HEALING HEARTS

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Healing Hearts

by
C.B. Clark

Genre:
Western Romantic Suspense 

Reeling from loss and heartbreak, Stella King is desperate to escape painful
memories. The position of nanny on an isolated ranch in British
Columbia's rugged Chilcotin Plateau seems the answer to her prayers.

Cattle rancher, Dawson Wheeler, has worked hard to overcome grief and build
a predictable world for his young daughter. The last thing he needs
is the all-too-attractive Stella disrupting the smooth running of his
ranch, especially now that disturbing incidents are happening on his property.

Defending his land against those who want to gut it will be a challenge, but
the biggest threat of all may be to his heart.

Damn it! He should be home in bed instead of driving on this godforsaken, sorry excuse for a road in the middle of the night.

A dark shape darted out of the thick bank of pine trees and sprang onto the road. A pair of eyes glowed in the glare of his approaching headlights.

He cranked hard on the steering wheel, avoiding the deer by inches.

The animal, white tail flashing like a flag, bounded into the ditch and vanished into the forest.
Dawson Wheeler released a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding and eased his foot off the accelerator. Crashing into a deer or moose wouldn’t make this day any better. He rolled down his window and inhaled the sweet-smelling, rain-washed air. The sky had cleared after the morning’s rain shower, and a thin sliver of moon cast a faint glow over the dark wilderness, the trees silhouetted against the velvety sky. In the distance, a dusting of fresh snow glimmered on the jagged peaks of the Coastal Mountains.

Why had he agreed to this crazy idea? He had enough to do at the ranch without having to babysit some pampered know-it-all, especially with that damn mine business hanging over his head.

He slowed as he approached Spirit Falls. The bus stop was nothing but a widening of the road with an old wooden bench set amidst weeds and wildflowers. Glancing at his wristwatch, he grimaced. Mack Hicken, the cantankerous old bus driver who’d driven the route between Hosten and Spirit Falls for what seemed like forever, prided himself on keeping to his schedule in spite of flat tires, knee-deep snowdrifts, and mud-filled ruts.

The bus would have dropped any passengers off an hour ago, but not a single man-made light broke the darkness. The rain and accompanying high winds had delayed Dawson, but the person he was there to pick up should still be waiting. Where would she go? It wasn’t as if a coffee shop was open down the road, or that she could catch a ride in a passing vehicle.

Traffic was sparse on the old logging road at this time of night. Spirit Falls’ heyday had fizzled with the bust in the lumber market, and most folk had moved on long ago. The town consisted of a few boarded-up buildings and a broken gas pump. Jim Svenson ran a small general store for locals, but Jim’s daughter had just had twins, and the proud grandpa had taken an extended vacation to Hosten to meet his new grandsons.

The woman Dawson had come more than a hundred kilometers to pick up must have taken one glance at the desolate emptiness of Spirit Falls and refused to get off the bus. She was probably on her way back to the bright lights of Hosten right now. If she’d bailed, that meant he was off the hook.

Smiling for the first time that day, he pressed down on the gas pedal and sped away from the bus stop. A flicker of white on the shoulder ahead caught his eye, and he slammed on the brakes. The truck skidded to a stop, his seatbelt digging into his shoulder. Catching his breath, he peered through the mud-spattered windshield.

A woman sat perched atop an oversized suitcase. Long, wavy strands of golden hair glowed in the sweep of light cast by his headlights and formed a halo around a face that wouldn’t be out of place on the cover of a fashion magazine. Her full lips lifted in a tentative smile, and she waved.

He frowned and tugged the photograph of the woman he was supposed to meet from his coat pocket and squinted in the glow of the dash lights. The lined, grandmotherly face beamed at him. He glanced at the gorgeous blonde watching him from the roadside. A sinking feeling settled deep in his gut. He removed his cowboy hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and tossed the hat onto the passenger seat.

Maybe she was waiting for someone else.

Maybe.

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C. B. Clark, Author

Award-winning author, C.B. Clark has written six romantic suspense novels published
by The Wild Rose Press. C.B. has always loved reading, especially
romances, but it wasn’t until she lost her voice for a year that
she considered writing her own romantic suspense stories. She grew up
in Canada’s Northwest Territories and Yukon. Graduating with a
degree in Anthropology and Archaeology, she has worked as an
archaeologist and an educator. She enjoys hiking, canoeing, and
snowshoeing with her husband and dog near her home in the wilderness
of central British Columbia.

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NEW RELEASE -- ALEXANDRA'S AWAKENING

When I was growing up, my dad told me stories about his family in Texas. He was from a family of one girl and seven boys—and what a rowdy bunch of boys they were (poor girl!). When he was eight, he moved from a rural area to the town of Denison, Texas so he could attend a good school. That town is the county seat of Grayson County and an important stop on the Missouri-Kansas-Texas Railway, known as the Katy. I’ve visited Denison several times due to my curiosity about what my dad might have seen.

No one knew where my father’s mother was buried. Darling Daughter Number 1, my brother, and I located the cemetery in which my grandmother is buried. Unfortunately, hers was one of many that had a wooden marker. All that’s left of those markers is a stob. (If you’re not from Texas or a rural area, you may not know that a stob is a piece of wood sticking up from the ground. Used in a sentence: I tripped on that stob.)

As the site for my Pearson Grove Series, I chose the area in which my dad was a boy. His first name was Pearson, which is the reason for the series name. He was always supportive of my writing. Sadly, he’s passed away, but I think he’s looking on and smiling that I named the series after him.

Book 2 of the Pearson Grove series, ALEXANDRA’S AWAKENING, is released today! In book one, MAIL-ORDER MORIAH, Alexandra was not likeable. She was snobby and spiteful, but let’s give the girl a chance, all right?

She gets into trouble a couple of times but she also comes to the rescue when needed. ALEXANDRA'S AWAKENING is a sweet western historical. This is a fun book and I hope you'll read and enjoy it.

Here’s the blurb:

A wealthy woman forced to change; a heroic sheriff standing his ground; the danger that unites them…

Alexandra Novak has been raised in wealth and is used to having whatever she wishes. Her parents have spoiled her and she’d begun to believe it her right. A fire that destroys her family home and almost costs her mother’s life starts Alexandra rethinking her values. When her father’s revelation shatters her world, she is determined to do whatever necessary to make her father happy—even if it means being nice to that girl he’s brought into their home.

Virgil Witt is the best sheriff Pearson Grove has had. Under his leadership, crime is at an all-time low. He has reconciled himself to the fact that he is destined to live alone except for his dog. Maybe that’s best since his job is a dangerous one. He can’t understand why Alexandra chases him, especially not after he’s explained he has no money.

When danger strikes the Novak family, can Virgil solve the problem in time? Can Alexandra convince Virgil she has changed? Can the two of them work together or will her need for the best resurface?

The Universal Amazon buy link is http://mybook.to/Pearson The book is also available in print and is free in KU.

This is a stand-alone book but I’d love for you to read the first one if you haven’t already done so. The Universal Amazon buy link for MAIL-ORDER MORIAH is http://getbook.at/MORIAH.

You still have a few days to enter Connie Bretes’ April Showers Romance E-Book Giveaway at the top of this blog. If you click the image you will be taken to the Rafflecopter to enter the giveaway. You'll notice in the graphic that MONK'S BRIDE is part of the giveaway.

STOLEN TIME SHOWS TRUE LOVE IS TIMELESS!

STOLEN TIME

by
Chloé Duval

Genre: Fiction, Sweet Romance

Pub
Date: 6/13/17

In a rural French village, a letter is
delivered decades late, inspiring a young woman to try to reunite two
star-crossed lovers . . .

Middle school teacher by day, romance
writer by night, and group knitter on Tuesday evenings, Flavie
Richalet leads a fairly uneventful life—until she receives a long
delayed letter meant for a total stranger. Postmarked 1971, the
yellowed envelope, addressed to an Amélie Lacombe, holds a fervent
message of love and a marriage proposal, signed only with the initial
E. Given her own fractured family history, Flavie is dreamily
determined to learn what became of the couple . . .

Flavie’s inquiries lead her to a
French seaside inn—and to E. himself, a true romantic who never
forgot the girl who got away so many years ago. But his protective
nephew, B&B owner Romaric, isn’t sure that trying to find
Amélie after all these years is good for his uncle. At odds with the
tall, dark, and impossibly passionate Romaric, Flavie must show him,
and perhaps herself, that true love is timeless—and always worth
waiting for . . .

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Author Blog Post by Chloé Duval:

The “Butterflies”, Or Why I Love Feel-Good Romances.

It all began in Scotland, really. Or at least, that’s where I discovered their true power.

All through my teens, I had been an avid reader of crime fiction, making my way through all of Mary Higgins Clark’s and Agatha Christie’s bibliography, feeding off those few action-packed pages when all the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fall into place and the heroes rush to stop the murderer and save everyone. And when I wasn’t buried into fictional murders, rereading books over and over again looking for the clues I had missed, I was devouring classic novels with troubled souls and intense relationships and love as passionate as it was destructive: JAME EYRE (which, as of today, remains one of my favorite books ever), WUTHERING HEIGHTS, ANNA KARENINA, ROMEO AND JULIET, to name but a few.

And then, one summer, as a sophomore, I went to Scotland to work as an au pair. And one fine day, as the children I was taking care of were otherwise occupied with their parents, I watched a film. A romantic comedy. It was "While You Were Sleeping". That’s when I felt… them. The butterflies. They started quivering their wings in my stomach as soon as Jack appeared on the screen, and never stopped until the last image faded away with a radiant Sandra Bullock marrying the man of her dreams and riding away to her happy ending. By the time the credits were done, I had a goofy smile on my face, and I was feeling cozy, warm and really really happy. As if I was the one getting a beautiful HEA.

That day, my life changed, totally. I started reading romances, feel-good romances, watching every romcom that I could get my hands on, all for the sole purpose of feeling those butterflies again. And then, many years later, it hit me. I needed to write feel-good romances, and I needed to write them now. Reading wasn’t enough anymore. I too wanted to make people feel good. I too wanted to make people all gooey on the inside, and put a goofy smile on their lips. I too wanted to bring a little more light, a little more joy, and a little more happiness to the world. So I started writing. My first attempts were not that good, but nevertheless, I persisted, with the encouragement of my best friend.

One day, as I was stuck on a novel that didn’t want to be written, two things happened. I saw "Letters to Juliet", and heard about a postcard that made its way to its addressee quite a few decades after being mailed. Those two otherwise unrelated events made me start thinking… what if it was a love letter that got lost in the mail? What if in that love letter, a man asked a woman to elope with him, but she never received it? What if life kept them apart after that? What if… what if… Cheeks burning hot with excitement, my heart beating hard against my ribcage, I sat down with a pen and a notebook and started jotting down ideas, plots, character profiles, and that love letter that would be at the center of my story.

A few months later, STOLEN TIME was born. And it was everything that I had ever wanted to write. It was a story that put its arms around me, right from the beginning, filling me with warmth and kindness and telling me, on days when everything seemed dark, “It’s gonna be alright. You are not alone. Everything’s going to work out in the end.”

And that’s why I love feel-good romances, to read and to write. Because it’s a little spot of light in the dark, and it’s a bottomless pit of emotions in the tiny organ that is our heart.

STOLEN TIME Excerpt:

Prologue
Karouac, Brittany
September 4, 1975
It was the most important day of her life.
She’d been waiting and preparing for this day for weeks, and she should have been deliriously happy. She should have been lighthearted and smiling.

But instead, she felt strange and uncomfortable. As though she was forgetting something important. As though she was about to make a mistake.

It’s just apprehension, she told herself. The usual jitters all women feel before they commit for life.

But did all women think of their first love on their wedding day? Amélie closed her eyes, and Erwan’s beautiful face appeared in her mind. She pictured his irresistible smile, his gray-blue gaze, his unruly hair, always too wild to lie flat. She felt his rough hands on her skin, his lips on hers, as though it were only yesterday that they had lain together on the beach.

She shook her head, willing herself to dismiss the memory. It was foolish to think of him, especially right before her wedding. It had been so long ago . . . four years, almost to the day. He’d obviously forgotten her, moved on with his life. He’d never written to her, never phoned her, never gotten in touch with her. She’d waited weeks, months even, for him to reach out to her, before she’d accepted the truth. It had only been a summer fling. So she’d grieved, but then looked to the future. She’d thrown herself into her studies in fashion-design school to forget. Forget all about him.

And now she was finally happy. She’d finished school and gotten the job of her dreams with a small fashion company that appreciated her style and her slightly extravagant ideas. It was almost more than she’d ever expected. Moreover, she was about to marry a wonderful man, one who loved her more than anyone and whom she loved very much. She knew they’d have a great life together.

So why? Why was she thinking of the past, of a painful, bestforgotten period of her life, on the day she was going to marry Paul, for better or for worse?

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her heart, her nerves, her mind. She patted her veil, smoothed a few nonexistent creases in her satin and lace wedding dress. She’d designed it herself, and it was stunning, even if she said so herself. It was the dress of her dreams.Again, Erwan appeared in her mind’s eye.

“For God’s sake!” she swore, cutting herself off immediately.

Someone knocked on the door and her mother peered in. “Are you ready, sweetheart?” Viviane Lacombe asked, beaming. Amélie cast a last glance into the mirror, took a deep breath, and nodded. “I am.”

It was no longer time to wonder about the past.

So, she left her home, the home where she grew up, and, lifting the hem of her dress in one hand, her father at her side, her mother in front of her, beaming much more than her daughter was, Amélie slowly walked the short distance to the beautiful church of Karouac, where her parents had been married. Paul was waiting for her there.

Her family was waiting for her. The minister, and all their friends, were gathered here today to celebrate her wedding to the love of her life. She couldn’t wait to go in and marry Paul, the man who had always been there for her. Who loved her more than anything else. She couldn’t wait to start her life. The life she had chosen for herself.

Yet before she walked into the church, she couldn’t help stopping to gaze around, searching for a face, a smile. She shook her head and cursed the damn memories trying to spoil the happiest day of her life. She turned back and smiled at her father, took hold of his proffered arm, and waited for her cue.

Hidden in the shade of a porch, unseen, Erwan watched as the love of his life walked into the church on her father’s arm to marry another man. He’d been too late, and he’d lost her once again—forever.

He tamped down the urge to enter the church and beg Amélie, on his knees if need be, to come with him, repeating what he’d written in that unanswered letter four years ago, and walked away, his heart breaking, leaving Karouac behind him. Once again, and forever.

As a little girl, Chloé Duval dreamed
of knights slaying terrifying dragons and damsels in distress. Today,
she’s still seeking, in her stories, to find again the sweetness
and the enchantment of the fairy tales she absorbed as a child. A
Frenchwoman by birth, Canadian by adoption, and Québecoise in her
heart, Chloé lives in Montreal with her prince charming and dozens
of characters jostling around inside her head.

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