Update on shed and Emma's Comments about Time To Love Again

Finally, the part for the shed came. Not just one, but  two of the same part. So now I have a spare part. Not just that, but each box contained 2 panels. We only needed one panel, so now we have 3 extra panels. Guess we'll keep them just in case. So, we now have a whole shed. Yay. 

Now from Emma: 

Rose Asbury is my sister – sorry, was my sister.  After I passed away she became a recluse. Not that she doesn’t have reason to, mind you. We lost our parents within months of each other and Rose and I clung to each for support during our grief. Of course our husbands helped, but Rose and I understood each other.

We were finally adjusting when Rose’s husband passed away suddenly. Poor Rose fell apart, not that I blame her. I would have reacted the same way if it had been my husband.  I was just getting Rose to come out of her shell when bam, I was gone.

That did Rose in. She went to pieces and to make matters worse, her kids moved three thousand miles away. She ignored all of her friends, except for Louise. That’s only because Louise wasn’t about to let Rose ignore her. But everyone else gave up. After all, you can only call people so long and have them ignore you, not return your calls and won’t talk to you, before you quit calling. So that’s what everyone did. But, Louise wouldn’t give up . 

She marched right over to Rose’s house and read her the riot act until Rose gave in and at least went to the store. At least now Rose visits Louise and started to come to grips with life. Not that she has much of a life. 

Stephen Daniels the man next aimed to change that – or so it seemed. Good looking man, too. Anyway, he moved in to take care of his granddaughter while her parents did their tour of duty in the Mideast. He kind of took a shine to Rose. Not that Rose gave the poor man the time of day. Most she did was nod at him. Amazing she did that.

Well, that’s all she did until that day. I can’t help but giggle thinking about it. She fell on the ice and splat, groceries went flying everywhere. Okay, I admit it, I kind of tripped her. I had to do something. The woman was the most stubborn person I’d ever seen. Always was.

 Stephen came to her aid – or tried to. Rose, true to form, ignored him. That’s when I’d had enough. Someone had to talk some sense into Rose. I had to take drastic action.  

Of course, she tried to ignore me, too, but I wasn’t about to let that happen.  I was more stubborn than Rose. Always was.  Nope, it was time Rose started to live again. She was much too young to waste her life away. So I put in an appearance. Scared the heck out of my sister, too. At least in the beginning. She tried to imagine me away, but I wasn't about to let that happen. Oh, no! Rose was going to acknowledge me one way or another. 

Now it seems Stephen’s granddaughter, Sarah, saw the whole thing and had other ideas, too. She didn’t care for the way the old lady ignored her grandpa. Yeah, all kids think anyone over 40 is old. What can I say, we thought the same things.

But I digress. 

Sarah devised a plan to get Rose to talk to her grandpa. She talked her friends into playing in Rose's front yard and building a snowman . You’d think that wasn’t a big deal right? I mean what harm could a snowman do?

Of course, Rose, being the neighborhood grouch –at least that’s how the kids pegged her – had a fit.

After that things got real interesting. If you’d like to find out more about Rose, you’ll have to buy the book, Check out Time to Love Again and Roseanne Dowell’s other books at Books We Love.

EXCERPT from Time to Love Again:

Doesn’t that man ever stay in the house? Rose slammed her car door and tried to ignore the man next door. Just once, she wished he’d let her get away without trying to talk to her. But why should this time be any different? Lowering, her head, she hurried toward her house. Right now she wasn’t in the mood for conversation.  At least not with him.

“Hello, Rose, uh... Mrs. Asbury.” He dropped his snow shovel, grabbed something from the garage, and hurried toward her.

His relaxed, tall, lean body in a denim jacket and jeans caused a stir of excitement in her. Even his graying temples aroused something in her that she found way too familiar. Stirred up feelings she didn’t want stirred up. She barely glanced at him, yet felt a tug on her heart.

Damn! Rose threw the scarf around her neck and pulled her coat close against the cold wind. Why didn’t he just leave her alone? You’d think by now he’d realize she didn’t care to talk to him. Her stomach fluttered, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Hunger pangs, she dismissed it. Nerves, that’s all. She nodded a hello, like always, and hurried to her house. What was it with him? Why did he keep bothering her? Couldn’t he see she wasn’t the least bit interested?

Suddenly, her feet slid out from under her. Splat! She landed on her butt, fell back, and hit her head. Groceries flew everywhere. Oh crap, just what she needed. She looked up to see the man leaning over her.

“Are you all right?”

Heat rushed to her face. Other than humiliated, she was fine. A bit sore, but she didn’t think she had any broken bones. She tried to sit up.

“Wait!” He pushed her back down. “You may have broken something.” He ran his hands gently across her ankles and legs and up toward her thigh.

 A smoldering heat started deep in her stomach. She held her breath, let it out slowly.  Even through her slacks, the heat from his hand sent tingly sensations down to her toes.

That’s it, enough. She pushed his hands away, sat up and managed to get to her knees. The man tried to help her. Ignoring him, she got to her feet and brushed herself off. Heat radiated from her face. Damn, it probably turned as red as her coat.

She bent down and picked up her groceries. She still hadn’t spoken to him. Why didn’t he leave? She could manage just fine without his help.  He picked up some of her canned goods and put them in the bag. She reached for it.

“Here, this is for you.”

“For what?” She looked at the flower in his hand.

“It’s a yellow rose. It means friendship.”

She could see it was a yellow rose, she wasn’t a nitwit. And she knew what it meant. Frank used to bring her roses every week. She took it from him. “I...uh...” Hell, she didn’t know what to say. Why would he give her a flower?

“I saw it and thought of you.” Stephen ran his fingers around his shirt collar.

“Here, let me help.” He took the bag of groceries and started walking toward her door.

 She grabbed the bag from him and ran into her house, too humiliated to speak, leaving him to stare after her.

***

 Stephen stared after Rose. Damn woman made him feel like he did something wrong. Worse than a kid getting scolded by the principal. Why he bought that damn rose was beyond him. It seemed like a good idea when he saw them in the grocery store. Especially when he saw their meanings. Now he wished he hadn’t.

Crabby, old woman, she could have at least said thank you. Okay, so it’s cold and she fell, but she did the same thing in the summer. How many times had he seen her working in her yard? Yet when he came out, she jumped up and hurried into the house. You’d think he tried to attack her or had some horrible disease.

All he wanted was some friendly conversation. He shook his head. Don’t know about her. Obviously she didn’t want anything to do with him. Too bad, she’s an attractive woman. Not that he was looking for anything more than friendship. Hell, he lived here over a year and she never did more than nod at him. Bet she didn’t even know his name.

Crotchety, old biddy.

So why did he bother with her? He really didn’t need more friends. He had the Senior Center and the neighbors a couple doors down, Len and Millie Fisher.  Why he insisted on talking to Rose Asbury he’d never know.

Still, he hoped she wasn’t hurt. She had taken a nasty fall. Bet she’d feel it in the morning. Bet she’d have a good black and blue mark too. He chuckled. Served her right, rude old coot.

Something about her, though. Not sure why, but he wanted to break through that tough reserve. He shrugged and walked back to the garage, put the shovel away and went into the house.

Oh well, can’t say he didn’t try.

****

Rose set her groceries on the counter and rubbed her hip. Gonna be sore as hell tomorrow. Bet it turned black and blue already.  Stupid klutz! Talk about the epitome of embarrassment. Bad enough she fell, but why did he have to see her. She made a fresh pot of coffee, picked up the rose and smelled it. Something about the fragrance of the flower made her think of Frank.

“You could have been nicer to him,” a voice whispered.

Rose jumped back. What the hell? “Who’s there?” She spun around the small kitchen. Shivers ran up her spine. She didn’t see anyone, yet sensed a presence. Cold air brushed past her and settled over the room. She gripped the counter. What the hell’s going on here? “Who’s there?” she yelled again.

“It’s only me.” A shadowy figure appeared in front of her.

Rose backed up and bumped the refrigerator. “Ouch, Damn it.” She hurt bad enough without making it worse. “Who the hell are you?” Damn, it sounded like ....

“It’s me. Don’t you recognize me?”

Rose peered at the shadow. “Recognize you, I can hardly see you.” She rubbed her eyes. This was ridiculous.

“He did help you, Rose. You could have invited him in,” the voice went on.

“I didn’t ask for any help. I could have managed on my own. Besides, I don’t like the feelings he arouses in me.” Somehow she couldn’t help answering aloud. Good grief now she was talking to herself.

“Why not? Frank used to stir those same feelings. Quit acting like you’re dead. Wake up, live. You’ve become a recluse. There’s a big world out there that you used to love. You enjoyed people. The man was only trying to be friendly.” The voice didn’t let up.

Something about the voice sounded like her sister, Emma. But Emma had been dead for several years.  She wished it would leave her alone. She poured a cup of coffee and pulled her sweater tight, trying to block the cold rushing through her.

Rose hurried into the living room, set her coffee on the table, and turned on the television.  Winter weather advisories crawled across the screen. She glanced out the window. Already a thick blanket of white covered the trees and bushes.  She used to love snowstorms, but it seemed like ages ago.

Memory of when her kids were little and she went outside and helped build snowmen or had snowball fights made her smile. Those were the days. They had loved the first big snowfall. But time passed and kids grew up. She sighed.  Grew up and moved away. Now snow was nothing more than a nuisance. She hated driving in it, but at least the road crews kept the main roads pretty clear. They even salted and plowed her street more frequently than normal.

A thumping noise against the house interrupted Rose’s thoughts. “What in the world?” She got up and limped to the door, rubbing her hip. Damn, already it hurt.

Just as she pulled it open, four little pairs of legs raced around the bushes into the next yard.

“Little monsters,” she mumbled. “Go throw snowballs at your own house.”  Shaking her head, she slammed the door.  What’s wrong with kids now days? Her kids had been taught to respect people’s property. Not that they were saints by any means, but they showed adults proper respect, or she’d know the reason why.

If any neighbor had corrected her kids, they damn well better have listened. Today, kids acted like they owned the world. Don’t give a darn about people’s privacy. And for God’s sakes don’t tell their parents. “My little Johnny would never do that,” they said. Yeah right, their little Johnny was usually the ring leader.

“Oh, for heavens, sakes, Rose,” Emma’s voice returned. “What’s the matter with you? People have been like that for ages. Even back in your day there were a handful of people that believed their kids could do no wrong. You were a teacher; you ran across that all the time. That’s not the norm, and you know it. You’re not that old. Can’t you remember what it was like to be a kid, you certainly were no angel.”

Rose jumped at the sound. Where was it coming from? Suddenly a shadowy figure appeared on the chair opposite her.

“Emma?”

The shadowy form didn’t move. Rose put on her glasses and looked closer. Nothing. Damn, now she was imagining things. No angel, “harrumph”.

No, she guessed she wasn’t. She chuckled at the memory of childhood days. Oh how she, her sister and brother had prayed for snow so they could earn money to buy Christmas gifts for their parents. They shoveled snow, but they fooled around a lot too.

 “And threw snowball at the neighborhood grouch’s house,” the voice said.

Rose looked at the chair. Again, the shadowy form presented itself. It looked sort of like Emma. Rose peered closer, and it disappeared.

“Okay, we did, so what? And if you’re going to talk to me, at least have the decency to show yourself.”

 Dear God is that what she’d become, the neighborhood grouch? Rose stood up and went to refill her coffee cup.

“Well so what if I am a grouch? I’m not hurting anyone. Why can’t everyone just leave me alone? I’d have nothing to bitch about.” Rose wanted to get rid of the voice, even if it was Emma. Besides, she didn’t believe in ghosts. Her imagination that’s all it was.

BWL Publishing Inc. July New Releases

BWL Publishing Inc. July 2020 New Releases – https://bookswelove.net

https://bookswelove.net/peters-davis-s/

Morgan Redding faces evil in her mother’s new husband and ends up at her aunt and uncle’s animal rescue refuge, where she meets Rowan.

Rowan Marcus falls hard for the new woman who takes up residence at the wildlife refuge. The cougar inside him wants to make her its mate. Rowan can’t stop his need to protect her at all costs.

Then all hell breaks loose, animals get killed, a crime syndicate’s involved, and Morgan finds out she’s a shifter! Too many secrets, too many forces at work, too many dangerous threats that Morgan and Rowan must face. Thank goodness for the Marcus Pryde.

* * * * *

https://bookswelove.net/doucette-h-paul/

The maid knocked on the door to room 103, hearing no reply, she inserted her pass key and opened the door. When she saw the dead man lying on the floor beside the bed, she dropped her arm load of clean sheets and towels, raising her hands to her mouth. A second later she turned and bolted for the elevator.  Detectives John Robichaud and Pete Duncan would soon be drawn into another complicated investigation as they tried to piece together who the dead man was and why here ended up at the King Edward Hotel with no identification or legitimate reason for being there. Their efforts would eventually put them up against an organized German spy operation that saw them and their friends at Naval Intelligence chasing German agents and murderous merchant seamen from a mystery ship at anchor in Bedford Basin.

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https://bookswelove.net/monroe-eden/

After winter makes its final stand with a ferocious March blizzard, Emerald Valley begins to warm with the promise of spring – and a new crop of Savero Gold foals is eagerly awaited. It is also a time of great joy for Kane and Jessica as they are welcomed home from the hospital with their own precious newborns.

Bea and Will are welcomed with open arms as well when they leave Bermuda for good and return to the lush rolling hills of the Valley. And to everyone’s surprise and delight, Rowdy and Victoria decide to put Texas in their review mirror and move back home to the Valley to raise their children.

Then the unthinkable happens – every parent’s worst nightmare. A child is abducted and a community in shock gathers to pray. And then another child goes missing….

Back Home in the Valley takes you on a gripping journey of suspense you won’t soon forget.

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https://bookswelove.net/killough-lee/

Detectives Janna Brill and Mama Maxwell are chasing shadows. They have an attempted robbery of a political fund-raiser, another of a society bash, and a dead billionaire businessman. All under the eyes of state-of-the-art security. The brass want the case solved fast, but there are no fast answers. There are plenty of witnesses and security footage. Plenty of suspects, too: politicians, drag queens, spies, industrialists, scientists, even robots. But nothing helps identify the assailants, and all the clues only say the crimes were impossible to commit...

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https://bookswelove.net

Featured Author Victoria Chatham

Hello! I am BWL Publishing Inc. author Victoria Chatham. You can view and purchase any of my titles by visiting my BWL Author Page here http://bookswelove.net/chatham-victoria/.

From as far back as I can remember, the writing was as much part of my life as reading. I don’t remember learning to read, only that I could and did. Reading books made a significant impact on my life. Having a soldier dad meant we were always on the move, never overseas but to several postings in England and Wales. I learnt early on the disappointment of leaving friends behind, but books came with me or could be borrowed from libraries wherever we lived.

The power of the stories I read stayed with me, right from Alice in Wonderland and Alice Through the Looking Glass, to Treasure Island, Gulliver’s Travels, Black Beauty and many more of what were then considered children’s classics. At age thirteen, I read my first Georgette Heyer Regency romance, Sprig Muslin, and fell utterly in love with the genre. My favourite Heyer novel is Frederica, which I still find as fresh and funny as the first time I read it.

It was also at age thirteen that I started writing real stories, prompted by my English teachers who praised my award-winning essays. And then life happened. Leaving school and getting a job is a heady experience, especially in the early sixties, with happy hippies and flower power added into the mix. My other life-long love is horses, and it was finally a job in a hunting stable that took me away from home. I still read plenty of books, but the writing faded into the background only to re-emerge when my children arrived on the scene.

Just as I had enjoyed books as a kid, I made sure mine had books too. Quite apart from the books they owned, we made weekly visits to our local library. Those were the days of Fattypuffs and Thinifers, Flat Stanley, The Starlight Barking, and, of course, every Ladybird book published. We also – shock, horror! – drew stories on the dining room wall. I’m no psychologist, but it always appeared to me that telling a child not to do something meant they automatically did it. So we crossed that bridge by designating a wall on which they could draw. When it was full, we painted over it and started writing stories again.

It wasn’t until I immigrated to Canada that I became serious about writing. This time nothing short of publication would do. My husband, now deceased, was my most significant support. He signed me up for writing classes, silently supplied cups of tea and mugs of coffee during the times I sat down to type out the next bestseller, and in general, believed in me while I did not. But writing had become a given, a little bit of heaven every day when I could retreat into a world of lords, ladies, and happy-ever-afters.

I have one contemporary western romance amidst my publishing line-up, but it’s the historicals that I enjoy writing the most. I have also written short stories, three of which appeared in an anthology from which all proceeds go to supporting breast cancer research. One author suffered a loss, one survived, and at the time my stories were included, I was finishing a five-year course of post-cancer treatment. A year after finishing that, I faced a second go-round with breast cancer and all that entailed. Books, through all those treatments and surgeries, were, along with my dogs, my constant companions.

Here is an excerpt from my first Regency romance, His Dark Enchantress. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Six

“Good morning, Miss Devereux.”

“Good morning, my Lord.”

Lucius chuckled, and at the sound, Emmaline set her jaw and lifted her chin.

“Does it kill you to be polite to me?” Lucius asked, his voice as soft as the silk lavender gown she had worn to Almack’s.

“Cuts me to the core,” Emmaline responded promptly.

He laughed at that and escorted her to the waiting riding party.

“I hope you find Psyche to your liking,” he said, indicating the perfectly groomed dark brown mare that Noble held.

“She’s beautiful.” Emmaline patted the mare’s neck before allowing Noble to assist her into the saddle.

Lucius mounted his horse, and with a clatter of hooves, they made their way towards the park. Beamish rode ahead with Lucius while Noble brought up the rear.

“Is all well?” Juliana reached across from her horse, caught Emmaline’s hand, and gave it a little squeeze.

Emmaline returned the pressure. “I’m so sorry, Juliana, but I’m afraid your brother appears to bring out the worst in me.”

“Don’t feel bad. That is a reaction many people experience.” Juliana smiled a little as she thought of how best to explain her brother’s behaviour. “Lucius can often be overbearing. I think it stems from him having inherited the title at such a young age. He was but fifteen when our Papa died, and losing him affected Lucius greatly.”

“I’m sorry. I did not know that.”

“Well, it was a long time ago. Caroline tells me they were on excellent terms, and she would remember, being the eldest of us three. Lucius tried his best to be responsible but became quite wayward after he went to Oxford.”

“I remember you telling me he was considered quite the rake. But, rake or not, you are so lucky to have a family.” A wistful tone echoed in Emmaline’s voice.

“Not all the time.” Juliana checked her mount, which showed signs of wanting to forge ahead. “Both Lucius and Caroline, who I know mean well, are doing their best to marry me off to gentlemen who do not inspire me in the slightest.”

Emmaline took note of the words, not missing the softness with which they were spoken.

“Mr. Beamish has still not spoken to your brother?” she whispered.

Juliana shook her head. “The opportunity has not yet presented itself.”

“How did you come to know Mr. Beamish?”

“His father’s estate borders Avondale Park, and he and Lucius practically grew up together. They are close in age, you know, and went up to Oxford within a term of each other.”

“Oh, I see.”

Juliana shot her an amused glance. “They are opposites, are they not?”

Emmaline smiled at her friend’s perception.

“Maybe that’s what makes them friends,” she said.

Once in the park and trotting smartly along Rotten Row, Emmaline silently agreed with Mrs. Babbidge that it was, indeed, a fine morning. Sunlight glinted off the waters of the Serpentine, a light breeze tweaked the leaves on the trees, and the green turf beside the tan-covered ride stretched invitingly before her. A little demon of daring whispered in Emmaline’s ear but was drowned out by a question from Juliana.

“Did you enjoy last evening?”

Emmaline bit her lip. There was no way she could tell Juliana the truth, that her feelings for Lucius had grown more quickly, more deeply than she could have ever believed and that, once having stepped into his arms, she had not wanted to step out of them.

“It is a long time since I have been in the company of so many people,” she said. “I was simply overcome by it all. I am so sorry I spoiled your evening.”

“You did not spoil my evening, silly.”

“No?” Emmaline gave Juliana a sideways glance.

“Well, maybe a tad,” Juliana admitted with a smile. “I enjoyed Mr. Beamish’s company very much.”

“Aha – now comes the truth of it!”

“As does my brother.”

Emmaline looked up to see Lucius trotting towards them. He sat his horse in perfect balance. Beneath lowered lids, she glanced at the long, firm muscles of his thighs, imagined his slim fingers that were even now encased in black leather riding gloves, closing around hers. She swallowed hard.

“Juliana, I have to ask you quickly – have you divulged any information from my letters to your brother?”

“None. You know I would not.”

Emmaline cast Juliana a grateful smile, but Lucius was too close for her to say more.

“I trust the air has revived you this morning?” he asked of her as he drew alongside.

“Indeed, my Lord, I am now feeling quite well,” Emmaline acknowledged. The little demon was back, its voice stronger now. She turned her head and looked Lucius directly in the eye. “The only thing that could make me feel any better would be to race you to the end of the ride, for I know I would win.”

As soon as she uttered the words, Emmaline could have bitten her tongue. Why had she let that demon spur her to issue such a challenge? She gulped. Too late now to retract it.