The Bayou Bachelors #2
by Geri Krotow
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Pub Date: 9/11/2018
Returning to her flooded New Orleans home to face Henry Boudreaux, the man she jilted at the altar, is the hardest thing attorney Sonja Bosco has ever done—even before she discovers she’s pregnant. Sonja backed out of the marriage for Henry’s sake. He wants to be part of his father’s law firm, and his parents will never approve of an interracial marriage. Better to bruise his heart than ruin his life.
Henry can’t forgive Sonja, and doubts that he can trust her again. But learning that they’re going to be parents means there’s no avoiding each other. Springtime on the bayou is already steamy enough…now they’re living in the same small space while their damaged house is repaired. And with each passing day they’re getting a little more honest. A lot more real. And realizing that nothing—not even New Orleans at Mardi Gras—glows brighter than the desire they’re trying to deny…
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She knew the exact night she’d conceived the baby. Her body had felt ‘different’ after the lovemaking session with Henry that had lasted the better part of a late winter night after they’d won a particularly challenging case. At first she hadn’t been able to pinpoint it and blamed her exhaustion on prenuptial jitters. The week before the wedding her breasts swelled, her nipples became sensitive to the shower spray, and she’d felt as though her period was about to start at any moment. But of course it hadn’t. She’d known two days before the wedding for sure. Thank God she’d only shared it with Poppy. If Henry had known she didn’t think she’d have been able to walk away from marrying him as she had.
The memory of leaving her soulmate at the altar made the pastry feel heavy in her stomach and she paused, closing her eyes and breathing in and out slowly to ward off a wave of nausea. Anytime she remembered their wedding day she felt sick all over again.
“Is it that good?” Her eyes flew open at the sexy baritone that only a few weeks ago had coaxed an orgasm out of her as he spoke dirty words into her ear while he moved over her, inside her, again and again.
“It’s delicious.” She put the croissant down on a napkin, next to her stack of files. Henry’s gaze dared her to look away and she never backed down from anyone, so she stared back. A quick flash of disgust shadowed his face before Henry looked away and sat in the seat opposite her, reaching over for his files. Usually they sat together, ready to work until whenever it took to get the day’s items checked off. It wasn’t going to get easy, ever, to know he thought so little of her. Knowing she deserved it for something he didn’t even know about yet—the baby—made it worse.
“I imagine you need time to go over these.” A deft verbal pitch to see how she’d react. Would she go high, admit she should have been back in the office last week, or go low and blame him for her staying away, or ignore it? “Alesia sent me the files last week. I’ve read through them all.”
He had to be playing her—Alesia told Henry everything. He’d know she’d had copies to analyze. Their roundtrip tickets to Bali had gone unused, so it wasn’t as if she’d been out of the country and unable to do any work.
“Any concerns?” He kept his face low, focused on the paperwork, but she saw the blood vessel just above his collar, pulsing in rhythm to his heartbeat. Whenever Henry was agitated that was his tell. She used to like to lick it right before he came. Heat erupted between her legs and made her squirm. Apparently her guilt over not telling him about the baby wasn’t the only reaction she couldn’t shake. She clasped her legs together under the heavy mahogany table, grateful Henry didn’t have x-ray vision.
“No, nothing to speak of.” Her voice was low and throaty and she wished she’d tendered her resignation. It would be so much easier, especially now when every damned hormone in her body was setting off emotions she didn’t even know she was capable of. But a deft noncompete clause she’d signed when his father had hired her prevented her from going out on her own just yet.
Brilliant blue eyes watched her with usual alertness. “You sure about that, Sonja? You’re acting like something’s not sitting right with you.”
“It’s just this.” She motioned very slighting between them, using her finger. “Awkward with a capital ‘A,’ am I right? We didn’t talk about it as much as we probably should have this morning.”
Of course dearest Deidre’s appearance had shut down any chance of the conversation they needed to have in private. The curiosity in his eyes turned to frosted crystal.
“Let’s get it out on the table, then.” He splayed both hands on the dark polished surface, and she wondered if he’d forgotten about the time they’d both arrived to work early, too early. They’d ended up here, naked, in under five minutes. Did he see her naked body as she’d knelt on all fours, waiting for him to take her?
“There is nothing here. Whatever we shared was wiped out when you decided to ignore my attempt to explain my actions to you.”
“Wait a min—”
“No, hold up.” He shot down her attempt to interrupt him with a flick of his hand. “You made your choice. And you’ve decided to continue on at this firm. We both need to raise the funds to get the house rehabbed well enough to sell. Fine, I get it. But don’t think for one minute that there is anything other than our working relationship at stake. We’ve always enjoyed that, correct? And I’m willing to work with you, until the day you decide to leave the firm. Because, let’s face it, I’m not going anywhere. This is my family firm. You, you’ll go out on your own or take a better offer elsewhere. That’s okay. Until then I expect the best you have to offer, and for you to kindly refrain from referring to what we shared. It’s over.”
Sonja stared at the man who’d hung the moon for her and only saw the stamp of Boudreaux on his expression. The same look his father had when she’d told him to take the money and referral he’d offered her to quit when she and Henry announced their engagement and shove them up his tight white racist ass. He’d never fire her, not as a black woman in his otherwise very white, very male firm. And regardless of his racist views, Sonja brought in a lot of business for their firm that they’d otherwise never catch. She’d expected Henry’s father to give her a hard time, but not so much Henry. She’d been a fool.
“Our professional relationship never had anything to do with our personal life. Why should it now?”
Henry didn’t respond but instead glared at her. He may as well have thrown a machete at her for how his silent gesture pained her.
The door clicked open and Alesia entered with trays of lunch food, followed by two clients and Rick, the firm’s other NOLA attorney. As she and Henry stood to greet them she eyed her almost-husband. Her ex-fiancé. The man who’d broken her heart.
Henry was tall and professional looking, whether dressed in a classic suit as he was now or in cargo shorts and a t-shirt like yesterday. He’d been born to inherit his father’s firm, a lawyer’s mind part of his gene pool. And until their wedding weekend, she hadn’t seen that he’d also inherited the insatiable need to make everything appear perfect. Hence the pristine wedding they’d almost gone through with.
Henry wasn’t a people pleaser though, especially not to his parents. He’d bucked their sensibilities and desires by choosing to marry her, a black woman from a bayou family. Henry had never seen her as anything other than the woman he’d decided to marry. She believed that. What Henry had refused to see, however, was that his father was never going to leave the firm to Henry as long as Sonja was his wife. The firm was going to be dissolved and all of his father’s money given to charity, eschewing being generous to either of his sons. Henry’s younger sister, a social worker, was in the naval reserves and somewhere overseas, so she wasn’t even on the family radar. She hadn’t gone to law school; neither had Henry’s younger brother Brandon. It wasn’t about the money, which was significant, but about family legacy. Henry was the man to change it, to turn the law firm into a contemporary, relevant part of the community, serving diverse clients and causes. He saw that corporate law didn’t have to mean serving the same good ol’ boys his father had.
But Henry would never have the chance to improve upon his family legacy if she were around. The younger siblings had gotten the hell away from the family dynasty. But not Henry. Henry needed to be part of his father’s legacy in a way the other two didn’t. Because Sonja saw this, saw the need in the man she loved so desperately, she’d had no choice but to back out of their marriage. She’d do anything for Henry’s happiness, and Henry would never be happy without knowing he’d made a difference in what his father had began. He’d never forgive her for leaving him the way she did and that was all right. Sonja didn’t want Henry’s forgiveness. She’d wanted his love, understanding and trust, but her expectations had been too much.
Henry didn’t have it to give.
And as she watched him, the one man she’d ever pinned all her hopes on, she had to face the cold hard truth. She was as unworthy of trust as Henry.
The Bayou Bachelors #1
New York City stylist Poppy Kaminsky knows that image is everything, which is why she’s so devastated when hers is trashed on social media—after a very public meltdown over her cheating fiancé. Her best friend’s New Orleans society wedding gives her the chance hide out and lick her wounds...
Brandon Boudreaux is in no mood to party. His multi-million dollar sailboat business is in danger of sinking thanks to his partner’s sudden disappearance—with the company’s funds. And when he rolls up to his estranged brother’s pre-wedding bash in an airboat, a cold-as-ice friend of the bride looks at him like he’s so much swamp trash.
The last person Poppy should get involved with is the bad boy of the Boudreaux family. But they have more in common than she could ever imagine—and the steamy, sultry New Orleans nights are about to show her how fun letting loose can be…
“New Orleans serves as a strong supporting character in Fully Dressed as Krotow gives an inside view on the sights, sounds, and tastes of the bayou.” --RT Book Reviews
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Poppy Amberlin Kaminsky had never been so happy to hear her real name, no matter that she’d spent the last eight hours and had taken a taxi, train, and plane to do so. All to get to a place she swore she’d never come back to after a Spring Break visit almost a decade ago.
It was hard to tell whether the New Orleans’ Bayou air or her best friend’s cloud of Kate Spade Live Colorfully perfume embraced her first, but once Sonja’s arms crushed her against the familiar curvaceous figure of her college bestie, it didn’t matter. Poppy meant to give the bride-to-be a reassuring, ‘glad to see you’ hug, but instead ended up holding on for dear life. Tears shoved past her carefully made-up eyes, threatening to drip off her lash extensions. They were the only part of her previous life that she’d kept.
Sonja pulled back and stared. “Let me get a good look at you. What the hell did you do to your hair?”
Sonja’s expression reflected the shock Poppy had also experienced at her first glance of her new ‘do. Gone was her, or rather, Amber’s, signature sleek brunette bob. Her wild waves were back, as was her honey blonde ombre, albeit with a little more brass. She self-consciously reached for her bleached locks. “It’s part of my get-away disguise.” As was the huge pair of sunglasses she’d worn from New York City to Louisiana, which had worked since she’d garnered minimal attention on her flight. An unusual event for Poppy since being publicly dumped and Twitter-shamed by her ex-boyfriend. ‘Ex’ as in ‘I want to draw an ‘X’ across his face every time I see it.’ “It’s my real color, so at least the roots will grow out with no issue.”
“Aw, boo.” Sonja lifted the shades from Poppy’s nose as she uttered the Cajun endearment and Poppy wanted to weep with the relief of having the one person who really knew her—who got who she was, who she’d been, how far she’d come—look into her eyes and smile with no judgment. “That rat-ass did a number on you, didn’t he?”
Poppy shrugged. “Screw him. That’s history, baby. Two months and twelve hundred miles away. I’m here, and you’re getting married!” They both squealed and hugged, hopping around as if they were still college roommates with big dreams in front of them. Intact dreams that weren’t shattered in skin-piercing shards about their feet, as were Poppy’s.
“I can’t wait for you to meet Henry.” Sonja gushed as she opened the hatch of her BMW SUV and reached for Poppy’s tote. “And he can’t wait to meet you.” Poppy put her sunglasses back on and took in the upgraded Sonja. Gone was the straightened shoulder-length hair of their college days, replaced with a sexy soft afro. Lustrous pearl drop earrings set off Sonja’s mocha skin. No more flip flops but designer wedge sandals. Sandals that matched her thousand-dollar bag.
“What?” Sonja didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, these old things?” She posed like the magazine model she resembled but after a split second bent over in laughter, her smile flashing as honest and warm as it had ever been. “Poppy, you look like you can’t believe it. A nice paycheck and fancy clothes aren’t exclusive to New York City.”
“Did I ever say they were?”
“You don’t have to. Hell, I’ve been trying to get you here for years and I had to go and get knocked up and married before you showed.”
Poppy’s stomach flipped. “You’re pregnant?”
“Surprise!” Sonja threw her arms up in a big ‘V’, joy radiating from every inch of her curvy frame. Which was about to grow rounder. “But it’s going to have to be our secret. It’s super early, but I have all the signs and symptoms. I’m waiting until our wedding night to tell Henry. That man is always surprising me, spoiling me, and I want to be able to do it for him, just once.” Sonja’s eyes sparkled the way Poppy had once dreamed hers would. Once she was married and having Will’s babies.
“How exciting!” Her response sounded so lame even to her own ears. It wasn’t Sonja’s fault that Poppy had planned to be pregnant with her own baby by now, after having her own spectacular wedding on Will’s yacht as it cruised Long Island Sound. She decided on the spot to save her pity-party for later. This weekend her wounds had to remain in her room, away from Sonja and the gazillions of Louisianan’s she was about to meet. She hadn’t packed mini-bottles of Maker’s Mark and a two-pound bag of Hershey’s kisses for nothing. Although as the heat was already weighing in on her, she’d be lucky if the chocolate drops weren’t all mush.
Brushing her ruminations aside, Poppy leaned forward and gave Sonja a solid kiss on the cheek, seriously happy for her friend. And for herself—it was a relief to close the door on her sad life for the next few days. “We have a lot of catching up to do. I know it’s your big weekend, and that we can’t do it all now, but I have to tell you I’m so thrilled to be here with you, and happy that you’ve found your soul mate.”
Sonja laughed and gave her another quick hug before she hustled them both into the car and drove away from the New Orleans airport.
“How much of this do you remember from Freshman Spring Break?” Sonja spoke loudly as she had the sunroof open and the windows halfway down. The tropical air that blew against Poppy’s face was a balm after the chill that remained in New York’s still-slumbering spring.
“I remember that,” Poppy pointed at the Super Dome as they sped by it, “and I remember it being a lot muggier than it is right now.”
“It’s supposed to get ugly by Saturday but I’m hoping the rain stays away at least until Sunday. All I’m asking is for the wedding to go off smoothly and for Henry and I to get out of here for our honeymoon.”
Poppy nodded, not wanting to share that the weather app on her phone predicted rain in a big way starting tomorrow, early. Before the rehearsal dinner. “The ceremony’s all inside, right?”
“Of course. Henry’s from a long line of Catholics—they wouldn’t be happy with anything but a full-on Mass. They wanted it at Our Lady of the Rosary downtown. It’s where Henry’s little sister went to school so they have ties there. But we ended up picking St Louis Cathedral. We love the history of it.”
“Our Lady help of what?” Poppy had been raised in a Polish-Catholic enclave of Western New York and her own parish had been Our Lady Help of Christians but she couldn’t help teasing Sonja, the professed agnostic.
Sonja laughed. “You haven’t changed one bit. Don’t even try to tell me that you’re not the same girl I met in college.”
“Okay, I won’t.” It wasn’t the weekend to tell Sonja that any belief in something greater than herself had sailed away with Will’s humiliating betrayal.
“Where do you live again? I know you said it was outside of the city but not far from the French Quarter. Is it near where you grew up?” New Orleans was behind them and they appeared to be following signs for the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway.
“Did you even read the invitation, Poppy?” Sonja softened her sharp query with a wide grin.
“I did.” And promptly forgot the details as her life had been entrenched in trying to put a positive spin on the bad press over her broken engagement. Broken engagement, hell. More like the most obscene, humiliating dump by a man ever. Her entire professional reputation had been sunk by the painful break-up from Will. The Twitter and Instagram shaming had taken off after Poppy’s very public Plaza meltdown in front of Will’s family. She’d appeared every part the screaming banshee she still felt like.
“Well, I know you’re a busy gal. I used to think I was, too, but then I met Henry, and now we’re having a baby, and we’ve been planning the wedding for over a year…” Sonja changed lanes to avoid a trailer hauling what appeared to be a load of empty cages. “Let’s just say I didn’t know what ‘busy’ meant.” Sonja’s profile hadn’t changed, nor had her effusive warmth and positive energy. She’d always been the bubbly one in their relationship, while Poppy was more deliberate and definitely less talkative. Sonja always seemed so much more certain of herself. Of life.
Poppy looked out her passenger window. Of course Sonja was grounded and happy. Most twenty-eight year olds had a good idea of where they wanted their life to go, right?
Except Poppy. Whoa. Pity party is later.
Sonja playfully tapped her thigh. “Listen up. Our new home, where you’re going to housesit, is in the little town of Millerville. It’s nothing like where I’m from, closer to the city. My parents are still in a bit of shock that someone from New Orleans society has asked me to marry him, and Henry’s parents are, well, coming around. Let’s just say this isn’t New York City, right?” Sonja tapped her long fingers on the steering wheel. Poppy sensed there was more emotion under Sonja’s casual demeanor. “Our house is huge, on the river, and it’s spectacular if I do say so myself. Roomy, with a huge deck to enjoy the water view. We even have a small guest cottage. But you’ll stay in the main house, of course. You’re going to love the greenery after all that concrete.” Sonja and Henry were both attorneys for the generations-old Southern law firm owned by Henry’s family. It’s how they’d met, when Henry’s father had hired her.
“So things are still going well with the firm? No conflicts of interest with Henry’s family?”
“It’s his parents that have issues with our marriage, and they’re all calmed down for the time being. By that I mean they haven’t requested any more meetings with us, to try to persuade us differently. And they’re not totally awful people, if you ignore the ‘Henry’s marrying a black girl from the bayou’ ‘tude.” Sonja adjusted her sunglasses and pursed her lips. “I hate seeing him so torn up about this. They’ve given him such a hard time over marrying me. As if I’d sully their good family name. It’s the god damn twenty-first century.”
“From what you’ve told me, Henry’s family is very old school.”
“Say it like you mean it, girl. You mean ‘bigots with old money’ and they sure are careful about anyone who gets close to it! Hiring me was one thing; my résumé speaks for itself. I made them look as if they were diversifying the partners by hiring a black woman who wasn’t family, and I wasn’t a threat to the family bank account or gene pool. They put me in the New Orleans office, of course, far from where his father runs the offices in Baton Rouge. But having their son fall in love with me? Another thing entirely. This wasn’t part of their equal opportunity plan.”
“But they’ve decided to come to the wedding, and are supporting you both now, right?”
Sonja stayed silent for several minutes. Poppy waited, knowing that her friend was trying to keep a positive spin on the ugly circumstance. “Let’s hope so. It’s either that or look like the asses they are. They’re often in print in the society pages. I’m betting they’ll show, at least for the professional photographs.” Sonja’s smirk forced a quick laugh from Poppy. Laughter. Not something she’d been doing much of.
“Doesn’t sound much different than New York. The high society part, I mean.” The sun was healing on her nape as the rays reached through the open sunroof.
“Trust me, when it comes to high society, they’re all the same. Just not the bigoted part.” Sonja made a lane change and gratitude washed over Poppy in a brilliant wave of nostalgia. Sonja was every bit the open, honest young woman she’d been years ago. “Enough about the wedding drama. I don’t want to spend our precious time together talking about Henry’s parents. Are you still sure you can stay here for the full two weeks to housesit?”
“Are you kidding me? You’ve seen the latest on my Instagram and Twitter accounts, right? Before I shut them down, that is. I can’t go back to New York, not yet. You’re doing me the favor by giving me a safe place to catch my breath. I have a lot to work on, with the new Attitude by Amber deal.” Poppy was excited to have Sonja and Henry’s waterfront home to escape to. No paparazzi, no constant stream of Instagram pics of her at her worst moments. Leaving the gym with her consolatory Ben and Jerry’s nights displayed prominently in the width of her ass, walking in or out of her apartment with that awful pinched look on her face that she felt down to her toes.
“I am so thrilled for you, Poppy. I read that they’re saying you’re the new Nate Berkus. This is so incredible! My college roommate, the country’s darling stylist. I’m so proud of you for landing this deal with what, every single most important store in North America? You’re on the brink of being a gazillionaire. You know that, right?”
The money wouldn’t be in her accounts until the actual launch of her custom line of clothing, furniture and home accessories. With her personal stylist business accounts frozen, she was feeling more than vulnerable, financially. But Sonja didn’t need to know about Poppy’s money woes. “I’m lucky, yes. But after a while, how much does anyone really need?”
Sonja’s smile disappeared and she gave Poppy one of her classic “don’t bullshit me” looks. “Let’s get real, honey. As in, how are you really doing, Poppy? You’ve sounded better on the phone this past week, but I can’t say you’re looking your best.” Sonja was right; she had felt better this week. Until the last round of tweets from Will. And the threatening private texts from her former assistant, Tori. Nothing she was going to talk to Sonja about now, during Sonja’s wedding weekend. No ma’am.
“Thanks a lot! I don’t have much makeup on, and I’m a little tired. Things are better. I’m better. Really.”
“Is that so?” Sonja frowned. “Remember me, Poppy? The one who knows you better than anyone else?”
“Yes, you do, and you’re right—this has been hard. But I’m doing a lot better. Sure, the psycho tweets and photos suck but it’s not about me. I’m not the crazy one here.” It was never about her, even when she and Will had been together. That was what probably hurt the most. Not disappointment in herself that she’d broken her own personal ethics code and dated a client, nor that she’d believed what she’d seen too many women fall for: that she’d be the one to change him. That Will Callis, billionaire entrepreneur and famous playboy, would stop whoring around and settle down for one woman. Her.
She’d been partially right. Because Will had changed and settled down, but not with her. The new and improved Will was on this very same weekend marrying her former personal assistant, a twenty-one year old college intern. Who was five months pregnant with his child.
Will had been screwing around on her for more than half of their engagement, at a minimum.
“So what will you do? When you go back to New York?”
Poppy watched the water that surrounded the causeway, finding the deep shade of blue soothing. “I’ll become the goddess of American style. It’ll be a full-time job running Attitude by Amber. I never have to style another person again if I don’t want to.” She ignored the New York City part. Of course she’d go back to New York. It was where she belonged.
“Oh, Poppy. I hope you mean it. I never thought being a personal stylist was the best job for you. You’re too smart to just cater to other people. And Will wasn’t the guy for you, sugar.”
“Sounds like you’ve been talking to my family again.” Poppy’s mother and sister had at first resented that she’d made it out of their downtrodden suburb, away from their sorry family drama, and made a name for herself. Until they realized her earnings could be their ticket out, too. Her mother had been vociferous about her suspicions that Poppy had somehow bought her engagement to Will. Why would he want a girl like her, after all?
“I beg your pardon. I’d never sound like them.”
“No, you won’t, and you don’t. I’m sorry, Sonja. It’s just that they’ve always thought Will was crazy to date me, and wondered what he saw in me.”
“Poppy Kaminsky. I never want to hear that out of your mouth again. Will is a lying no-good bastard. You deserve better, so much better. And why are you taking any kind of relationship advice from your family?”
Because even though she’d survived her upbringing and against all odds made it into the big-time, a happily-ever-after love wasn’t in the cards for Poppy. She was just like her mother and sister, and grandmother and aunt, and all the women in her family. They didn’t find true love with the men in their lives. Birds flew, bees buzzed, and men left.
Poppy had outrun the poverty of her childhood, the struggles of a fatherless family. And ran headfirst into the wall that derailed all of the Kaminsky women.
Men liked Poppy; they might even love her at times. But men didn’t stick around in her life. Poppy wasn’t a woman men gave everything up for.
Which wasn’t a problem for her, because Poppy had everything she needed. Good friends, a great paycheck, or well, soon-to-be humongous paycheck, and freedom to do whatever she wanted.
After the haters stopped stalking her and Twitter judging every aspect of her life.
Prior to writing, Geri served for nine years as a Naval Intelligence Officer. Geri served as the Aviation/Anti-Submarine Warfare Intelligence officer for a P-3C squadron during which time she deployed to South America, Europe, and Greenland. She was the first female Intel officer on the East Coast to earn Naval Aviation Observer Wings. Geri also did a tour in the war on drugs, working with several different government and law enforcement agencies. Geri is grateful to be settled in south central Pennsylvania with her husband.
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First, I don’t believe in writer’s block as an existential crisis. Sometimes writers need a break—after a serious illness, the death of a loved one, a protracted series of deadlines that have led to burnout. As a general rule of thumb, I try to take good care of myself to avoid the worst pitfalls of writing. This means a good night’s sleep, regular refilling of my creative well ala Julia Cameron, and the basics of good fitness and nutrition. If the words aren’t flowing then I’m procrastinating for a reason–maybe I don’t have the characters as fleshed out in my mind as I need them to be, or perhaps I haven’t figured out why these two people should be together, in love, in their own happily-ever-after or happily-ever-after-for-now. Sometimes I need to take out a pencil (and sharpener!) and brainstorm on a legal pad, or go for a long walk. When I’m putting the words down, however, I can do that anywhere–I take my iPad Pro everywhere and write in all kinds of fancy and not-so-nice coffee shops. I’ve been known to get words in while sitting in my car, waiting on a child at drama or sports practice. Now that I’m an official empty nester, I’m able to write for longer stretches at home or out and about. But it always comes back to knowing my hero and heroine (and villain if applicable) and forging ahead with the next scene.
You say it took six years of submissions (and rejections!) to sell your first novel. Why did you keep going?Why not? I wish I had the “magic” formula for how long it takes to sell, to make a bestseller list, to write the best story ever. The answer is that it’s different for each and every writer. The venue, be it indie-pubbed, digital-first, paperback, etc–doesn’t matter. What matters is STORY. It will take the rest of my life to be able to make the words on the page accurately reflect the vision in my mind. That said, even if I decided to “leave” writing and enter corporate life, nothing would change–I’d still be a writer. Writers write.–
Today I keep going because it’s clear from the readers I meet and my reader mail that these stories about military characters and families are important and worth the extra effort to get them to the page. My gratitude to our vets will never be deep enough.
Where do your ideas come from?
I’ve asked my writer pals about this, and the answer is different for each of us. I have a friend who outlines her entire story before she even gets to know her hero or heroine. Another friend uses a cork board, and many make collages of their story before writing. My characters usually come to me first. They show up like snippets of films in different settings, and from there I start the hard work. Some stories find me writing like a mad woman, hour after hour, straight through the first draft. Others require months of research. My stories seem to be as varied as my friends!
What’s your favorite way to have fun?
Anything with my family–right now we enjoy watching “Modern Family” together, and sitting down at the same table for a meal. A family vacation is always great but with two adult children we have to get creative with all of our schedules. Did I mention knitting? I knit during television programs/movies, and through all vacations, and I even go on knitting retreats/workshop weekends. Our dog and parrot bring a lot of fun to the mix, too. I often post about them via social media. Not the exciting, glamorous life of an author that you expected? Me either, but I’m so grateful to be able to have a more quiet life in order to make space for the stories and characters to come down and fill up those pages!
To what do you credit your success?
Perseverance. Great mentors. Networking. Bottom line: having a saleable product. I’ve watched so many writers quit after receiving yet another rejection. This isn’t a business for anyone who needs instant gratification. My satisfaction has to come from the process of putting the story down on paper, or I’d never make it. That said, it’s sooo easy to get side-tracked by market trends, the latest way to get my story “out there,” and of course, the Goo Goo Dolls. Is that ‘Iris’ I hear?
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