Mike Hartner on #Writing is Resting & More on His Writing Process @MHartnerAuthor #Historical

Why Writing is a Form of Personal Therapy

Every day has stresses. The kid’s not feeling well, the bills need paid, the doctor’s appointments need taken, yada, yada, yada,… Every life has its stressors.

For me, sitting in my office, or on my bed, and pouring out my innermost thoughts onto a Word document is Therapy.

I get to concentrate on things that are not my normal life. In the case of The Eternity Series, I was able to start by concentrating on Walter Crofter and his life. Walter was the inspiration for I,Walter and would pour out his life a little at a time so that I could write it down.

Toward the end, James Crofter jumped up and started to instruct me on his life adventure.

Both of these books have been written during late evenings, early mornings, and quiet times during the day. As a parent, many people know that quiet times are few and far between. These are the times when the house is quiet, and when the to-do list can be put off for a few more hours. These are the quiet times when sitting in the hot tub, or the recreation room, or the meeting room with the lights off and nobody else around, can lead to new cha[ters and more research on the life of the next main character.

Writing is resting. It’s the chance to envelop myself in a world where my role is transcription, and I’m listening to the life and death decisions, rather than making them. Writing is the therapy that lowers the blood pressure that stimulates the mind, and brings a smile to the face.

James Crofter was ripped from his family at age 11. 
Within a year the prince was a pauper in a foreign land. 
Is nature stronger than nurture? And even if it is, can James find the happiness he so richly desires? 

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Genre - Historical Fiction, Romance

Rating – PG

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#Excerpt from The House by Sebastiana Randone's @sebasti29567440 #AmReading #HistFic

The architecture resembled a fairy tale model. That in this case lamentably, was more like something found in a horror story. Grim and inhospitable, the imposing structure, defended by an overgrown garden, spoke of long neglect.

Situated amongst strangulating weeds, mossy statues of curvaceous goddesses whispered secrets of time past. Whilst centrally, an arid birdbath stained turquoise from the decay of time, stood lonely and forgotten. On the whole, one could only deduce human absence by the squalid state of things.

Large ageless trees posed as guardians, while their silhouetted branches danced upon the cracked, time worn walls, moving to the wind’s song rustling through leaves.

Above, a turret rose defiantly out of the roof of the two storey house, embellished by carvings of strange beasts. This cluster of gargoyles and winged beings cast their mischievous eyes upon the world, sending a shiver through the visitor. Who could not help but fear that housed within the decrepit walls of this unwelcoming abode, a dark scene from Grimm brothers, wicked witch and all awaited, ready to pounce.

Venturing forward towards the entrance nevertheless, she pushed against the rusted lacework gate before her. It grunted as it opened reluctantly, the hinge barely able to submit through lack of use. As she entered into the garden, sounds, almost inaudible at first, seemed to emanate from somewhere within the house. Assuming the trees to be the perpetrators, she stood still so as to listen. Strangely, the birds complied by desisting from chatter, as did the forest, whose breathing had stilled.

Now a piano was vaguely audible. This compelled her to knock on the door that, much to her surprise, opened on its own.

Calling out she crept into a vestibule filled with an array of paintings and other exquisite objects. Oddly, the brightness of the foyer defied the impending gloom of night’s approach.

Growing ever louder, the music had a magnetic affect on the young visitor, who, in a state of increasing curiosity, entered into a great hallway that seemed never-ending in grandeur. Somewhat surprising was the lack of dust and decay, which contrasted sharply with the derelict appearance of the house’s exterior.

The House is an adult fairy tale rich in mystery and intrigue.

Here is a tale of a woman so absorbed with historical novels that her own reality ceases to offer any hope of romance and beauty.

Until one day this dreamy idealist finds herself in a mysterious forest. How she arrived there is unknown. Soon she encounters a dilapidated house, within whose ancient walls magical rooms that transport to parallel worlds lie in wait.  There she is transmigrated to 18th century England, where our heroine interacts with an odd mix of characters whose dysfunctional lives become immediately apparent.

Her first tribulation involves a nefarious lord, an archetype of the monstrous characters one encounters in fairy tales. The ramification from this confrontation sets the tone for the narrative.

A magic portal finally enables escape from the austere Georgian dwelling. She is then spirited back to the enigmatic house, and a journey to Regency London follows, where a large cast of eccentric identities present themselves.

Late one night, following a long stay in Florence, a young, heart-broken poet arrives. His introduction to the beautiful time traveller offers promise of restoration and love. But there are several more obstacles ahead before her destiny in this curious adventure is made apparent.

In the end an unexpected twist is revealed. But like all good fairy tales, this surprising conclusion is pleasing, even though the means of getting there are dark, and at times sinister.

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Genre - Historical, Fantasy, Romance

Rating - PG-16

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Date with the Dead by Chris Myers @CMyersFiction #YA #Paranormal #Mystery

Chapter 5

After the Caldwells give us our licenses back, Reese and I head out.

“Do you want a ride home?” he asks.

“That’s okay. It’s only a couple miles,” I say. “Let’s talk about the evidence tomorrow.”

“I’ll go over it tonight,” he says, grinning at me.

I’m glad he’s into the techie side of the business. Going through hours of video and voice recordings bore me. Drew and I climb onto my bike. Dark clouds cover the moon, so I pedal fast to beat the rain. I should’ve accepted the ride.

We aren’t even a quarter of the way home when fat droplets splatter my arms. “Shoot.”

Drew squeezes my waist. “Get over. This SUV’s going to clip us.”

Bike reflectors are hard to see at night, so I don’t look behind me but get off the road as far as I can. The headlights shine on me and light up the road in front of me. I’m right against the curb. Surely, he sees me. The SUV slows. The engine breathes on me. I don’t look back. Why isn’t he going around?

The vehicle camps on my rear fender for a minute.

“What’s he doing?” Drew asks.

“I don’t know.”

The SUV slowly comes beside me. I look into the tinted windows. I can’t see inside, but the thought of someone staring back at me sends chills along my arms.

The SUV speeds up and brushes against my left pedal. My body jumps as if I’ve been struck by a live wire. The bicycle swerves. I hit the curb and flip, which would’ve seemed graceful if it had been on purpose. My body slides against the sidewalk then onto someone’s lawn.

“Jerk,” Drew yells, pumping his fist in the air.

“I don’t think he can hear you.” I gather myself while rain droplets plunk down on my head, matting my hair.

“Are you okay?” Drew asks, helping me to my feet.

“I’ll survive,” I say, assessing the damage. My right knee is banged up. Shin and palm road rash. I’m shaking hard like I’m holding onto the wing of an airplane flying through a storm.

Computer? I yank it from my back pack. It’s okay. I sigh with relief.

My front handlebars are askew. Great. I’ll have to walk my bike home in the rain. Another drop hits my nose. I tighten my thin jacket and shiver from the sudden wet cold. I pick up the bike and push it while wincing with each step I take. 

A blue FJ Cruiser drives onto the curb behind me. Add embarrassment now to my list of injuries. The rain patters my head.

The driver gets out. It’s Hayden, Mr. Terminator. My knees buckle, not that they needed much encouragement. Why couldn’t it be a teacher, someone I don’t care if he sees me looking my worst? Hayden’s in jeans and a snug polo shirt and looks fabulous whereas I probably look like road kill.

“Jesus,” he says. “I saw that guy run you off the road. He was probably chatting on his cell phone.”

That could be true, but the way he slowed down still has me trembling. “Did you get his license plate?” I ask.

“Sorry. I was too far back.” Hayden walks over to me. “Are you okay? Do you want me to call an ambulance?”

That would cost money. “No. I’ll be fine.” I hobble another few steps forward, because the rain is picking up its tempo.

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Genre - YA Paranormal Mystery, Romance

Rating – PG-13

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Website http://www.chrismyersfiction.com

Jack Canon's Women of the House: Love, Lust & Loyalty by @GregSandora #Romance #Thriller

 "You’d be like the Pied Piper of sex appeal." He answered, his eyes glued to Sandy’s milky white thighs. 

"Thanks, Tip, I guess that’s a compliment –right?"

Tip was looking like he wanted to ask her a question.

"Tip, is there something on your mind," Sandy asked, being nice.

"I wanted to ask you…I mean see if you would tell me, why I have so much trouble…"

"With women?" Finishing his question, stating the obvious.

"This should be good," I said, handing Sandy my card, "Get something nice for you, too."

"Tip, you watching? – Jack knows how to treat a woman. It’s a wonder you haven’t picked up anything—being around him all this time."

"I just thought he had some sort of special charisma or something I don’t." Tip answered.

"Well you're right about the charisma, but really there’s something else – and I think it would help, but you’ve got to be honest."

"What," Tip asked anxiously—genuinely wanting pointers.

"The first time I met Jack, he didn’t mention he was a Senator. I walked into an old mattress store – not knowing what I was going to find—Jack looked into my eyes… like an equal. Sure, since then he’s put me on a pedestal, but let me ask you, Tip. What’s the first thing you see when you look at a woman? Be brutally honest – just this once, I won’t mind. "

"I don’t know – it’s different every time, I usually focus on something that catches my eye—like boobs, hair, legs –Tip explained like he’d be getting extra credit for being thorough.

Sandy shook her head, "It’s worse than I thought. You know what I felt the first time Jack looked at me?"

"What?" Tip asked, curious.

"Like… he saw me – as a person – a whole person, not just an object."

"Tip, when I look at a woman as parts it’s intimidating for me, too." I said, trying to make him feel better.

Sandy crossed her leg and starting rolling her ankle, "Tip, what do you see when you look at me?"

"You want me to be honest?"

"Of course—I can’t help you if you’re not."

"Well today I noticed your hips, but I always love your soft doe face."

Sandy looked puzzled, "Soft doe face? What is that?"

"He means you have a very feminine pretty face – there’s no hardness in it."

Tip added, "The women I see usually have rougher facial features."

"Where are you meeting these girls, Tip?"

"Strip clubs mostly."

"That’s nasty Tip! Ewe!"

"Beautiful woman are intimidating – at the clubs the girls are really friendly, easy going."

"They’re friendly because it’s their job – they’re easy because you’re paying them—would you want to marry a girl from one of your clubs?"

"No, but I feel comfortable. I know it’s a job."

"Gross, Tip, that’s so sad."

"A lot of agents have trouble meeting women."

"You need some serious help!" Sandy sounded like a concerned sister.

I coaxed, "He needs a good woman, – do you think you could introduce him to one of your girlfriends?"

"I’d really appreciate any advice you could give me, Sandy." Tip was sincere.

"Tip’s not ready for one of my friends – seriously the girls I know are very needy emotionally – he’d be lost."

Trying to help persuade her, "So, you’re basically resigning him to a life of strip clubs and hookers?"
Sandy looked at me wide-eyed, raising her eyebrows, "Crude, Jack, you’re enjoying this aren’t you." She turned to Tip, "You’re a good man, – you deserve to be happy. Tell me Tip, what do you think women want?"

"I don’t really know – I guess – to be made happy?"

"So how would you do it then – make a girl happy that is?"

"Agree with her, make her feel important, give her things I guess."

"That’s a start, but a woman needs so much more. She wants someone who can share in her emotions without being swallowed up by them. A man who will take his time with her and make time for her—She doesn’t want to be rushed, but still likes spontaneity and excitement. She wants to feel like your equal and be respected for what she brings to the relationship. And, I’m just scratching the surface here."

"Men…do all this?"

"Some do—Jack does this stuff—he’s kind… caring—he listens. Jack enjoys what women are all about—He looks with great passion. Tip,—she wants to know that you’re desirable to other women and she didn’t just get stuck with you."

"What about…?" Tip stopped himself, embarrassed.

"The bedroom...She’ll forgive you. Don’t worry she’ll follow your lead. Just don’t make her feel bad by talking about it later. That’s the one place you can sort of be yourself...I can’t believe I’m saying this—the poor thing …take it slow."

"Are there classes?"

"A good woman will teach you."

"Did Jack know all this?"

"Are you kidding? All he had was a smile when I met him – and a wandering eye. It’s taken me years of subtle clues and hints to train him."

"Some not so subtle," I said, poking fun.

"She wants a friend – but not a guy that makes her feel responsible to make the first move or like she’s a locker room pal."

Tip looked puzzled, "I’m lost."

"Jack, just for fun – tell Tip what you’re really thinking… right now."

"You’re serious –now? No holds barred – what I’m really thinking?"

"Yes, something you’d normally never share with me."

Tip chuckled, "This oughta be good."

"Before you do… let me guess." Sandy squinted and looked up to the left then to the right –

"Something about my panties?"

"Close—what was left of those cutoffs you were wearing that day by the lake."

"I was really close then. Tip, what did you think Jack was thinking?"

"I would have said World peace – you know to make you happy."

"Coward- okay tell the truth what are you thinking right now?"

"The truth… really? – what it would be like – you know…if you were my girlfriend." Sandy rolled her eyes, pursing her lips.

"Not going to happen- but I’ll help. We just have to start really slow."

"Jack gets to say what’s on his mind and you’re okay with it?"

"There’s a lot of trust built up that you and I don’t share. Stop whining – that’s a deal killer for sure."

"You asked though. I thought you wanted honesty?"

"Sometimes…oh forget it…"

Tip cut her off, "Am I a lost cause then?"

"No, I didn’t say…don’t feel like that – we’ve got something to work with. You’re good looking – dangerous – you might be a girl’s worst mistake, at least for the first few, but you’ll learn as you go."

"So will you set me up with one of your friends? One who looks most like you—preferably?"

"Sweet, Tip…, but wrong. Not when you don’t understand the first thing about a woman. They’d thank me at first, but you wouldn’t last two weeks with one of my friends – try to imagine flying too close to a super nova. They’d burn you up and drag you into an emotional black hole. You’d never escape!"

"I can keep a woman safe, at least."

"Of course you can. A woman wants to feel safe, understood, but she also wants a man that isn’t afraid of her -someone who can be honest. Tell her the truth once in a while. Then grab her and make love without asking. A woman wants to live the full range—she wants you to be able to feel her emotions with her – from misery to elation. Can you do that?"

"I can try."

"That-a-boy, let’s go out sometime and find you someone suitable. A starter girlfriend."

"That will be great, are you free tonight?"

"Tonight? I guess so – you don’t need for anything, do you, Jack?"

"No I’m good – take him out – it’s on me." I was happy to make the offer. Sandy would have a project and I wouldn’t feel guilty about leaving her behind.

"We’ll find you a girl with a doe face. You’ll have to show me – but once I know – I’m sure we can find you one. If that’s what you want."

"Really? This will be great. Sandy, I’ll owe you!"

"You’ll owe me big time!"

Two months have passed since the long awaited inauguration of the New President of the United States - Jack Canon. Now he must live up to his promises. The World is wounded, people are hurting, the new President must keep the country afloat. Jack leads a very full life - The first couple's relationship is hot with passion, but he can never admit that to Sandy, his best friend who is also head over heels in love with him. The Women of the House provide a welcome distraction while helping with the arduous task of running the country.

As President Jack must make tough decisions: Global Terrorism, Human Trafficking, Korea on the brink of war, all while thwarting International Greed. Women of the House is a story of noble sacrifice at extremely high cost. Who's going to be the first to be strong enough and willing to pay? It's not all work in Women of the House - Think the Wedding of the Decade meets the Crime of the Century.

Jack Canon's Women of the House, is a story filled with Love, Lust, and Loyalty where passions can run wild! In Sandora's monumental sequel, patriotism and valor mingle with an undying love that refuses to quit. Ride along as Jack Canon fights back against the most evil people on the planet. Readers are sure to embrace this unforgettable tale which will appeal to fans of political adventure, suspense and romance alike. Jack Canon's Women of the House is a story of kindness, passion and courage that can't be separated.

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Genre - Romantic Thriller

Rating – PG-13

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Meet & Greet with #Author Deborah Hawkins @deborahhawk3 #Romance #Mystery

Why do you write?

Because I’m a born storyteller.  I grew up in the South, and all Southerners love to hear stories and to tell them.  When I meet new people, even if I’m just in a line at the grocery store or post office, I get them to tell me a story.  I think listening to stories is as important as telling them.  People  love to have an audience even here in California where the natives tend to be rather reserved, unlike Southerners who will tell you their life story in a heart beat.

What writing are you most proud of?

My first published novel, Dance For A Dead Princess.  It was not easy to weave  together a modern mystery-love story with a historical mystery-love story and have both be relevant to each other.  I was excited when I read  Diane Donovan’s review at the Midwest Book Review because she really understood what I was trying to do and made me feel great about my work!

(Link to book review)

http://www.midwestbookreview.com/mbw/oct_13.htm#donovan

(Link to book)

Amazon link: http://www.amazon.com/Dance-For-Dead-Princess-ebook/dp/B00C4HP9I0

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dance-for-a-dead-princess-deborah-hawkins/1114978129?ean=2940016545196

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/301660

Website:   http://deborahlhawkins.com/

What are you most proud of in your personal life?

Creating a family.  I’m sort of an orphan, and I always wanted a family.  So I had to create one.  I’m also very proud of working to change my career at this point in life. It is not easy to practice law all day and write and promote fiction at night.  But I accept the challenge and keep working at it.  I want to be a fiction writer more than a lawyer, and I’m going to work to make that happen.

What books did you love growing up?

I loved Louisa May Alcott when I was in elementary school.  I read all of her books over and over, but  An Old Fashioned Girl was my favorite.  I’ve read it too many times to count.  Then, when I got a little older I discovered Mary Stewart.  Not only does she tell a marvelous story, her prose is beautiful.  I read her books countless times, too; but I particularly love Nine Coaches Waiting.    And of course, I love Jayne Eyre and everything Jane Austin wrote.  I read a lot of poetry in graduate school.  My major figure was W.B. Yeats, and I also read T.S. Eliot to distraction and Emily Dickinson.  I lived in Dublin for six months back in the 1970's while I was studying Yeats.  I learned a lot.

Who is your favorite author?

In addition to the ones named in the last question, I like Jody Picoult, Karen White, Anita Shreve, Rosamond Pilcher,  Scott Turow,  John Grisham, and Tom Clancy.  (Kind of an eclectic mix.)

What book genre do you adore?

Real romantic suspense - the ones that Mary Stewart wrote, where you have a complete mystery and a complete love story in the same book.  I think a love story should be about the development of the characters as they discover each other.  I’m not a fan of books where it’s just all sex.  That’s too shallow for my taste.  I want to get to know the people in the story, what they feel, and why they wind up together.

Is your family supportive?  Do your friends support you?

My children have been extremely supportive.   My daughter was my earliest reader  though all the versions of the book. My youngest computer genius child created my website and advised me about online marketing.  My second son has encouraged me to keep writing.  And my friends are just the best.  They support my internet marketing efforts and make me feel great when I see their “likes” on Facebook.  I count myself blessed to have such wonderful family and friends.

What else to you do to make money?

In my “day job” I am an appellate attorney.  I work at home in my living room writing briefs for the court of appeal.  When you lose in the trial court, you come see me.  I do a lot of court-appointed work which means I do a lot of criminal appeals.  It’s ironic because criminal law was not my favorite subject in law school.  I never meet these clients.  I just read what happened at their trials and write about it.

I only own one suit and I actually only have to go to court about once every three years to do oral argument.  Since telling people I am  a lawyer sounds really intimidating (and I am anything but intimidating), sometimes I just say I’m a legal writer.   That best describes my job, anyway.

I wanted to be a university professor and teach writing, but there were no jobs when I got out of graduate school.  So I went to law school.  Law is a great education for a woman on her own.  You can really take care of yourself if you have a law degree.  And now it gives me great story ideas.  So it has all worked out well.

What other jobs have you had in your life?

I taught writing at university before I went to law school, and I worked as a technical editor for scientists working on nuclear energy.   The training as an editor turned out to be invaluable.   I’m really good at editing, including my own work, and I enjoy that part of the process.   My scientist authors  used to request me as their editor because I can improve manuscripts without interfering with the authenticity of the author’s own voice.  I don’t think an editor should make the work the editor’s.  I think an editor’s job is to bring out the best in the writer.   I can do that, and I love doing it.  When I get through, the draft is bright and tight and clean but it still belongs to the author, not me.  The best editors get in and out and don’t leave themselves behind.

I also loved teaching writing in a non-critical way that helped my students gain confidence in themselves as writers.  Too much criticism shuts off the creative flow.  First you write.  Then you edit.  The two steps are separate.  I loved seeing my students gain confidence in themselves.

Do you plan to publish more books?

Absolutely, yes, yes, yes.  I have finished a second novel that needs editorial work. The working title is Ride Your Heart ‘Til It Breaks.  I am currently putting chapters of my third novel Dark Moon up on my blog, http://dhawkins.net.   I am thrilled to get new followers every week.  I’ve always been uncomfortable with being a lawyer.  It’s not the real me.  I like to laugh and play too much to fit the legal stereotype.  I’d rather crack jokes in court than argue the law. (Although I stick to the script and do my job, of course.)  I’m really a writer and an artist and a free spirit.   Now that my children are grown up, I have promised myself to devote the rest of my life to writing and publishing. (And becoming a better musician.)

What is hardest, getting published, writing or marketing?

I think marketing is challenging.  There is no one formula that works, and I realize I am often stabbing in the dark, trying to figure it out.    But I promised myself at the beginning to forgive my marketing mistakes because I’m just learning.  I was disappointed initially when people reacted to Dance for A Dead Princess as an exploitation of Princess Diana.  It isn’t.  I respect Diana too much to do that.

The book is actually the story of the fictional Carey family and how it manages to survive because Taylor Collins shows up and figures out Nicholas Carey.  They are people who’ve had horrendous pasts, and together they heal each other.  Diana is a background figure who helps to develop the character of Nicholas, my modern duke and captain of industry.   I loved Diana so much when she was around in the 1980's.  I took my first bar exam on the day of her wedding, and I got up in the wee hours of the morning to watch her get married before heading off to a full day of writing the exam.  And then her children were just barely older than mine, and I loved her because she loved being a mother the way I did.  And I also was inspired by the way she brought compassion to a job that can be stuffy and remote.  I put a lot of my feelings for Diana into my hero, Nicholas.  I can just imagine the two of them together, talking and comforting each other.

How often do you write?  And when do you write?

For my “day job” of writing appellate briefs, I write every day. Usually six hours spaced between 9 a.m. and 6 p.m.  In between I have to run errands and look after my Golden Retrievers.

But the real fun begins at night.  After I spend an hour practicing clarinet, I pull out the laptop and start on my fiction writing.  I don’t use the laptop for anything else.  The “day job” gets done on the PC, so having different equipment helps me mark the transition from lawyer to writer/creative/artist.  I aim for writing fiction every day, but sometimes the well is dry and I have to wait for it to fill up.  When that happens, I read what I’ve written, go over my outlines, and wait for the moment when I know what happens next.  And that moment always comes.  I also think a lot about plot and pacing the story.  I want to keep the reader involved and guessing.  My favorite novels are the ones you can’t put down, and I aim to write those.

In January 1997, Princess Diana received a phone call telling her she would be assassinated. She recorded the information on a secret video tape, naming her killer and gave it to a trusted friend in America for safekeeping. It has never been found.

Diana's close friend, Nicholas Carey, the 18th Duke of Burnham and second richest man in England, has vowed to find the tape and expose her killer. After years of searching, he discovers Diana gave the tape to British socialite Mari Cuniff, who died in New York under mysterious circumstances. He believes Wall Street attorney Taylor Collins, the executor of Mari's estate, has possession of it. He lures Taylor to England by promising to sell his ancestral home in Kent, Burnham Abbey, to one of her clients, a boarding school for American girls. Nicholas has dated actresses and models since the death of his wife, ten years earlier, and has no interest in falling in love again. But he is immediately and unexpectedly overwhelmed with feelings for Taylor at their first meeting.

Taylor, unaware that Diana's tape is in her long-time friend and client's estate and nursing her hurt over her broken engagement to a fellow attorney in her firm, brands Nicholas supremely spoiled and selfish. She is in a hurry to finish the sale of the Abbey and return to New York. But while working in the Abbey's library, Taylor uncovers the diary of Thomas Carey, a knight at the court of Henry VIII and the first Duke of Burnham.

As she reads Thomas' agonizing struggle to save the love of his life and the mother of his child from being forced to become Henry's mistress, she begins to see Nicholas in a new light as he battles to save his sixteen-year-old ward Lucy, who is desperately unhappy and addicted to cocaine. But just as Taylor's feelings for Nicholas become clear and at the moment she realizes she is in possession of Diana's voice from the grave, she learns that Nicholas may be Lucy's father and responsible for his wife's death at the Abbey at the time of Lucy's birth. When Nicholas is arrested for Lucy's murder and taken to Wandsworth Prison, Taylor sets out to learn the truth about Nicholas, his late wife, and the death of the Princess of Wales.

Dance for A Dead Princess is a the story of two great loves that created and preserved a family that has lasted for five hundred years.

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Genre – Contemporary Romance,Mystery

Rating – G

More details about the author

Connect with Deborah Hawkins on Facebook 

Website http://deborahlhawkins.com/