that day in 1986, we went through another so-called “special needs” adoption of our son, Ben. As far as we’re concerned, the only special needs were ours, and our children have fulfilled them and then some.

Bonnie’s special all right, but not because of that extra number twenty-one chromosome. She’s special because she’s Bonnie. Her dad often said she was born missing the mean gene. He was right….

My husband is no longer with us, but every Mother’s Day I am surrounded by the love of our children, and blessed with the knowledge that each of them has his love and goodness to carry them through life.

———————————————————————

Maid Marian and the Lawman (Bell Bridge Books) tells the tale of a band of misfits who—much like Deb’s own family—discovers the joy of unconditional love and acceptance.

After declaring her candidacy for President at age four, Deb Stover veered off course to play Lois Lane for a number of years. After she refused to blow Clark Kent’s cover, she turned her attention to her own Real American Hero and married him. Considering her experience with Heroes, redirecting her passion for writing toward Romance Novels seemed a natural progression. For more information, please visit www.debstover.com

FIREWORKS, FEISTY HORSES AND FRISKY COWBOYS
Kathleen Eagle

If you’re ever in North Dakota on the Fourth of July, head straight for Mandan, “Where the West Begins.”   Bismarck and Mandanare the Twin Cities of North Dakota, and like my current home near the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul, the cities are separated by a great river—the Missouri in North Dakota and the Mississippi in Minnesota.  In both cases, a state capitol looks across the water at its sister city.  In both places, the two siblings have two very different personalities.  It’s East meets West personified, where cowboys and Indians may be one and the same.  My husband’s people, the Lakota, are sometimes called “West River Sioux.”  Their Dakota cousins’ homeland stretches from east of the Missouri as far as the Mississippi.

THIS TIME FOREVER, my latest release from Bell Bridge Books, begins as rodeo cowboy Cleve Black Horse runs into serious problems on his way to the annual Fourth of July Mandan Rodeo Days, advertised nowadays as “The Most Fun You Can Have With Your Boots On.”  You couldn’t prove it by Cleve—he didn’t make it to the rodeo—but I can tell you from experience that Fourth of July in Mandan, while maybe not the most fun I’ve ever had wearing boots, is definitely right up there in the top tier of good times.  When we lived in North Dakota, we rarely missed what I consider to be the real Western rodeo—outdoors, old-fashioned grandstand bleachers, clowns shouting out the same jokes you hear every year, a snow cone for every kid and a pretty blonde buckle bunny for every cowboy.

There’s an afternoon  parade down Main Street, of course, home of thriving local stores and lively saloons.  One of our favorite features is Art In the Park, where artists and crafters sell everything from fine pottery to funny whirligigs.  I have many treasures made by people I came to know through Art In the Park.  If you appreciate American Indian Art—and who doesn’t?—you’ll find it in the Five Nations Gallery at the Mandan Depot, which isn’t too far from the park.  One of the beauties of Mandanis that nothing is too far from anything else.

On “Patriot Night,” July 3, the rodeo committee does a fundraiser for the Wounded Warrior Project.  On the Fourth, the evening rodeo is followed by fireworks, made especially wondrous by the North Dakota night sky.  Most of my books are set in the Dakotas, where the sky is everywhere you look, and the stars are gloriously bright and abundant.  You have to see it for yourself.  Day or night, sunrise or sunset, no IMAX or Omni Theater or Biosphere will ever do justice to the Dakota sky.  It’s “America the Beautiful” in real life, real time.

And that’s what the Fourth of July is all about.  Have a good one!

Writing as a Mom

by Katherine Scott Crawford 

This month, everything is starting to bloom in my tiny town in the mountains of Western North Carolina. Heck, the trees began budding in February—early for us—and the daffodils are just beginning to show their sunny heads. Even the chickens in my neighbor’s chicken coop seem to be clucking more frequently, and with a bit of sass.

Yep, everything is blooming. Including my belly.

Well, that’s putting it kindly. I’m in my third trimester of pregnancy, and I currently resemble your basic ocean liner. From the front, from far away, if I’m wearing all black and you squint when you look at me, I still appear pretty normal. But then I turn sideways—slowly, very slowly—and the fog horns blow. I need one of those beepers moving vans have, to warn folks when I’m backing up. 

When I was pregnant with my first child, now three and a half years old, I couldn’t count the number of people who told me, “Oh, you’ll be so inspired by pregnancy and motherhood. Think of all you’ll have to write about!”

And while I’m certain this will, at some point, be the case, for the most part it’s been hogwash.

For some reason, when I’m “with child,” my body blooms and my brain power wilts. That baby just sucks up all my creative juices (and my reason) like one of those expensive and super-powered Dyson vacuum cleaners. You know, the kind that can take down dog hair. 

I’m quickly discovering why many of my favorite writers, especially women, published their first novels in their mid-forties and beyond: their kids were grown.

Just as no one really tells you when you become pregnant about how your backside will start to look like—as Olympia Dukakis so eloquently put it in Steel Magnolias—“two pigs fightin’ under a blanket,” no one tells you that pregnancy and new motherhood can zap your creative juices. That you’ll be so exhausted you’ll fall asleep by 9 p.m.

That when you’re sitting in the rocking chair in your child’s bedroom, and you bend over to pick up a book off the floor, you’ll topple over like a felled tree. Oh, wait. Maybe that’s just me.

They joys of motherhood, and yes—even sometimes pregnancy—are at times too many to count. My lips are beautifully full these days. If the rest of me didn’t look like a beach ball, they’d be pretty hot. And that baby movement across the belly, the roll and tumble of a sweet new life, is beyond cool.

As for my writing mojo? That powerful magic that appears when all my creative cylinders are firing? Well, heck. It’s taking a 9 month siesta. And if this new baby is anything like my first child, that siesta might stretch into a whole year. But I’m okay with this. Or at least I’m learning to deal with it.

Why? Because I know the mojo will be back, and will appear at the oddest of times. Kind of like all those lovely blooms popping up in my town … evidence of an early Spring.  

Keowee Valley is $1.99 today at Amazon and Apple.

Katherine Scott Crawford was born and raised in the blue hills of the South Carolina Upcountry, the history and setting of which inspired Keowee Valley. Winner of a North Carolina Arts Award, she is a former newspaper reporter and outdoor educator, a college English teacher, and an avid hiker. She lives with her family in the mountains of Western North Carolina, where she tries to resist the siren call of her passport as she works on her next novel. Visit her at: www.katherinescottcrawford.com.