Author Speed Dating: Isabelle Drake

October 11, 2016September 21, 2016 by Dana Nussio

Author Speed Dating(1)

If there’s one thing I enjoy almost as much as writing books, it’s READING books. I love discovering new authors, too. So I thought my blog would be a perfect place to introduce my authors friends to potential new readers. Only to give it a twist, we’re doing this Speed-Dating style. Check out a new author here every Wednesday, and if the spark is there, you’ll have a match.

This week’s guest: Isabelle Drake

Isabelle Drake - pic

Erotic Romance

15 Questions

1. Which Scooby Doo character best describes you in high school?

The Witch Doctor in “Decoy for a Dognapper”. I didn’t kidnap any dogs, but I did have a wild streak and wore some wild clothes.

Scooby character Isabelle Drake

2. How many rejections did you receive before you sold your first book?

About seven year’s worth. But I sold short stories in the meantime.

3. Bon Jovi or Tim McGraw?

Tim McGraw. He’s the chauffer, driving me to dinner with Jason Mamoa.

4. In which genres and sub-genres have you been published, and what does your narrow or sweeping focus say about you?

Sweet romance, Erotica, Romantic Suspense, Chick Lit, Erotic Horror, Young Adult Romance, Young Adult Thrillers, Short Stories, Young-Adult Thriller and Zombie Noir. (Is that a genre?) What does this say about me? I love stories. Writing them, reading them, living them.

5. When you give into a craving for fast food, what’s your drive-thru destination, and what would be found in your bag?

Hamburger Happy Meal from McDonald’s with milk and apple slices. Mikey D’s has the best toys.

6. Which is your preference to write: love scenes or murder scenes?

How about a love scene that ends in murder? Okay. Just kidding. Both! But I usually write love scenes at night and murder scenes during the day.

7. Jane Austen or Stephen King?

Jane Austin, for the humor.

8. What is your best advice to a writer who has just received a rejection?

Aside from the very common advice, keep writing, I’d add, have fun. Once you sell, you won’t have as much time to enjoy the process.

9. Are you more dangerous in a bookstore or a shoe store?

Shoe store. I plan my book purchases ahead of time and order from my local bookshop. Shoes are totally impulse. (Dana actually already knew my answer to that question. Ask her about the gorgeous, strappy Diane Von Furstenberg sandals I “made” her buy in San Francisco.)

10. Which heroine from one of your books is most like you?

Victoria from Cowboy for Hire. She’s fixing up a dude ranch, doing her best to make her dream come true. She’s not afraid of hard work and not afraid to make mistakes. Also, she’s determined to do “it” (whatever it is that’s she trying to do) on her own. I know, being stubborn isn’t necessarily a good trait, but it is one of mine.

11. The Bachelor or Sons of Anarchy?

Well…I like the idea of The Bachelor, but I don’t have regular TV. I only have Netflix. Yeah, I know I could probably watch The Bachelor on streaming or old episodes on Netflix, or Prime, but it’s really too late. Everyone has already talked about what happened. So, Sons of Anarchy. I’d argue that the driving character, the one person the story line centers on, is the mom. So that’s neat. She’s terrible but with good motives, so very dynamic and compelling.

12. What is the first thing you do when you finish a book?

Clean my office!

13. Name one thing you wish you could change about yourself.

Sometimes I wish I could sit still and relax “like a normal person.” But alas, I am always wanting to be doing at least one thing, if not two or three simultaneously.

14. Does your perfect vacation involve high-altitude and the word “jump” or umbrellas drinks at poolside?

Umbrellas and drinks. But I’ll be doing day trips that include hikes or bike rides. Then, while I’m at the pool, I’ll probably be writing or reading.

15. Sure, it’s like picking a favorite child, but which one or two of your titles do you secretly love just a little more?

Servant of the Undead, read it free on Wattpad!, for its raw complexity. And the setting – a Boston blizzard. Unfinished Business, from Totally Bound, for its sweet intensity. And the setting-Detroit.

***

CB 1Pink Bow final cover

Cuckold Beach 1: Pink Bow

By Isabelle Drake

Troy didn’t say anything as we passed through the towns along the water. It wasn’t the kind of quiet when he’s upset, but the kind when he’s excited or anxious or just considering something important. So I didn’t worry about him not talking. I looked out the window and tried not to think about the fact that only a tiny layer of fabric separated my bare pussy from Troy’s view.

As we went farther down the coastline, the buildings became smaller and closer together but it was obvious that everyone who lived along the coast was loaded. The yards were landscaped with flowers, beach grasses and fan palms, and lit with soft spotlights. Many of the houses were tall and narrow, with parking garages on the ground level and living spaces above. It was a neighborhood way out of our price range, that was for sure.

Another thing I was sure of—we didn’t know anyone who lived here. Or maybe it was just me who didn’t know anyone, otherwise why would Troy bring us here?

After a long while, Troy turned off the main road and started checking the map on his phone. My curiosity was making me so jittery, each minute dragged, but finally he parked. Once he cut the engine, he turned to me and put his hand on my leg. “You know how much I love you, right?”

“More than the moon loves the stars,” I said, repeating our special phrase.

“That’s right. And I always will.” He slid his hand up my leg. “I know about the porn.”

My mind went blank.

Was that what he’d been thinking about during the drive? Heavy silence settled between us until I broke it with words, even though I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to say. I explained about a girl at work telling me to check out a particular site and how the site made me curious, so I kept looking… And I kept babbling, telling most but not all of the truth, until he cut me off.

“It’s okay. I love you, Abby. And I know what you need—so I’m going to make sure you get it.”

I started to talk again, telling him how much I loved him and that he always satisfied me, but he cut me off a second time by kissing me firmly on the mouth. His hard kiss stirred up all that lust that had brewing since he’d told me to change clothes. Within a minute, I was panting and reaching for his belt. He guided my hands away with a smile and laugh.

“No, no. Tonight is going to be different. For one thing, you aren’t in charge.”

“What else?” I asked, eager to know.

He shook his head and climbed out of the car. “Follow me and find out.”

***

Read a longer excerpt of Cuckold Beach 1: Pink Bow here: Sample on Amazon . Purchase a copy here: Amazon buy link.

***

About Isabelle

Isabelle Drake got her start writing confession stories for pulp magazines like True Confessions and True Love. Since publishing those first few stories, she has written in many genres, but tends to write about everyday people in extraordinary situations.

During the day, she is a Professor of English and Writing. When away from the keyboard and classroom, she likes watching classic horror films, especially Hammer films such as the Karnstein Trilogy, and reading (of course). An avid traveler, she’ll go just about anywhere – at least once – to meet people and get story ideas.

Connect with Isabelle on social media at these locations: her website, http://isabelledrake.blogspot.com/; Facebook; Instagram; Twitter; Pinterest; Amazon; Tumblr; Goodreads; YouTube; Wattpad; and Snapchat @isadrake.

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Novice No More in the World of Pampering

September 19, 2016 by Dana Nussio

I’m not a spa day novice anymore! This might not seem so amazing to you, such a little thing in the grand scheme, but to me this is a big deal. Somehow I managed to live many decades on this earth without ever having a massage, a facial or a paraffin manicure. Until last week. But after my little outing, I can only ask myself one question: Why not?

A spa day had never been on my bucket list. It seemed too indulgent. But it felt like a bucket bonus when my three daughters gave me a gift certificate for my significant birthday in January. (I won’t tell you my age, but it rhymes with nifty, and there are days when it’s kind of not.) Yes, I said January. It took me eight months to finally get around to using my gift certificate. What can I say? I’m a busy gal. But as I sit here with relaxed muscles, smaller pores and hands so silky smooth that a baby’s bottom would be jealous, I wonder why it took me so long.

I admit it. I was a little nervous going into the spa. I was out of my element in that big, fluffy robe and those little spa socks. I even had a moment of panic as I considered the all-important decision: underwear or no underwear. Ultimately, I just picked one, but for the record, my masseuse told me that either way was fine.

I learned several things throughout my 4 1/2 hours of absolute indulgence. For one thing, Swedish Massage rocks! I could have stayed all day with my face in that little hole on that massage table, the scent of vanilla-lavender aromatherapy oils swirling around me. And who knew there could be so many lotions and creams and gels to exfoliate, hydrate and brighten my skin? It was a whole new world for someone like me. When the esthetician asked what I used to cleanse my face, I had to admit that it was “precious little.”

I’m not positive that I took a nap during my pedicure while cocooned in heated blankets, a cool sleep mask over my eyes and my hands covered in a paraffin treatment, but it was a whole lot later when the manicurist uncovered my eyes. I learned that I like having someone bring me cups of ice water with lemon every hour or so. And I learned that butter mints from a candy dish are addictive. Oh, I already knew that.

Yes, I learned a few new things that day about the tricks of beauty and relaxation, but the spa day had me thinking on a larger scale about how many of us don’t take time for ourselves. For our bodies, our minds, our spirits. We get caught up in our busy lives – work, meetings and our children’s ballgames and plays. All of those things are important. Vital. But we don’t take time to decompress from all that busyness so that we can reflect and appreciate. Those things are important, too. At the end of each of my spa-package sessions, my beauty team members would ask me to breathe in and out a few times. I need to remember that as I reenter the real world, where I have to get my own ice water and smooth on my own lotions and creams: When relaxation and renewal seem out of reach, I can still take time to breathe. Save

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Author Speed Dating: Eileen Dreyer

October 11, 2016September 14, 2016 by Dana Nussio

Author Speed Dating(1)

This week’s guest: Eileen Dreyer

Eileen Dreyer pic

Historical Romance2

15 Questions

1. Which Scooby Doo character best describes you in high school?

I’d love to say I was Velma. Truth was I was more klutzy Daphne.Although I can’t imagine waiting for somebody else to save me.

2. How many rejections did you receive before you sold your first book?

Let’s put it this way. I threatened to wallpaper my bathroom.

3. Bon Jovi or Tim McGraw?

Bon Jovi. Rock’n’roll, baby!!

4. In which genres and sub-genres have you been published, and what does your narrow or sweeping focus say about you?

As Eileen Dreyer and my evil twin Kathleen Korbel–medical suspense, romantic suspense, contemporary romance, paranormal, historical romantic adventure. It says that I’m an old trauma nurse. We bore easily.

5. When you give into a craving for fast food, what’s your drive-thru destination, and what would be found in your bag?

Steak ‘n Shake–Steakburger with everything, fries, Diet Coke (although I just had my first In-N-Out Burger, and I could be swayed).

6. Which is your preference to write: love scenes or murder scenes?

Murder scenes. You can murder people a million ways, but love scenes comes down to Slot A and Tab B. And as much as I love it, emotion is much harder to write.

7. Jane Austen or Stephen King?

Jane Austen. King scary.

8. What is your best advice to a writer who has just received a rejection?

Congratulations. You’re now a real author. Now sit down and get back to work. Often the difference between published and not is the inability to hear the word no.

9. Are you more dangerous in a bookstore or a shoe store?

Have you seen my shoes? Bookstore, obviously.

10. Which heroine from one of your books is most like you?

Probably Lady Kate Seaton from Always A Temptress (without the dysfunctional family-my dad wants people to know that). I’m kind of a snot, and I love to outrage people when I can.

11. The Bachelor or Sons of Anarchy?

Sons of Anarchy. Give me story over schlock.

12. What is the first thing you do when you finish a book?

Clean my office. It gets pretty awful in there when I’m on deadline. Keep thinking I’ll find the Lindbergh baby.

13. Name one thing you wish you could change about yourself.

I do wish I could get my ADD more under control. It would be so nice to be able to write without deadline….squirrel!!

14. Does your perfect vacation involve high-altitude and the word “jump” or umbrella drinks at poolside?

I’m probably going with “jump.” I love experiences. I can drink by any pool.

15. Sure, it’s like picking a favorite child, but which one or two of your titles do you secretly love just a little more?

One Kathleen Korbel Silhouette, A Rose for Maggie (going back up soon), and my first Eileen Dreyer historical romance, Barely a Lady .

***

Eileen book

Once a Rake

By Eileen Dreyer

There were six riders in all, four of them dressed in the motley remnants of their old regiments. Foot soldiers, by the way they rode. Not very good ones, if the company they kept was any indication. Ragged, scruffy and slouching, rifles slung over their shoulders and knives in their boots.

Sarah might have dismissed them as unimportant if they had been led by anyone but her husband’s cousin, Martin Clarke. She knew better than to think Martin wished her well. Martin wished her to the devil, just as she wished him. A thin, middling man with sparse sandy hair and bulging eyes, he had the harried, petulant air of an ineffectual law clerk. Sarah knew better. Martin was as ineffectual as the tides.

Just as Sarah knew he would, he trotted right past the great front door and toward the outbuildings where he knew he’d find her at this time of day. She stood where she was, egg pail in hand, striving for calm. Martin was appearing far too frequently lately.

“Martin,” she greeted him quietly as he pulled his horse to a skidding halt within feet of her. She felt sorry for the horse, a short-boned bay that bore the scars of Martin’s spurs.

“Sarah,” Martin said in a curiously deep voice.

He did not bow or tip his hat. Martin knew exactly what she was due and wasn’t about to let her forget it.

“Lady Clarke,” the sixth man said in his booming, jovial voice.

Sarah’s smile was genuine for the Squire, who sat at Martin’s left on an ungainly-looking sorrel mare. “Squire,” she said, then walked up to rub the horse’s nose. “You’ve brought our Maizie to call, have you? How are you, my pretty?”

Pretty was not really a word one should use for Maizie. As sturdy as a stone house, she was all of seventeen hands, with a Roman head and a shambling gait. She was also the best hunter in the district, and of a size to carry Squire’s massive girth.

Maizie’s arrival was met by a thud and a long, mournful squeal from the pig pen.

The squire laughed with his whole body. “Still in love, is he?”

Sarah grinned back. “Caught him not an hour ago trying to sneak over for a tryst.”

The squire chuckled. “It’s good someone loves my girl,” he said with an affectionate smack to the horse’s neck. Maizie nuzzled Sarah’s apron and was rewarded with an old fall apple. Willoughby sounded as if he were dying from anguish.

“To what do I owe the honor, gentlemen?” Sarah asked, wishing she had at least had the chance to tidy her hair before facing off with her cousin by marriage. She hated feeling at a disadvantage.

“Have you seen any strangers around?” Martin asked, leaning forward. “There’s been some theft and vandalism in the area. Stolen chickens and the like.”

“Oh, that,” Sarah said with a wave of her hand. “Of course. He’s taken my eggs.”

Martin almost came off his horse. “Who?”

Shading her eyes with her hand, Sarah smiled up at him. “Who? Don’t you mean what? Unless you name your foxes.”

That obviously hadn’t been the answer he was looking for. “Fox? Bah! I’m talking about a man. Probably one of those damned thievin’ soldiers preying on good people.”

Did he truly not notice how his own men scowled at him? Men who undoubtedly had been wandering the roads themselves? Well, Sarah thought, if she’d had any intention of acknowledging her surprise visitor, Martin’s words disabused her of the notion. She wouldn’t trust Napoleon himself to her cousin’s care.

“Not unless your soldier has four feet and had a long bushy tail,” she said, genially. “But I don’t think he would meet the height requirements for the army.”

The squire, still patting his Maizie, let out a great guffaw. “We’ll get your fox for you, Lady Clarke,” he promised. “Not great hunt country here. But we do. We do.”

“Kind of you, squire. I’m sure the girls will be grateful. You know how fatched Mary and Martha can get.”

“Martha….” Martin was getting redder by the minute. “Why haven’t I heard about this? You boarding people here? What would Boswell say?”

Sarah tilted her head. She knew better, but she couldn’t help gigging Martin. He was just so disagreeable. “I imagine he’d say that he was glad for the eggs every morning for breakfast, Martin.”

For a second she thought Martin might have a seizure, right there on his gelding. “You’re not going to get away with abusing your privilege much longer, missy,” he snapped. “This land is….”

“Boswell’s,” she said flatly. “Not yours until we know he won’t come back.”
“Bah!” Martin huffed. “It’s been almost fourth months, girl. If he was coming back, he’d be here.”

Sarah stood very still, praying that none of them caught the sudden tension in her shoulders. Instinctively her gaze wandered over to what they had taken to calling Boswell’s Arbor, a little sitting area by the cliff with a lovely view of the ocean. Boswell had loved sitting there. His roses, though, were dying.

“He will be back, Martin,” she said, throwing as much conviction as she could into her voice. “You’ll see.Men are returning all the time from Belgium. The battle was so terrible it will be months yet before we learn the final toll from Waterloo.”

“You’re only putting off the inevitable, girl. And wasting my time.”

It was the Squire who brought their attention back with a sharp ‘harrumph’.

For the first time, Sarah blushed. “My apologies, Squire,” she said. “You didn’t come here to be annoyed by our petty grievances. As for your question, Cousin Martin, no. I have seen no one here.”

“Big man,” Squire said. “Red hair.”

She was already shaking her head. After all, she hadn’t seen anything but a shadow.

“I’m sure you won’t mind if we search the property,” Martin challenged.

He was already dismounting his horse. Pretending that the action didn’t set her heart stumbling all over again, Sarah smiled. “Of course not. Start with the house. I’m sure the dowager will be just as delighted to see you as the last time you surprised her.”

Martin was already on the ground and heading toward the stables. With Sarah’s words, he stopped cold. Sarah refused to smile. She didn’t need to incite him further. It was a good thing, though, that he couldn’t hear her heart or sense how sick she suddenly felt at the thought of him searching the property.

“Just the outbuildings,” he amended, motioning to the men, who followed suit.

Sarah was a heartbeat shy of protesting when she heard it. Willoughby. The thudding turned into a great crash and the heartfelt squeals turned into a near-scream of triumph. She turned just in time to jump free as the pig came galloping across the yard, six hundred pounds of unrestrained passion headed straight for Squire’s horse.

Unfortunately, Martin was standing between Willoughby and his own true love. And Sarah sincerely doubted that the pig could see the man in his headlong dash to bliss.

Sarah called out a warning. Martin stood frozen on the spot, as if staring down the spectre of death. Howling with laughter, the Squire swung Maizie about.

It was all over in a moment. Squire leapt from Maizie and gave her a good crack on the rump. With a flirtatious toss of the head and a whinny, the mare took off down the lane, Willoubhby in hot pursuit.

But not before the boar had run right over Martin, leaving him flat in the mud with hoofprints marching straight up his best robin’s egg superfine and white linen. Sarah tried so hard not to laugh. The other men weren’t so restrained, slapping legs and laughing at the man who’d brought them as they charged down the lane after the pig.

Sarah knew that she was a Christian, because she bent to help Boswell’s unpleasant relation off the ground. “Are you all right, cousin?”

Bent over and clutching his ribs, Martin yanked his arm out of her grasp. “You’ll pay for this, you little…”

The Squire frowned. “Language, sir. Ladies.”

Martin waved him off as well. “This is no lady. You know it perfectly well. Why my cousin demeaned himself to marry her…”

“Is no bread and butter of ours,” the Squire snapped, casting a contemplative eye in the direction Willoughby had taken, as if considering once again setting him on Martin. “Apologize to the lady, Clarke, or I’ll know why. And then let us leave her to her work. We certainly haven’t made her day any easier.”

Martin huffed, but he complied. He was still brushing off his once-pristine attire when the soldiers, bantering like children on a picnic, returned brandishing Willoughby’s lead, the pig following disconsolately behind. With a smile for the ragged soldier who’d caught her pig, Sarah held her hand out for the rope.

“Thank you, Mr…”

The man, lean and lined from sun and hardship, ducked his head. “Wilms, ma’am. Pleasure. Put up a good fight, ‘e did.”

She chuckled. “I know all too well, Mr. Wilms.” Turning, she held her hand out. “Thank you, sir. Squire. I’m so sorry you had to send Maizie off.”

The squire grinned at her, showing his gap teeth and twinkling blue eyes. “Aw, she’ll be at the bottom of the lane, right enough. She knows to get out of yon pig’s way.”

Tipping his low-brimmed hat to Sarah, he turned to help Martin to his horse.Sarah waved farewell and tugged a despondent Willoughby back to his pen. She was just pulling the third knot tight when she caught sight of that shadow again, this time on her side of the coop. Casting a quick glance to where the Squire had just mounted behind the pig-catching soldier, she bent over Willoughby.

“I wouldn’t show myself yet if I were you,” she murmured, hoping the shadow heard her. “And if it was you let Willoughby go a moment ago, I thank you.”

“A search would have been…problematic,” she heard, and a fresh chill chased down her spine.

There was a burr to his voice. A Scot, here on the South Dorset coast. Now, how frequently could she say she’d seen that?

“You didn’t by any chance recently shoot at someone, did you?”

As if he would tell the truth, if he were indeed the assassin.

“Not who you think. No.”

Why she instinctively believed him, she had no idea. She should turn around this minute and call for help. Every instinct of decency said so. But Martin was the local magistrate, and Sarah knew how he treated prisoners. Even innocent ones. Squeezing her eyes shut, Sarah listened to the jangle of the troop turning to leave.

“Give you good day, Lady Clarke,” the Squire said, and waved the parade off down the drive.

Martin didn’t follow right away. “This isn’t over, missy,” he warned, pitching his voice low enough to not be overheard. “This land belongs to me now, and you know it.”

Sarah sighed, her mind made up. She simply could not accommodate Martin in this or anything. Straightening, she squarely faced the dyspeptic man. “This land is Boswell’s,” she said baldly. “Until he comes back, I am here to make sure it is handed back into his hands in good heart. Good day, Martin.”

And she deliberately turned back to her pig.

Martin opened his mouth to argue, and then saw the Squire and other men waiting for him. He settled for a final, “Bah!” and drove his heels into his poor horse.

Sarah stood where she was until she could no longer hear them. Then, with a growing feeling of inevitability, she once more climbed past the broken pigpen and approached the shadow at the back of the coop. And there he was, a very large red-headed man slumped against the stone wall. He was even more ragged than the men who had ridden with Martin, his clothing tattered and filthy, his hair a rat’s nest, his beard bristling and even darker red than his hair. His eyes were bright, though, and his cheeks flushed. He held his hand to his side, and he was listing badly.

Sarah crouched down next to him to get a better look, and saw that his shirt was stained brown with old blood. His hands, clutched over his belly, were stained with new blood, which meant that those bright eyes were from more than intelligence. Even so, Sarah couldn’t remember ever seeing a more compelling, powerful man in her life.

“Hello,” she greeted him, her own hands clenched, as if that alone would protect her from him. “I assume I am speaking to the Scotsman for whom everyone is looking.”

His grin was crooked and under any other circumstance, would have been endearing. “Och, lassie, nothin’ gets past ye.”

“I thought you were dead.”

He frowned. “Wait a few minutes,” he managed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

And then, as gracefully as a sailing vessel slipping under the waves, he sank all the way to his side and lost consciousness.

Once a Rake may be purchased through these online retailers: Amazon, B & N.

***

About Eileen

New York Times Bestselling, award-winning author Eileen Dreyer has published 40 novels and 10 short stories under her name and that of her evil twin, Kathleen Korbel in contemporary romance, paranormal romance, historical romance, romantic suspense, mystery and medical forensic suspense. A proud member of RWA’s Hall of FAME, she also has numerous awards from RT BookLovers and an Anthony nomination for mystery. She is now focusing on what she calls historic romantic adventure in her DRAKE’S RAKES series. A native of St. Louis, she still lives there with her family. She has animals but refuses to subject them to the limelight.

Connect with Eileen through social media at these locations:

Website: http://eileendreyer.com, Facebook , Twitter.

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Revisions: Time to Make the Story Better

September 12, 2016 by Dana Nussio

I used to hate doing revisions. I want to put that out there as I write merrily along today, making changes to my newest story, a detailed revision letter guiding me as I work. How could someone be so cruel as to pick apart my perfect prose or derogate my dialogue? Didn’t my editor know it wasn’t nice to pick on my manuscript, my baby, when her eyes were already the perfect shade of green, her smile sweet and toothless.

But I’ve been doing this for a while now. It’s been 15 years since I first got “the call” from a publisher. During this time, I have watched – and whined to my critique group – as I was asked to give my babies haircuts and manicures and, when necessary, even a facelift. And you know what I begrudgingly had to admit? The stories got better. Always.

To understand what a significant admission this is for me, you have to hear the story of one of my first major revision projects. Let’s just call it what it really was…an overhaul. When I received the call from one of my earliest editors (waving at Diane, if you happen to be reading), and she told me she wanted to purchase my second inspirational romance, An Honest Life, I was thrilled. An Honest Life cover Until I heard the caveat: “Oh, but Rusty can’t die.” Unfortunately for me, Rusty’s death set up the next book, and his accident took place on about Page 45. To make the necessary corrections, I had to rewrite almost the whole book. Yes, I whined over those revisions, but even then, the story was better for it, and it remains one of my favorite books.

So now I am working on revisions for my new book, Falling for the Cop, my second Harlequin Superromance, which will be released in March 2017. Since I’ve been away from the manuscript for a while, it’s easier to see the places where I missed opportunities to show character growth or to deepen the emotional connection between the hero and heroine. I also so appreciate comments from my editor, Karen Reid, and her help in making the book better. It’s great having someone as invested in my stories as I am and someone who can see the big picture in my story when I’m sometimes too close to see it. Where I resented revisions in the beginning, I love the challenge of making the book better, of pushing my characters just a little harder.

Sure, there are still moments when I want to become protective of my baby, but then I remind myself that my editor and I want the same thing: Dana and Karen to tell the best story we can. And when the work gets tough and I need a laugh, I take a look at this photo and remind myself that my editor and I make a great team, and we’ve got this.

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Author Speed Dating: Danica Favorite

October 11, 2016September 7, 2016 by Dana Nussio

Author Speed Dating(1)

This week’s guest: Danica Favorite

Danica_pic

InspyHistorical2

15 Questions

1. Which Scooby Doo character best describes you in high school?

Velma.

2. How many rejections did you receive before you sold your first book?

Too many to count.

3. Bon Jovi or Tim McGraw?

I’d say Bon Jovi, but I’m afraid you might kick my butt. 😉

4. In which genres and sub-genres have you been published, and what does your narrow or sweeping focus say about you?

Historical, Contemporary, Non Fiction. It says I have a lot of stuff in my brain to get out!

5. When you give into a craving for fast food, what’s your drive-thru destination, and what would be found in your bag?

For fries, it’s McDonald’s. Burgers used to be Wendy’s until they changed buns, and now they’re gross, so now there’s nothing burger-wise I can’t live without. And nothing beats a cherry limeade or cherry Dr. Pepper from Sonic.

6. Which is your preference to write: love scenes or murder scenes?

Murder.

7. Jane Austen or Stephen King?

Austen.

8. What is your best advice to a writer who has just received a rejection?

Keep at it. But first, have a cupcake and some champagne. Most people don’t even have the guts to submit.

9. Are you more dangerous in a bookstore or a shoe store?

Bookstore.

10. Which heroine from one of your books is most like you?

Mary from The Lawman’s Redemption.

11. The Bachelor or Sons of Anarchy?

Please kill me. Seriously. No. Just No.

12. What is the first thing you do when you finish a book?

Sleep.

13. Name one thing you wish you could change about yourself.

The size of my bank account (bigger, of course!).

14. Is your perfect vacation involve high-altitude and the word “jump” or umbrella drinks at poolside?

Umbrella drinks at poolside.

15. Sure, it’s like picking a favorite child, but which one or two of your titles do you secretly love just a little more?

For the Sake of the Children (releases in January 2017). It gutted me to write.

***

The Nanny’s Little Matchmakers

By Danica Favorite

A Wife for Their Papa

Polly MacDonald intends to tame Mitch Taylor’s five mischievous children, even though every other nanny has fled. She needs this job—and Mitch’s brood sorely needs affection. Perhaps their widowed papa does, too. But when the children begin scheming to make her their new mother, Polly must resist. She’s seen too many bad marriages to want one of her own.

Mitch has come to Leadville, Colorado, to escape a scandal, not find a wife. After the disaster of his first marriage, he’s sure he isn’t husband material. Though Polly’s tender care is working wonders with his children, Mitch knows he should keep his feelings to himself. But can two wary hearts deny the dearest wish of five eager matchmakers?

The Nanny’s Little Matchmakers may be purchased at many retail locations as well as through these online retailers: Amazon, B & N, Harlequin.

*******

About Danica

A self-professed crazy chicken lady, Danica Favorite loves the adventure of living a creative life. She and her family recently moved in to their dream home in the mountains above Denver, Colorado. Danica loves to explore the depths of human nature and follow people on the journey to happily ever after. Though the journey is often bumpy, those bumps are what refine imperfect characters as they live the life God created them for. Oops, that just spoiled the ending of all of Danica’s stories. Then again, getting there is all the fun.

You can connect with Danica at the following places:

Website: http://www.danicafavorite.com, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook.

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Here’s to Day Jobs!

September 5, 2016 by Dana Nussio

“I quit my day job!” Over the years, I’ve heard that comment a few times from authors. Very few. And those words would be greeted with applause and fawning. Quitting the day job, after all, is in writer speak or actor speak or any creative-entrepreneur-in-competitive-field speak proof that you have overcome great odds and have made it to the show. The big league. (Had to sneak some pro baseball jargon into the mix.) It’s fulfillment of the dream that one day you will be able to fully support your family with just your (insert tough creative field here) career. That you’ll finally be able to buy that mansion or private jet. Or that great house on the river where your husband will catch-and-release fish every morning and you’ll sip coffee on the porch swing while you write. Oh, that’s just my dream. For most of us in creative fields, though, little things like mortgages, college tuition, car payments and the pipe dream of retiring without having to live in that car make the day job a necessity.

But I would like to make the case today that day jobs are meant to be celebrated. They are second jobs that add to our lives and make careers-of-the-heart possible. Sometimes a day job can even become a second career that nestles itself in your heart as well.

Author Isabelle Drake, who just happens to be here with me as I write, agrees. “A day job gives you a chance to be out Day Jobs in the world and not just inside your head,” she said. Drake, who works a college professor of English and writing in her other life, added that for many creative types, a day job provides an opportunity to contribute to society in another way. Some examples include education or nursing.

After twenty years of raising my family, much of that time also working from home as a freelance journalist and fiction author, I returned to the regular workforce part-time two years ago. Last year, I made the plunge into full-time work at an elementary school as a paraprofessional, assisting in a program for autistic students.

And I love it! This has been some of the hardest and most rewarding work I have ever done. It’s great watching these great kids develop, providing support for them when they need it and celebrating each of their milestones. These students teach me every day about courage, determination and the heart’s ever-expanding capacity to love.

But does my day job benefit me as a writer? You know, besides the regular paycheck. Absolutely! Just because I’m not at the keyboard all day doesn’t mean I’m not writing. New ideas are percolating in my head all day long, some good enough to jot down during my lunch hour. Having this job pulls me out of the house and away from coffee shops where I usually write, exposing me to a whole new group of compassionate professionals, who go to work every day hoping to make a difference in children’s lives. These educators and other support personnel have taught me so many things that I not only put to use right away with students but some that I might also use in a story someday. Melissa Erickson, a physical therapist friend from work, even met me for coffee after school to help build the injured hero for my new book, FALLING FOR THE COP, a March 2017 release from Harlequin Superromance.

The day job has also helped me to become more organized. Believe it or not, I’m not the most organized person in the world. (I know my mom is chuckling as she reads this.) When I was working from home, I was surprised by how little writing I actually accomplished each day. I know there were household chores to do, but I suspect there was also some goofing off going on there. Since my time is more limited now, I had to reevaluate how I was spending it. I also had to choose my priorities. Did I still have stories inside me? Were my stories important enough to me that I would make sacrifices to continue the career I love? Because the answer to both questions is a Big Yes, I built a schedule that my husband and I could live with. Only Google Calendar and I really know just how busy I am. I made other changes like writing in the early morning instead of at night and turning off the TV sometimes. (Still not enough, but I’m working on it.)

Melissa and me — End-of-the-summer writing time at the coffee shop with fellow romance author, Isabelle Drake.

Day jobs have different benefits, and, besides the opportunity to have more funny school photos, mine has one of the best: summers off. That has allowed me to focus on my writing for several weeks and to re-fill my educator well so I will be ready to give the kids my best when school starts. Back-to-school for me is the day after Labor Day, (tomorrow once this note hits the blogosphere), so I met one last time with writer pal, Isabelle, who has already started her classes. We’ll both be writing all year when we’re not in our classrooms.

Yes, day jobs are worth celebrating. I won’t be quitting mine for years to come and not just because it takes the edge off for our family with two kids in college. I love the work at school as well as the person I can be inside the classroom. So at author events, I might be “author Dana Nussio,” but in halls at school, just call me “Mrs. N.”

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Author Speed Dating: Joanne Rock

October 11, 2016August 31, 2016 by Dana Nussio

Author Speed Dating(1)

This week’s guest: Joanne Rock

15 Questions

1. Which Disney princess (or prince) do you wish you were more like? And which one are you really most like?

Snow White. Jasmine.

2. Monopoly or Battleship?

Battleship.

3. How many books have you published, and how many are still tucked in a drawer somewhere?

Published: 83. Tucked in a drawer: None complete, but about 5 partials.

4. If you had no audience, and no regrets would follow, what midnight snack(s) would you be gorging on tonight?

Crème brulee. Bread pudding. Some cracked pepper kettle chips. Nachos and chicken wing dip.

5. Blahniks or Nikes?

Flats only for this arthritis sufferer, so Nikes.

6. Give the title of the first manuscript (published or unpublished) you ever wrote.

Moonrise.

7. If you were marooned on a deserted island with plenty of food and water but with only one book to read and re-read, which title would you hope for?

Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Mists of Avalon

8. In which genres and sub-genres have you been published?

Contemporary Romance, Medieval Historical Romance and Young Adult fiction.

9. Pizza and beer or steak and Chianti?

All of the above.

10. How old were you when you had the first inkling you might be a writer, and what gave you that hint?

Age 10. I was obsessed with textbooks, reading and writing.

11. In 10 words or less, give your best writing advice to aspiring authors.

Trust your gut. Don’t give up.

12. TED Talks or Cupcake Wars?

TED.

13. Which one of your own fictional heroes would you have taken home if you could?

Billionaire athlete Jean Pierre Reynaud from Secret Baby Scandal. Sweet, wealthy, and an athlete… Swoony.

14. What is your most ridiculous fear?

Spinach in my teeth.

15. If someone has never read one of your books, which title would you recommend she read first?

Nights Under the Tennessee Stars. I love that one!

***

Whispers Under a Southern Sky

By Joanne Rock

Returning from the grocery store to purchase supplies, Amy took the Partridge Hill Road slowly, climbing the sharp incline with a respectful speed. She was wary of the potholes and cavernous cracks in tarmac that looked like the town had been ignoring it for decades.

Her car was on its last leg, an eBay deal she’d snagged for next to nothing after her previous vehicle had died. A gray sedan built for efficiency and not comfort, the car was held together with duct tape, furnace cement, a few well-placed zip ties and a whole lot of You Tube video knowledge on DIY mechanics. She was proud she’d kept the thing running this long, but she wasn’t about to risk her luck on one of those black holes.

Even if that meant she couldn’t zip past the house where Sam Reyes was rumored to live.

She kept her eyes on the road so as not to risk any accidental sightings. Not that she wasn’t curious, of course. Her long-ago boyfriend had been hot as a teenager when other boys were still gangly and awkward. Her imagination could fill in the blanks quite nicely to envision him as a man full grown. She didn’t need that visual confirmed. Especially not after they’d had the world’s most awkward non-breakup.

He had just up and disappeared. Vanished into thin air with Gabriella Chase, a particularly adorable majorette who probably would have been homecoming queen. If she hadn’t left school to run away with Sam. His mysterious email—weeks later–claiming that he’d left to “help a friend” hadn’t exactly eased her anger.

Thump!

The car dipped down into a rut she hadn’t seen. The passenger side tire scraped something sharp, a grating noise against the wheel. She hit the gas on instinct since her vehicle was prone to stalling.

And yet, of course, her sedan died right there.

“Unacceptable.” She closed her eyes. Willed the vehicle to life. “If not for me, you would be in a scrap heap.”

Sadly, it wasn’t her first dialogue with the vehicle. But for the first time, the cursed thing seemed to listen because it fired up again with a cough and a splutter.

“Yes!” She hit the gas hard, desperate to get out of sight from the last house on Partridge Hill Road.

She wasn’t a woman who enjoyed being rescued and, thankfully, her closest neighbor would be saved from that role today. Racing up the rest of the hill, she dodged the remaining pits and crevices, flush with victory and the knowledge she had enough supplies to last her for the next two weeks. She wouldn’t need to worry about seeing anyone until she felt well settled in and—

Oh. Crap.

A large man stood on the porch of the hunting cabin.

Dressed in black and wearing dark sunglasses, the figure stood with his back to her, his large shoulders bent over something he seemed to be examining on the front porch swing. A hit man deciding which weapon to use? Her brain churned out a whole series of crazy possibilities when he did not turn toward her as she slowed the car.

Fear crawled up her throat since no one should be here. Her sisters had promised her—promised—that they would let her decide when she wanted to see the family. No one else knew she was here. And the guy on the porch sure didn’t look like he was selling something. Or trying to convert her.

Why hadn’t the man noticed her yet? She debated backing down the road again. She could just slide it into neutral and she’d be at the bottom of Partridge Hill in moments. Then suddenly, even with her heart beating hard and the car’s heater blowing on high, she realized she could hear the wail of an infant.

Even as she told herself that made no sense, the man on the porch straightened from whatever he’d been studying on the wooden swing. He held a baby in his arms.

But that wasn’t nearly the most shocking thing about her uninvited guest.

Because the man in front of her was Samuel Reyes….

A September 2016 release from Harlequin Superromance, WHISPERS UNDER A SOUTHERN SKY is available from these retailers: Amazon , B&N, Harlequin.

*******

About Joanne

Four-time RITA nominee Joanne Rock has never met a romance sub-genre she didn’t like. The author of over seventy books enjoys writing a wide range of stories, most recently focusing on sexy contemporaries and small town family sagas. An optimist by nature and perpetual seeker of silver linings, Joanne finds romance fits her life outlook perfectly–love is worth fighting for. A frequent speaker at regional and national writing conferences, she enjoys giving back to the writing community that nurtured and inspired her early career. She has a Masters degree in Literature from the University of Louisville but credits her fiction writing skills to intensive study with fellow author and friend, Catherine Mann. When she’s not writing, Joanne enjoys travel, especially to see her favorite sports teams play with her former sports editor husband and three athletic-minded sons.

Website, Facebook, Twitter

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Harlequin Toronto: An Adventure with My Village

August 29, 2016 by Dana Nussio

People often say that writing is a solitary venture, and I can agree with that. There are times when I’ve been staring at my laptop, the white screen mocking me in its sheer lack of words, that I have felt utterly alone. On the other hand, I have found my traditional publishing career to be anything but lonely. Truly, it takes village to publish great books.

Having worked with so many talented professionals with Harlequin Enterprises since I sold my first manuscript in 2001 – people who massaged and polished my stories until they were the best they could be – I thought I had a good understanding of how many people were a part of my village.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA — Lola Speranza, Director of Publishing Services

During my visit and tour of the Harlequin headquarters in Toronto last week, I learned just how wrong I was.

Okay, I admit that the Harlequin staff might have dazzled me with their queen-for-a-day treatment, the champagne toast and that general Canadian niceness. Still, I couldn’t help being impressed by the sheer number of behind-the-scene individuals involved and the amazing amount of detailed work required in editing, laying out, printing, marketing and distributing a book with my name on the cover.

Even after the lovely tour with Lola Speranza, Director of Publishing Services, I cannot begin to tell you all of the steps required as a manuscript moves from contract to publication, but I will offer just a taste here as a way of honoring the many individuals who work in these offices every day with the goal of producing great books.

I had the chance to meet copy editors, proofreaders, those responsible for typesetting print novels, another group responsible for converting those files for e-books, some who made the brochures for book club sales and those who planned the cover and back-cover content or made sure it was perfectly aligned, that its colors were true and its text was clear. Among those was Shane Dobson, Manager of Production Art, who is the go-to guy for ensuring that a cover is perfect. (Yes, that’s my cover on his desk and on his monitor. )

Then there were those who market the books once they are printed and those who ensure that the books get into the hands of happy romance readers. Just one of my brief visits was with Farah Mullick, Marketing Director, but I have to admit that I already knew her. (We’ve bonded on the dance floor at a couple of Harlequin Parties…oh, and at some work stuff, too.) Throughout the tour, I was amazed to see all of the varied work these individuals do to produce books for readers and make sure readers know where to find them.

After the tour, I had the chance to sit down with my editor, Karen Reid, and Victoria Curran, senior editor of the Harlequin Superromance and Heartwarming lines, so we could discuss my next project. (Crossing fingers here.) That was especially cool as my daughter, Alexa, had come along for the tour and had the chance to join us for the meeting.

My gracious hosts topped off my visit with lunch with the whole Superromance and Heartwarming editorial staff. What a great day!

As much as I enjoyed the chance to be treated like a celebrity for a day, I really appreciate the new perspective I gained from this visit to the Harlequin offices. It was great to see so many people, who are completely invested in transforming wonderful relationship stories into high-quality books for readers to enjoy. Each job is crucial to the mission. Every details matters. It really does take a village to publish great books. I couldn’t be prouder to be a part of my village.

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Author Speed Dating: Lora Lee

October 11, 2016August 24, 2016 by Dana Nussio

Author Speed Dating(1)

If there’s one thing I enjoy almost as much as writing books, it’s READING books. I love discovering new authors, too. So as I planned my new blog, I decided this could be a perfect place to introduce my writer friends to new readers and introduce my reader friends to some of their new favorite authors. Only we’re going to do this Speed-Dating style. Just 15 getting-to-you questions, a little bit about the author and an excerpt from one of her stories. Check them out right here each Wednesday, and if the spark is there, you’ll have a match…or two…or three.

Let’s get ready to Author Speed Date. The clock is ticking. Ready. Set. Go!

This Week’s Guest: Lora Lee

Cozy Mysteries

15 Questions

Which Disney princess (or prince) do you wish you were more like?

Cinderella, because I’ve never had glass slippers. Mine were cowboy boots.

And which one are you really most like?

Was the old woman who lived in a shoe a princess? If not, she should have been because – you know . . . kids!

Monopoly or Battleship?

Monopoly – because . . . money, money, money!

How many books have you published, and how many are still tucked in a drawer somewhere?

Four published and more than one unfinished hiding in boxes somewhere.

If you had no audience, and no regrets would follow, what midnight snack(s) would you be gorging on tonight?

Mama’s pecan pie — because . . . Texas!

Manolo Blahniks or Nikes?

Nikes! I’d be a train wreck in heels.

Give the title of the first manuscript (published or unpublished) you ever wrote.

Conquered Hearts – unpublished rough and tumble western historical. Texas Longhorns and cattle drive. Yeehaw!

If you were marooned on a deserted island with plenty of food and water but with only one book to read and re-read, which title would you hope for?

My hardcover edition with three Nora Roberts’ “Born In” books because — you know . . .Ireland!

In which genres and subgenres have you been published?

Contemporary Romance and Cozy Mysteries.

Pizza and beer or steak and Chianti?

Smoked brisket and beer.

How old were you when you had the first inkling you might be a writer, and what gave you that hint?

Fourth grade. I loved reading fairy tales and playing make-believe.

In 10 words or less, give your best writing advice to aspiring authors.

Don’t procrastinate. Write every day even if it’s only a few lines.

TED Talks or Cupcake Wars?

Neither one. How about Fixer-Upper?

Which one of your own fictional heroes would you have taken home if you could?

Hands down – Buddy Lee from ALL THAT MATTERS.

What is your most ridiculous fear?

Being sprayed by a skunk!

If someone has never read one of your books, which title would you recommend she read first?

For Contemporary Romance readers: ALL THAT MATTERS, an emotional Cinderella-in-reverse love story, deep in the heart of Texas. Cozy Mystery readers: BRINGING IN THE THIEVES for a taste of Texas twang and gospel music when a preacher’s daughter and an ex-con uncover some mighty dirty laundry among Ruby Springs’ holier-than-thou citizens.

***

Bringing in the Thieves

By Lora Lee

I knew the minute I read the church bulletin that I was fixin’ to be Southern-fried and plated up in front of God, the Faith Community Church deacons, and eventually the entire community of Ruby Springs, Texas, sure as my name’s Frankie Lou Birmingham McMasters.

My well-meaning landlady, Nettie Bloom, had decided to announce my proposed church project without asking me if I wanted her to. I had just scheduled a meeting with the deacons about it, not given them any details about the idea. I hadn’t spoken it aloud to anyone but Miss Nettie. But now there it was in print, along with Miss Nettie’s usual assortment of misplaced phrases and Mrs. Malaprop word choices. Miss Nettie had been editing the church’s newsletter, News From The Pews, for a good many years, but I’d noticed her memory getting a little tangled lately.

NEWS FROM THE PEWS
Faith Community Church
100 Blessings St.
Ruby Springs, Texas

As we wait for the selection of a full-time pastor, we welcome back interim minister, Reverend Matthew Whitlaw to the pulpit next Sunday at Faith Community. His morning sermon will be “Jesus Walks on Water” followed by “Searching for Jesus” in the evening.

For those of you who have children and don’t know it, we have a nursery downstairs.

Members of the Weight Watchers group will meet Monday at 5:30 for weekly weigh-in. Please use large double door at the side entrance to the annex. The Low Self-Esteem Support Group will be using the back door.

Prior to prayer meeting Wednesday evening, a bean supper will be held in the church hall. Special music will follow.

Until further notice, please give massages to secretary, Lovey Muchmore. She will then give massages to the newsletter editor who will share the details in the newsletter.

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT: A NEW CHOIR FOR TEEN SINNERS IS BEING FORMED AND WILL COMPETE IN THE SLUMBER FUN AT THE CITY PARK NEXT MONTH. For more information on sinning contact Frankie Lou McMasters at Doc Adderly’s Animal Clinic.

Prayerfully submitted,

N. Bloom, Newsletter Editor

Truth be know, there were certain people who weren’t exactly thrilled by my return to the town where my daddy, Reverend Frank Birmingham, occupied the pulpit at Faith Community Church before his retirement to Florida. I’d been gone from Ruby Springs eleven years, but it seems those certain people have the combined memory of a herd of elephants. One in particular: Poppy Rose0 deHaven Fremont, Faith Community’s choir director.

I grabbed my tote, made a quick call next door to Miss Nettie’s house where my eleven-year-old, Betsy, was staying for dinner, then headed for the church. It was a hot spring night and bound to get hotter.

Help me, Lord, Miss Nettie and that newsletter are gonna get me killed one way or another.

***

BRINGING IN THE THIEVES, Book #1 of the Joyful Noise Mysteries series, is published by Bell Bridge Books and available now in digital and print versions. Book #2 in the series is a work in progress – tentative title SWING LOW, SWEET LARIAT.

Buy Links: Amazon Kindle, Amazon Paperback, Barnes & Noble, Kobo Books

***

About Lora Lee

Born in a small town in the Texas Hill Country, Lora Lee discovered the magic of reading at an early age and began inventing stories before she could write down the words. Her preacher daddy, as well as her mama, encouraged her love of books by making certain she always had a library card each time they moved to a new town. She currently resides in West Michigan. Known to her supportive critique group as LL or Tex, author Lora Lee is Mom to her four children and Grandma to her nine grandchildren and six great-grandchildren. She enjoys exuberant family gatherings when all twenty-plus members join her for good food and noisy ball games in the back yard.

Keep in tune with the Joyful Noise at: Website, Twitter, Facebook, Google+, Goodreads.

Lora Lee also writes as Loralee Lillibridge. Learn more about her contemporary romances through her blog and on her Loralee Lillibridge website.

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Dad’s Album: A Daughter’s Life in Pictures

August 22, 2016August 22, 2016 by Dana Nussio

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I can’t believe it’s been nearly four months already. Four months since my sister and I experienced one of those life events that we all know is coming, but we dread it all the same. We lost our father. After choosing to suspend cancer treatment a few months before, Dad passed away on April 30. A flurry of events in blurry lines and awkward words followed, and I was too busy just getting through the days to slow down and focus on the memories. That’s my excuse for not returning before now to those boxes of old photos I brought home after the funeral. That, and I was just too sad.

But this week when I needed a picture for a project, I started digging through the piles of photos and newspaper clippings that celebrated several generations of my family’s history. And under one of the piles, I found it: the album my dad made for me. It has my senior photo on the front cover and the name “Dana” in my dad’s handwriting on the spine. Dad had two of these albums in his book collection – one with my sister’s name and one with mine. This was one of our father’s final gifts to us – a record of our lives through his eyes.

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I know it shouldn’t surprise me that my parent would have kept an album with photos of me, but it did. This was my dad. The father who amicably divorced my mom when I was just three years old. The same man who had a few more marriages and divorces and was a beloved stepfather to several other kids along the way. There were times when I wasn’t sure where I fit into all of that. What I didn’t know back then was that all through those transitions and chaos, Dad had taken the time to quietly tuck away pieces that would mean the world to his daughters when he was gone. Things that would say he loved us and was proud of us.

My book is amazing. It has my birth announcement; my whole collection of school photos, even the awkward years; and pictures from my high school dances, our wedding, baby shower and births of our daughters. Dad collected flyers from things like my National Honor Society induction and college graduation, newspaper clippings from academic stuff and poems I wrote for the church bulletin. There’s even a note in loopy teenage handwriting, where I claimed to be out with a certain longtime boyfriend, but “honestly” doing homework. All of the pieces are carefully mounted with plastic corners and stored behind protective sleeves.

It’s strange how I never knew that Dad was a keeper of memories, at least not until a year before his passing, when I was helping him downsize for a move to an assisted-living facility. We laughed together as we went through his other albums and photo boxes that contained items ranging from his youth basketball team photos and childhood snapshots back in Arkansas to the invitation for his wedding to my mom. My sister and I have divided all of those keepsakes now. We are now the keepers of memories. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

As I flip through my own album, I am sad to see how few of these photos Dad appeared in himself. Sure, he probably was behind the camera in most, and there are a few – with me at our wedding and with our newborn daughter. But every time I look at this album, I will think of my father and the time and care he took in recording my life in pictures.

I miss you, Dad! Rest in peace!

James Corbit 1937-2016

DadDana1

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