I'll be releasing my 1950s novella, Letters to Laura, in January (unless anything changes), and I recently shared the cover. Now, i want to share a brief excerpt, and I welcome your feedback! 

​Laura squeezed his hands.  “Don’t make me come after you.”
He smiled crookedly.  “I don’t think you could get across enemy lines.”
She shook her head almost violently.  “I would do whatever it took to find you.”
His eyes glistened.  “You know, I really do believe that, but for now,” he leaned in and kissed her once, twice, “all you have to do is think of me.  That’ll be enough to make sure that bus brings me back in one piece.”
Laura sucked in a sharp breath.  “Don’t talk like that, Mark.”  She clung to him, desperation making her knees weak.  “I’ve loved you for so long, I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you.  I don’t want to imagine it.”  She wrapped her arms around his neck just as a whistle sounded behind them. 
“That’s my call,” he whispered in her ear.
She didn’t release him.  “Remember that I love you.”
He caressed her back through the thin material of her white blouse.  “That’s not something I could forget.”  He pulled back, loosening her arms from around his neck.  “Take care of yourself, sweetheart.” 
He looked deeply into her eyes, and Laura knew he was memorizing her face.  Hopefully, the memory would carry him through the dark days ahead.  She doubted the mere recall of his touch would suffice for her. 
Their lips met again, this time more intensely, and heart beat against heart.
With trembling fingers, she tucked a folded piece of paper into the front pocket of his shirt. He looked down as she patted the material. “What’s this?”
“Just something to read later.”
“Hey, buddy.  You need to get on board, or this bus is leaving without you,” the driver shouted.
With a reluctance Laura parroted, Mark stepped back away from her, his hand still holding hers.  “I’ll write.”
She didn’t trust her voice to speak so she nodded again, holding onto the last piece of him as he backed toward the bus. He stopped when only their fingertips touched.
“I love you, Laura Madison. Never doubt that.”
When his hand fell away, tears filled her eyes, clouding her vision. She didn’t see him climb onto the bus or make his way to his seat. But he lowered the window quickly and called her name again.
She raced toward the window and held up her hand. He touched her fingers again as the engine revved, and the bus began to chug forward. She stood in the same spot, hand raised, watching the dingy white bus roll away from the curb, kicking up dirt before it rumbled out of sight.  And the sun had set low in the sky before she finally turned and walked home.   

After the first of the year, I'm releasing a 1950s novella, Letters to Laura. This was originally entitled Promises to Laura, and I released it under a pen name back in 2014. By the time I'm finished with it, it will have been completely rewritten and expanded so I changed the title. If you read Promises to Laura, this is altogether a different book with only the same premise. 

I decided Promises to Laura was too short and ended too abruptly. Plus, my writing has changed since 2014 so I wanted to improve upon this novella which I still love. I'll choose a release date soon, but the cover is all ready. Please let me know what you think!

This is the first scene in my new YA Fantasy novel, Holding Forgotten Stars. Thanks for reading! 

I’m not cut out to live a life of mediocrity, but that’s what people live here in Northrock, South Carolina. Population 692. And like most things, it rarely changes. It seems as soon as a baby is born, someone dies. No one ever leaves, either. Everyone has just settled here because they’re stuck. The fifty-foot fence surrounding our town keeps us all caged inside. And, to my knowledge, no one has ever tried to find a way out.

But I will. In less than two years, I’ll graduate from high school, and that’s when my life will really start. I know it’ll break my parents’ heart, but I want to see the world. Maybe I’ll drive to Yellowstone and take hundreds of pictures, take a bus to San Francisco and hop on one of those trolleys, and go hiking in the Yosemite and see the Giant Sequoias.

Right now, these are just places I’d read about in our history books and in our one school’s encyclopedia. But they looked magical, and the day I get my high school diploma, I’m taking off. Provided, of course, I can make enough money at my job to buy a car. I don’t earn a lot at Icy Dream, but Dad promised he’d match whatever I made at the ice cream shop so that I could buy a car before my senior year. He doesn’t know I’ll be using it to leave, though.

That’s the plan anyway, but not one person in Northrock has ever seen the fence open. Supposedly, it’s meant to protect us. From what, I don’t know, but I can’t imagine anything beyond it that’s worse than being trapped like an animal.

Before I make my big getaway, I’m going to test the waters, see if anyone is willing to help me find a way out of Northrock. It’s not a plan my parents are going to go for. I know that already, but at least it’ll get us talking about the fence and how someone can leave if they want to. We’ve never talked about that. I don’t think anyone has. It’s just assumed that we’ll all stay here and live happily ever after.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Sammie has been my best friend since the first grade. We never go a day without seeing one another even if we’ve had a fight.

She tugs one of my brown curls and plops next to me on the edge of the creek, dangling her long, pale legs deep into the water. She kicks them back and forth while waiting for my reply.

But I really don’t need to answer her. She already knows. Sammie’s the only one who knows how badly I want to leave Northrock. And while she tries to understand, she just doesn’t. She’s happy here with her boyfriend, Evan, and her parents and sister. All she wants to do is get married and have kids of her own. And she can do that living right here.

She sighs. “You gotta get your nose out of those encyclopedias.”

“I can’t, Sammie. The pictures are so beautiful I can almost reach out and touch those places. You know,” I scoot around so I can face her, drawing one leg up onto the grass, “in those national parks, they have pictures of the sky, and the stars look like diamonds on a black sheet. They’re so big, and I wonder if you could actually touch them.”

Sammie snorts. “Touch a star. You’re dancing outside reality as grandma says.”

I grin. Sammie’s grandmother always brings a smile to my face even if she isn’t present. She just has a way about her that makes everything seem okay. “Yeah, well, even Grammie Maggie probably wouldn’t mind catching a look at those stars. She spends a lot of time in her backyard looking up at the sky.”

“She misses Grampa.” Sammie pulls her feet up and shakes the water off them.
“What are you doing for your history project?”

“Mrs. Fielders just assigned it today.”

“I’m going to do mine on Theodore Roosevelt.”

My nose wrinkles. “Like that’s never been done before. I want to do something different. Maybe I’ll write about the history of one of the parks.”

“You and those parks.” She jumps to her feet and swipes the leaves off the back of her Jordache jeans. “We’d better get back. The festival starts in a couple of hours.”

Regretfully, I stand, but I don’t immediately turn around. The sun glints off the cool waters of the creek, and I wish I could stay put a little while longer.

Sammie hooks her arm through mine. “Let’s go. You’ve got ice cream to dip.”

I nudge her in the side with my elbow. “Not for two hours yet, and I can’t believe I have to work during the festival.”

“Only for the first hour, though, right? I want to ride the Ferris Wheel, and Evan’s too chicken.”

“Yeah, only for the first hour.”

Our tennis shoes scuffle against the dried leaves as we make our way through the woods and back onto the main road that leads into town. Not that there’s much to it, though.

We don’t have shopping malls or theaters here. It’s just a grocery store, some drive-thru restaurants, one steakhouse, a couple of diners, and a big discount store where everyone shops for school clothes. Nothing like what I’ve read about in other towns and cities across the world.

​As we reach the asphalt, I look back over my shoulder at the trees now obscuring the creek. One day, I’m going to leave all of this behind for good. That’s a promise I make to myself every day.

I'm used to watching action movies or fantasy and paranormal. Rarely do I watch movies because I've been hooked by the actors. But that is exactly what happened with The Offer. 

Matthew Goode (A Discovery of Witches and Downton Abbey) and Giovanni Ribisi (Avatar) were two of the stand out actors in this series for me. Goode is a British actor who had to step outside his comfort zone to portray the Senior Vice President of Paramount Pictures, Robert Evans. And he did it. His voice, his look, and even his walk were vastly different than anything I'd ever seen him in, and his acting kept me riveted to the screen. 
 
Giovanni Ribisi portrayed Joe Columbo, the gangster who was the head of a crime family. Ribisi had to gain forty-five pounds for the part and shave his head so he could wear a thinning hair piece. He had to change his voice as well, and had I not looked up who all the actors were, I wouldn't have known which part Ribisi was playing. I could not tell who he was, and that's a good thing. 

This isn't a series that you have playing in the background while you're doing something else. It's the type that grabs you and won't let go. A lot like The West Wing did so many years ago. The Offer is engrossing, and I'm going to be sad when I've finished watching it for the second time because I'll know there's no more goodness to return to. 

The Emmy nominations will be announced next month, and I can only hope that this series and its many characters make the list. It would be a shame not to see all of this creation go unrewarded. 

If you haven't watched it yet, do yourself a favor and add this series to your must-be-seen list. You won't regret it! 

Just a note: The Offer does contain explicit language and violence. 

I'm on Twitter frequently, and I see so many writers still trying to finish writing their first book or trying to find a publisher for a completed book. And though they try to stay positive, occasionally, they reach out to other authors on Twitter because they need a lift, someone to say "It's okay. You're going to make it." 

That's a feeling I certainly understand as years ago, I remember wanting to quit. And this was way, way before the internet when I was still having to send 300 page manuscripts through the mail. (Those postage fees were exorbitant even back in those days!) I didn't think I could take one more setback, whether it was a rejection or my printer breaking. Years later, when I was finally able to look back and had added a few more birthdays, I came to a realization.  

Those weren't the worst days. What I mean is that I had a habit of thinking something was "the worst." My manuscript never reaching the publisher was the worst thing ever. That third rejection was the worst. Feeling like I couldn't write was the worst. And the list goes on. 

Since that time, so much has happened in my life that could classify as worse than getting a rejection. There have been job losses, accidents, disabilities, and chronic pain. I've lost people I loved. I've had my heart broken. I've had multiple surgeries, held off someone trying to kick in the front door of my house, and have faced decisions that had more far-reaching consequences than what publisher I chose to send my next book to. 

This doesn't mean my feelings at the time weren't valid. They were, but, now, years later, I can put them into perspective and see that those times were just stepping stones to get me to where I was supposed to be. And that's the piece of advice I want to leave with you today. The rejections, the difficulties, the successes, the lifts, they're all stepping stones to get you to where you are supposed to be. 

So when you get the next rejection in your email or you don't win the contest you were desperately hoping to win, see that stone and know that you're moving one step closer to where your journey in this life is taking you. Success comes in many forms, and I hope you'll see that by working toward your goals, you are already successful.