In the midst of my summer marathon of writing Christmas romances, I decided to write a book set in an era I know next to nothing about.
I’m up to my eyeballs in research, wishing I’d paid more attention in my history classes when we got to this particular period. Unfortunately, my interest was always geared more toward the old West, Victorian and Edwardian days.
Slowly but surely the book is coming along. Lest you think I’ll never get around to releasing anything new, I will have more books coming this fall. I promise!
In the meantime, I thought I’d give you a little teaser from this current work in progress (and bear in mind it has not had a speck of editing yet!):
The first fingers of dawn stretched across the silvery sky as she stepped from the trees and bit back a sob at the sight of her grandparents’ produce stand. As long as she could remember, her family had sold produce from the red-painted structure filled with shelves and bins to hold every type of vegetable and fruit the fertile soil would grow.
A hundred yards behind the produce stand, a white picket fence surrounded the cheery yellow bungalow home her grandparents had built years ago. With a wide porch and a plethora of flowers surrounding all four sides, the house appeared welcoming.
Praying to find her family waiting inside for her, she raced up the front steps and tried the door. The knob rattled but didn’t turn, locked from the inside. She set down her suitcase and rushed around to the back door. In her haste, she tripped over the body of a man sprawled across the back step.
Unconscious, the soldier shuddered against the chill in the air, his clothes every bit as wet as hers. At least his jerky tremors assured her he wasn’t dead.
Panicked, she pounded on the door. “Open the door! Please!” Fist banging against the wood, she called out to her grandparents, willing them to be there.