I’m happy to welcome best-selling author Liz Flaherty. Today, Liz shares the two acts of her life and her new release, A Year of Firsts.

Here’s Liz!

My first act was my life’s dream. I had a family I loved, a job I liked a lot, a house, and friends. It was, like everyone else’s dream-come-true, if one likes roller coasters. Fortunately, I do—or did then. Although the years were happy, there were also the days of being overwhelmed, of sitting alone in the bathroom wondering what to do, of having three teenagers in the house. In the middle of it was a year of “can this marriage be saved?” (It could.) I had months of hating the job and wept a gazillion tears over the kids. I couldn’t wait for it all to be over.

Until it was. Act One, Scene Two came with the empty nest. It was okay, much less hectic. Not nearly as much fun, but I had more writing time. I had a book published. Then a few more.

Then I retired, and Act Two happened because Act One ended.

It’s been such a surprise. Writing fulltime doesn’t mean I get more written—it means I waste more time. Marriage in retirement age isn’t easy—it’s hard! Losing friends no matter how you lose them, with death, dementia, and lack of interest taking center stage, is painful.

But those are the bad days. The good ones…no, the good years… are so good they’re hard to describe. The marriage is more fun, as is traveling, having remarkable grandchildren, and laughing with friends and family until your stomach hurts. The good days are most of them.

And then there’s the writing… And that’s where I am now. I’ve never been one to keep count of things, so I’m not sure how many books and novellas (and rejections) there have been, but, like I said before, they’ve been good years.

A Year of Firsts, Book One in the Second Chances series for Magnolia Blossom Publishing, is the story of Syd and Clay, whose own Act Twos are up the air and—for Clay at least—might be doubtful. I had so much joy and not a little angst writing this story. I hope you have that much pleasure in the reading, too.

Blurb

Widow Syd Cavanaugh is beginning a “year of firsts” with the road trip she’d promised her husband she’d take after his death. An unplanned detour lands her in Fallen Soldier, Pennsylvania, where she meets the interesting and intelligent editor of the local paper.

Television journalist Clay McAlister’s life took an unexpected turn when a heart attack forced him to give up his hectic lifestyle. He’s still learning how to live in a small town when meeting a pretty traveler in the local coffee shop suddenly makes it all much more interesting.

While neither of them is interested in a romantic relationship, their serious case of being “in like” seems to push them that way. However, Clay’s heart condition doesn’t harbinger a very secure future, and Syd’s already lost one man she loved to a devastating illness—she isn’t about to lose another. Where can this relationship possibly go?

Excerpt

If I fall in love again, this will be how it happens.

The thought came from nowhere she could identify, although she knew deep in her soul that it had to do with the tall man in shorts and a polo shirt walking up the incline of her yard to meet her. The man whose heart would likely not last as long as her own, whose every wince made her fear he was having a heart attack. His attitude toward exercise and diet was that of the middle-aged man in perfect health he appeared to be, not one who had a zipper-like scar up the center of his chest.

But just the sight of him, with his light brown hair that needed cutting blowing into his eyes even though his graying beard was as always short and neat, made her heart beat harder and faster. She smiled, remembering his explanation of why he had a beard.

At first he’d said it was because he had a weak chin he didn’t want anyone to notice, but then he’d admitted it had been an ongoing struggle between him and a producer of his show. “He was pushy and I was usually compliant. It was a great gig and I knew it. But it got to where he wanted to…create the brand he wanted me to be, I guess. I mostly went along because he was a pretty smart guy who knew his stuff, but when I came back from vacation with a beard and he gave the order to have it gone before I went on the air, it became the proverbial last straw.”

Everyone had last straws sometimes, she thought abstractedly, stopping and waiting for him to join her. “Rehearsal was okay, wasn’t it?” she said, thinking her voice sounded horrifyingly breathy. It went along with the movie scenario. “I didn’t make a complete idiot of myself, did I? Or mess things up for other people? I never want to do that. Where’s Toby?”

Of course, she didn’t. People who were pocket protectors protected not only themselves, but others from themselves.

During all the long months of his illness, Paul had never seen her angry. She’d confined that to times alone. She’d hidden her anger to protect him, yet it had probably created a chasm between them. She should have let him see her last straws sometimes.

“He’s asleep. Braxton is staying the night.” Clay didn’t hesitate as he joined her, just put his arms around her and led her into a dance. “You were great.”

Syd wasn’t a good dancer, by any means. When friends used to tell her to “listen for the beat,” she always said, “what beat?” because she could never hear it. But she’d loved to dance anyway. It was emotion in motion, and sometimes…sometimes after Paul got sick it had been better than running screaming into the woods behind the house, which had been both an alternative and a temptation. Abba and Billy Joel and Journey had often brought some semblance of peace to the crashing cacophony of her anger.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d danced in a man’s arms—probably at the girls’ weddings, when Paul was already having trouble moving but had been determined to dance not only with Haley and Shiloh but with Syd as well. It had been excruciating, the fear that he would fall and be injured or become so exhausted he couldn’t stay to enjoy the receptions.

The memory was fleeting, and of happy times, and then it was just Clay McAlister. Taller and more muscled than Paul had been, his arms creating a circle of light for just the two of them as they danced across the grass.

When he kissed her in the shade of the willow tree, she wasn’t sure where the stars came from, only that they filled her eyes and, for a long and tender moment, her heart. She’d been so tired when she came outside, but weariness gave way to the magic of the clear night and being in Clay McAlister’s arms. She’d set her glass down somewhere, or he had, leaving her arms free to go around him.

It couldn’t go anywhere, whatever “it,” this meeting of hearts and minds, was. She couldn’t go through it again, the caring for and ultimate losing of a man she loved. She didn’t think Clay wanted to settle into a committed relationship, either, and she didn’t know how to have any other kind.

“Boat ride?” he said quietly, meeting her gaze in the dim lights from the deck.

She nodded. That much, she could do. Saying no never even occurred to her.

Buy Links

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Bio

Retired from the Logansport post office, Liz Flaherty spends non-writing time sewing, quilting, and doing whatever else she wants to. She and her husband Duane live in the old farmhouse in North Central Indiana they moved to in 1977. They’ve talked about moving, but really…40-plus years’ worth of stuff? It’s not happening. It would require removing old baseball trophies from the attic and dusting the pictures of the Magnificent Seven, their grandchildren.

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I’m happy to welcome back Wild Rose Press author Jennifer Wilck. Today, Jennifer shares her reinvention story and new release, Unlock My Heart.

Here’s Jennifer!

Reinvention is an awesome thing, and one I think many women find themselves doing at some point in their lives. I know I’ve done it, and for anyone who is considering reinventing themselves, my advice is GO FOR IT!

When I graduated college, I worked in public relations for several firms in New York City. I loved my job. I loved meeting people, finding out what messages they needed to convey, and figuring out ways to do that. It was exciting. I learned how to pitch story ideas to editors, how to translate complicated technology descriptions into common English that the average person could understand, and to help clients through product releases. I must confess, my favorite part was hiding behind my youth—sitting in a client meeting, quietly listening to what the men thought they wanted, and finally speaking up with an idea and watching their expressions turn from shock to acceptance to admiration. It was a nice ego boost.

Eventually, I realized I liked the writing part the best, and I moved over to the editorial side, where I worked for technology magazines. Again, I loved it. It was a bit of a reinvention, but more like flipping to the other side of the same coin. Now I sought out the companies, read the press releases, interviewed people who could have been former clients. I loved the writing, but there was less creativity involved. I had to stick to the facts, rather than coming up with marketing campaigns. My creative juices were less in demand, but I drew pride in writing for myself rather than for a client and seeing my byline rather than my clients’.

I took time off when I had children, lucky enough to be able to devote my time to them. But something was missing. I needed a creative outlet for everything that was whirring in my brain. And so, I reinvented myself again. I’d always been a romance reader. I read lots of different genres, but romance made me happy. I liked the happily ever after endings and the escapism. One day, when my girls were sleeping, I wrote down a story in my head. That story eventually turned into my first romance, A Heart of Little Faith. From then on, I was hooked. I learned everything I could about my craft—I’m still learning—as well as the business side. I entered contests, queried editors and agents, and eventually landed with my current publisher, The Wild Rose Press. I’m a hybrid author, so I also self-publish (that first romance, along with two more, Whispers in Washington and Better Together in Boston). And I was lucky enough to find an agent who I hope will help me find a home for a manuscript I’ve been working on for a long time.

Reinvention is scary. It’s easy to stay with what you know. But if you listen to your inner voice, you can do it. Talk to others. There are a lot of us out there who have done it. We’re happy to share our successes and failures.

Blurb

Abby Marlow, computer security expert, lands a job at the best IT security firm in the country. Her sole focus is financial independence so she never has to rely on others again, especially a man. But why does her boss make her wires short circuit?

Ted Endicott, CEO and founder of the IT security firm, is hard of hearing. Although an expert in his field, he’s still uncomfortable admitting his difficulty hearing to his clients or employees. So why is he willing to accept Abby’s help?

As Ted and Abby work together, barriers fall away, and soon the lines blur between colleagues and lovers. But a security glitch in a client’s system indicates one of his employees is the hacker, and all signs point to Abby. Can they get past the suspicion and find a future together?

Tagline: Can love break through their firewalls?

Excerpt

“You always run alone?”

She pointed to a nearby jogger. “I’m not alone.”

“But you’re not with anyone.”

Standing this close to him, she wished for things she shouldn’t. “No, I’m not.”

“How far are you going?”

“The end of the trail and back.” Or however long it
took to get him out of her mind.

He put his helmet on. “Come on, I’ll keep you company.”

“It’s not necessary.” Clearing her mind would be impossible with him next to her.

“It’s safer this way.” He looked down the trail. His desire to protect her sent warmth curling up and down her spine. It had been a long time since anyone was concerned about her. All of a sudden, the idea of company appealed to her. Touching his arm— and trying not to squeeze his bicep like you would if you tested the ripeness of a peach—she waited for him to turn. “You’re welcome to join me if you want. If you can keep up.” She winked and raced away, his bark of laughter a brief punch in the silence behind her.

She no longer kept an easy pace, easing into the morning. This time, she sprinted hard. The slight whir of his bike wheels warned her as he reached her a few moments later.

“You’re pretty fast, but I’d suggest you slow down.”

She turned toward him. “Out of pity for you?”

His lips twitched, and his nostrils flared, but he kept his humor reined tight. Instead, he cycled next to her, his head turned slightly toward her. “The only pity I ask for is please don’t make me carry you home when you’re too tired to continue.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.” She made sure he could read her lips.

He grinned, and the last of her tension disappeared. He accepted her teasing.

“Oh, you’ll pay,” he said.

He rode ahead, and she thought for sure he would leave her in the dust. But he turned around, a gleam in his eye, and returned to her side. When they reached a part of the trail farther on, he pulled ahead a little and skidded in a puddle, splashing her legs.

She gasped and looked at her mud-spattered shins and ignored the twinkle in his eye. “You play dirty—literally.”

Ted stopped while she paused to clean her legs off. Given the opportunity—two could play this game—she took her mud-streaked hands and wiped them on his chest. She drew in a breath and realized her mistake. Sure, she’d repaid him for splattering her with mud, but a sudden awareness of his body overrode her satisfaction. His muscles were hard, and she wondered what the rest of him felt like. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and her gaze shifted to his lips. What would it be like to kiss them?

She jerked and pulled her hand away. No. She jumped at the strangled sound from the mouth she’d considered kissing and raised her glance to his eyes. His surprise mirrored her own.

Mistake, mistake, mistake! An internal voice blared a warning. She’d intended for it to be like when she and Max, her best friend from childhood, challenged each other as kids. In fact, when he teased her, Ted reminded her of Max—something about the glint in his eye and the “need to win” coupled with concern. But she hadn’t counted on the sexual component.

She closed her eyes. She was not like her mother. She wasn’t.

“Abby?”

She stilled. Maybe he couldn’t see her. Right, and maybe unicorns are real.

“Yes?”

“Open your eyes.” She opened them.

“Let’s get breakfast.”

Buy Links

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Author Bio and Links

Jennifer started telling herself stories as a little girl when she couldn’t fall asleep at night. Pretty soon, her head was filled with these stories and the characters that populated them. Even as an adult, she thinks about the characters and stories at night before she falls asleep or walking the dog. Eventually, she started writing them down. Her favorite stories to write are those with smart, sassy, independent heroines; handsome, strong and slightly vulnerable heroes; and her stories always end with happily ever after.

In the real world, she’s the mother of two amazing daughters and wife of one of the smartest men she knows. She believes humor is the only way to get through the day and does not believe in sharing her chocolate.

Jennifer Wilck is an award-winning contemporary romance author for readers who are passionate about love, laughter, and happily ever after. Known for writing both Jewish and non-Jewish romances, her books feature damaged heroes, sassy and independent heroines, witty banter and hot chemistry. Jennifer’s ability to transport the reader into the scene, create characters the reader will fall in love with, and evoke a roller coaster of emotions, will hook you from the first page. You can find her books at all major online retailers in a variety of formats.

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I’m happy to welcome Wild Rose Press author Barbara Mountjoy who writes as Alana Lorens. Today, Alana shares her multi-act life and new release, A Rose by Any Other Name

Here’s Alana!

I’d studied English and Journalism in college, because I’d always wanted to write, since I was a kid. My first and second round of job searches hadn’t yielded much, so I didn’t have a job in the field. Life attacked in the form of a husband and two daughters, which put my employment on hold. Motherhood and wifehood was plenty to deal with, especially as my husband was in the service, so we moved a couple of times even in his first hitch.

Given a year into our Homestead, Florida posting, I saw the local paper was hiring a reporter. I snagged that position and for several years, had a blast doing all the stories and columns. I was the religion editor, the schools’ reporter, and put together the special hurricane tabs—on a first name basis with local senators and mayors and even the head of the National Hurricane Center.

One of the small cities I covered was Florida City, the last town right before the Florida Keys. The city attorney and I became close, and he recommended I go to law school. Now, this was never a career path I’d considered before that time—and my husband and I had just divorced, so I was a single mom of two preschoolers. Law school? What a crazy idea.

But it grew on me.

So I started with the entrance exam, the LSAT. I’d take it and see how I did. I did really well.

Well, I’d have to have help going to school. I didn’t have much saved up. But the grants and loans came through.

Then I’d have to have somewhere to live with my girls, and there was only limited housing on campus. But we got it. Right across the highway from the day care center.

Since it all came together, I took the jump. Those three years of school set the stage for a second act career as a family law attorney, which I practiced for 30 fulfilling years before I retired.

And now I’m back to writing full time again. 😊

For those contemplating a change, as so many are at this point in America, I’d hope they’d try to imagine where their potential career might be in five years. With tech and culture changing so quickly, they wouldn’t want to cross train into a field that doesn’t have longevity. But also, don’t stay in a career that doesn’t bring you joy simply for lack of courage. Waiting too late to change jobs might be the saddest choice of all.

Blurb

Up-and-coming mommyblogger and single mom Marisol Herrera Slade returns to her old hometown in western Pennsylvania for her 20th high school reunion in 2005, reluctant and yet compelled to see her high school sweetheart, Russell Asher, who dumped her for the homecoming queen.

Russell’s marriage to the golden girl, however, ended in a nasty divorce, and he has been systematically excluded from his sons’ lives. In his Internet wanderings, he’s found feminist blogger named Jerrika Jones, who glorifies single motherhood, essentially putting a stamp of approval on what’s happened to him. His group of single dad advocates have vowed to take this woman down.

What Russell doesn’t know, when he thinks to rekindle what he had with Marisol, is that Marisol and Jerrika are one and the same. When his group discovers the truth, will their drive for revenge derail any chance the couple have to reunite? Or will they find they have more in common than they ever expected?

Excerpt

Heather Armstrong had books out now, spawned by the popularity of her Dooce blog. The Julie and Julia movie deal started with a simple blog. That Shatner show on TV, “$#*! My Dad Says” came from a Twitter account. If she could get noticed, really noticed, the big time wasn’t so far away in this brave new Internet world.

So. Better to stir the pot, right?

She closed her eyes, summoned up the image of Jerrika at her cheekiest, and started typing. Apparently I stomped on a couple of hearts yesterday when I pointed out the joys of raising my son without having to kowtow to the demands of an irrational non-custodial father. You know what? I’m not sorry, either.

People like FreeDad91 hide in their troll costumes and take pot shots at other people instead of addressing their own issues. Sounds to me like this guy has problems from his past. Either his own father walked out on him, or he walked out on his own kids, and he’s decided the best way to handle his guilt is to dump on the mothers.

Well, honey, this is one mother who’s not going to just sit by and let you. I love my son dearly. He’s been my morning, my evening, and lots of my midnights over the years. Maybe he didn’t have a father by his side during those days and nights. But he never lacked for attention, from men or women. I made sure he had that village he needed, the one it takes to raise a child. Would it have been easier to co-parent? I expect it would have. But that option wasn’t open to me. So take your hatred and turn it back where it really belongs: on yourself.

She added a few more choice stabs, and filed the post for the day.

Book Trailer

Buy Links

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Author Bio and Links

Alana Lorens has been a published writer for more than forty years, after working as a pizza maker, a floral designer, a journalist and a family law attorney. Currently a resident of Asheville, North Carolina, the aging hippie loves her time in the smoky blue mountains. She writes romance and suspense as Alana Lorens, and sci-fi, fantasy and paranormal mystery as Lyndi Alexander. One of her novellas, THAT GIRL’S THE ONE I LOVE, is set in the city of Asheville during the old Bele Chere festival. She lives with her daughter on the autism spectrum, who is the youngest of her seven children, and she is ruled by three crotchety old cats, and six kittens of various ages.

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