I am superstitious. I can’t help it. I don’t know where it comes from. I don’t sit on a bed after it is made to perfection and I have heart failure if any visitor to my home does. Pull the covers down first if you need to nap. That’s fine. Okay. So now I’m a writer. I need good luck along with craft and a few good author pals. I have a keeper who likes to nap. And I have cats for the first time in my life. Cats are no respecters of superstition. I don’t make the bed up any more. There is good luck, bad luck and no luck. Not making up my bed guarantees NO LUCK. I’m good with it. The cats are good with it and my keeper is good with it–or maybe not, but I didn’t ask his opinion.Read the rest of this entry »
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Lottie Roberts has been sitting on her bones since the Civil War and waiting for her ticket to heaven until…Justine Hale moves into Lottie’s two-hundred-year-old house. Lottie senses in Justine a kindred spirit—filled with heartache and in reduced circumstances—which mirrors Lottie’s situation exactly. Justine needs help and Lottie is of a mind to provide it. But before Lottie can say squat Tucker Highsmith shows up to steal her thunder. His dark eyes, lazy grin, and sexy Alabama drawl coupled with the dern braggart’s Mr. Fix-it talents just might be the answer to all of Justine’s problems. Or maybe not…Read the rest of this entry »