Small Town Romances With Heart
Merry Christmas to all my readers, family and friends. This weekend, you can grab a free download of my short story “Dancing Lessons” for free. The freebie starts Saturday and runs through Sunday. Even if you don’t want to read it just yet, go ahead and grab your free copy today.
I hope everyone has a very blessed Christmas filled with love, laughter, family and friends.
I often refer to myself as an introvert. Some of my family and friends always say, “Pish, Posh. You’re so outgoing and good at talking to people you don’t know.”
That doesn’t mean that I like it, though. In fact, I would much rather communicate with you behind a keyboard than face-to-face. In conversations with people I don’t know well, I often feel awkward.
I don’t know what to do with my hands! Do I put them on my hips? Cross them? Use them to express myself? Fold them in front? When I’m at parties and gatherings, I often find myself wondering what I should do with my hands. I will watch other people, but what they are doing doesn’t always seem correct either. Why are these things that we use for so many daily tasks suddenly so awkward when talking to other people?
Just for the record, I loathe small talk. People who love the written word crave deep, meaningful conversations. Even though I’ve taken the Dale Carnegie course and I know all the questions to ask to keep the conversation going, that doesn’t mean that I LIKE that conversation.
Sigh. This kind of conversation makes a writer want to bang her head against a wall. It is so painful to me. Oh, how I love the people who jump naturally into conversation and you feel as though you’ve known them half your life. One of my favorite people of all time started a conversation with me by saying, “Don’t you hate the way men are so filled with road rage?” Thus began a conversation about road rage and shared stories of one another’s lives. These people are rare. I also like those who are chatterboxes because it saves me from having to draw information out of them, which I also hate.
I can honestly say that while I love my friends and family and I enjoy them when I am around them, they are a small circle. I really and truly feel most comfortable when I am alone. I was raised an only child (I do have a half-sister, but she was older and only around occasionally). I think that probably has a lot to do with why I am so fond of my own company. I learned at an early age to entertain myself with books, Barbies, music. I learned to embrace being in my own space and my own skin.
Although I sometimes get lonely working from home alone and will venture out to lunch with a friend or to visit one of my closest friends at her workplace, I can honestly say that there are also times that there is a feeling of giddy relief when everyone leaves and it is me, my animals and my keyboard alone at last.
I dread going out places. I think about everything else I need to do. I make excuses. Oh, it’s raining, so I’m not going. I often force myself to go anyway, because I know I sometimes need some human companionship and I enjoy my small circle of friends. I truly like them as people. They are smart, kind, caring, strong women. However, it is hard to get myself going to go out to dinner with the group of women I sometimes meet up with or even just to go out with a friend.
PJs win every time. I’d much rather be at home in my PJs. I don’t care if you think I’m boring. There’s another season of whatever show on Netflix.
Your group of friends just told you they invited someone new to the gathering. Your husband wants you to meet his new friend and the man’s wife. Your editor tells you she just has to introduce you to some people. I am comfortable with my group of friends and I do make new friends from time to time but it has to have a natural flow to it. I find that when people try to make me be friends with one of their friends that I rarely have the same things in common with that person. In fact, I will admit that I find some people pretty annoying. It’s okay, though. I’m sure I annoy them, too.
Extroverts tend to be seat of the pantsers. They will make plans on the fly. On the other hand, I have my life planned out for the next several months. In fact, my vacation for 2017 is already planned. Introverts are often detailed planners. We have to-do lists as well. I have kept to-do lists since I could write. I don’t know what I’d do without one for everything from my daily tasks to packing for a trip. However, I notice that I also tend to get a lot more done than those pantser types. I’m sure there is an argument for not using to-do lists. I just can’t figure out what it might be.
I know what I like and don’t like. I know who I like and don’t like. I know what things I’ll be doing next week and next year and ten years from now. And, I am very content and happy with those things. I like books, animals more than people, and a good romantic comedy. I don’t mind going to the movies alone. In fact, I rather enjoy it.
What do you think? Are you an introvert or an extrovert? Why?
Dear Readers,
This is a book that was originally released in 1998. I have completely updated it and am rereleasing it. It has not been released elsewhere since that original, very limited release by a publisher that has since gone out of business, but I still love the characters in this story as much today as I did back in 1998.
Gage and Catherine have a lot of obstacles to overcome, but like many people, they often connect in the kitchen over food, so I’ve included a couple of recipes in this book that I think you’ll enjoy
They also connect over the beloved land around Durango, Colorado. I hope you enjoy their journey as much as I did. Read more details about Picking Up Cowboys.
I recently came across an online post that ripped apart an article I wrote about Second Life as a promotional tool and some Second Life news I included. As with any criticism, it stings at first. I’ve been writing many years and this only happens occasionally. However, I learned early in my writing career that you should take a deep breath and then go back and read the criticism, rejection letter, bad review, or whatever it is with fresh eyes. There is almost always something you can learn from the criticism. My goal is to try to continue to grow and improve constantly as a writer and as a human being, so feedback of any type is priceless to me.
In this case, I realized that while I was being misquoted and things taken out of context quite a bit about my Second Life article and the points I was making, I could make some of my sentences just a bit clearer to make sure I clarified to the reader exactly what I was saying. I was taken to task for quoting a number of users on Second Life. This person’s argument was that there weren’t that many “active” users. Of course, I’d never said that there were, but the criticism allowed me to realize that perhaps readers would be a bit confused (or at least one reader) between registered users and active users and I was able to go back and add a line about how many “active” users there are and also that of course not every active user is going to participate in something. I assumed this would be common sense and understood, but when you assume that as a writer, you sometimes miss the mark.
This actually improved my article (which you can read here), and I love to grow and improve as I go along. I still believe that Second Life can be a valuable tool when you’re looking for unique ways to promote yourself and I stand by that and the recent Second Life news I’ve read. Is it perfect? Will people flock to your event? Is anything perfect? Does anyone flock anymore?
The goal is to reach a new audience and while it will take some of your time, it is worth trying, especially for those wanting to reach specific demographics. Author Karen Kay held an event on Second Life where she interacted with others and she was quite happy with how it turned out. Is this something you can necessarily measure in cold, hard sales numbers? Of course not. Anyone who markets knows that you get 20% return on 80% of your effort (or so) and unless you are using landing pages and A/B testing for specific advertisers, you may never know what is working best. You try things. You reach new people. It builds over time. In the article, I am simply offering another idea you can try out at some point should you wish to.
Will I link to that other negative post or comment on that blog? I decided not and I ask you not to and here is why…
I don’t waste my time on negative energy and people who want to tear others down. Instead, I try to let it inspire me a bit and thus the inspiration for this topic. Had the writer of that article dug a bit deeper in the type of writing I do, he would have realized that I try to come up with unique ways to help people on a budget promote their businesses. I am not a gamer. Although I have played in virtual 3D worlds, including Second Life, that wasn’t the point of the article. I’ve never claimed to be a gamer. That wasn’t the point of my article at all.
Will every single idea work for every single person? Of course not. Does that mean I don’t have a clue? Of course not. I have done my research. I have interviewed others who’ve tried things, and I test things myself. I’m one of those millions (somewhere between 20-36 million) of registered users and have tried the platform. Have I learned something from the criticism? Yes, I did. I learned where I could better clarify what I was saying, so that is a positive spin on a negative post. So, thank you for the feedback and allowing me to improve my clarity on that point.
I think Dave Willis said it best when he said:
“Be an encourager. The world has plenty of critics already.”
If you are holding a nasty rejection letter in your hand, keep going back to Amazon to read that negative review, have had someone tell you you’ll never succeed, I want you to know that you can and will succeed. Take a step back and look at what is being said with impartial eyes.
Is there any merit to the criticism? In my case, I did believe I could be clearer on number of active users, but I still stand behind the overall article. If you can learn anything from the criticism you have in your hand (or on the computer screen), study it, apply it and move on.
I have heard of writers papering their office walls with rejection letters, then framing their book covers and placing them on the walls on top of the rejection letters. If you put yourself out there, you’re going to experience rejection. Study it, learn from it, don’t take it to heart and move on.
If you are writing books that people take the time to comment on, writing articles that posts are written about, then you can be sure that you’re either getting a lot of traffic or selling a lot of product/service. That means you should rejoice in the critics. They mean you are succeeding. No one criticizes you if you aren’t putting yourself out there. Yes, you can always learn and grow. No, you aren’t a failure. It does not define you as a person or even as a writer or business owner.
Have you had to deal with a nasty rejection or negative comments? Share your thoughts below.
Thanks to Netflix, I’ve now watched THE WEDDING SINGER about 10 times in a row. I’m not sure if it is my writer’s brain trying to deconstruct plots to movies, but if I like a movie, I will watch it over and over again. I can easily say I’ve watched movies like Dirty Dancing, Clueless, Return to Me, and The Wedding Singer hundreds of times.
Often, they are simply playing in the background as I write. However, they creep into my daily life and conversations. I actually told my daughter the other day that I was “audi” as I was leaving (from Clueless) and often use quotes from movies in everyday situations.
You can learn a lot from movies. I’ve learned from the Wedding Singer that life is a song. Whether you’re sad, momentarily insane, or happy, there is a song for that. Adam Sandler is an okay singer, but not a great singer, so I also learned to just sing and quit worrying about how you sound.
I learned from Mean Girls that big hair means big secrets. That you really just have to lose three pounds. And, that Aaron Samuels is not very bright if he believes the swim team is practicing in the projection room above the gymnasium. However, there are some great quotes from this movie that my daughters and I use often like “on Wednesdays we wear pink,” “that’s the rules of feminism,” and “she doesn’t even go here!”
From Dirty Dancing, I learned that nobody sits Baby in the corner and that if you want to fit in just carry a watermelon into the party. However, I also learned that if you try really hard you can learn anything and to learn from the best teachers you can find.
Return to Me is a great movie. It is probably my favorite. I learned from it that we sometimes wonder what God is thinking and that Italian and Irish food go well together. I also learned that if you think you have everything figured out, life will throw you a curve ball, but that twist can be wonderful in the end.
What is it that makes us watch some movies over and over? I’d like to take the time to figure it out, but I’m buggin’ cause 50 First Dates Just popped up on my Netflix feed, so I’m “Audi.”
Dear Readers,
I originally wrote the Elixir about two decades ago. It then sat on a shelf for ages before I decided to find a publisher for it. Unfortunately, while I’ve already been a believer and have been saved since I was 13 years old, I was an infant in Christ. I wasn’t always living my life for him the way I should have. While the original book was not horrible by any means, there was some cursing in it that I’m not proud of (nothing as bad as the F-bomb, but still). I also had written a couple of love scenes into the book, that while they were not graphic, I did not want in there any longer.
Keeping in mind that I have some younger readers and that I want my writing to be pleasing to my Lord, I decided to rewrite this book. I believe it is very PG now. There are no love scenes, the couple simply kisses and talks about taking their relationship from friendship to romance and if it is a good idea. The main focus is on unraveling the mystery and staying alive.
I also updated some things because the technology was older in the original and things change, such as USB drives verses disks. Anyway, I hope you love this book. As I edited it, I remembered how much I love the story of Celeste and Ben. They are very unique, very smart, and the type of people you want to hang out with for a while.
THE ELIXIR
by Lori Soard
The dark parking garage with the dead body of his friend and mentor only begins Jake Walker’s problems. Soon, he is the prime suspect in Benjamin Monroe’s murder and worried that his best friend, Ben’s daughter, will believe the worst.
Celeste doesn’t know who killed her father but she does know one thing—it wasn’t Jake. As she and Jake set out to find the killer, they discover that her father unlocked the code to a fountain of youth formula. Anyone who wanted the formula could have killed him, and it was worth millions.
During their investigation, they uncover more facts and more bodies. Because they show up at every crime scene, the detectives investigating the case suspect Celeste and Jake of murder. The two go on the run until they can clear their names. But, there are more sinister forces at work than either realizes, and the deception runs as deep as the national government…
Dear Readers,
I am thrilled to announce that Man of Means is now available. The paperback version can be ordered as of today (9/11/2015) and the ebook version is available on 9/14/2015.
If you are a Prime member or enrolled in Unlimited, you can download the Kindle version for free! Otherwise, it is only $3.99 for the ebook. You can pre-order it right now, too.
This book was previously released as Finding Ms. Right. However, I did do some updates to it as it had some outdated technology and a few things I wanted to fix. This is a sweet romantic comedy. You can read more on the Man of Means info page.
Cupid’s Quest is in final edits and my daughter is working on the book cover design. It will be released in the next few months on Amazon. Here is a sneak peak from a scene I just added. You’ve heard me talk about my character Libby Henderson before. she is a nut!
Here’s what Libby has been up to. First, she and some other nursing home residents were out joy riding in the nursing home van. The man driving hadn’t renewed his license for 15 years or more. So, they are at the police station because the officer wanted to call someone to come pick them up rather than allowing them to drive anymore. Here is what happens…
When Gracie and Sinclaire arrived at the police station, the front desk sergeant had his head in his hands and the office looked as though a nuclear holocaust had hit. Papers were slung from the desks angled behind the front reception area, one officer cowered on the floor behind his swivel chair and another cowered behind a copy machine.
Libby Hendersonende
stood in the center of the room, her cane raised to waist level. It was obvious she’d already swung the cane in a circle and knocked all the items off at least two desks. “Listen up, Roger, you either book me or let me go. I have rights.”
“My name is Eric,” the young officer said, a slight sheen of tears in his young eyes. He couldn’t be more than three days out of the police academy.
“Don’t I get a phone call, Roger?” Libby swung the cane in a semi-circle and Eric crouched behind the chair back.
“I am Officer Eric,” he said again.
“What did you say, Roger?”
As you can see, Libby is quite a character. She tries really hard to take over every scene that I write in this book. I think you’re going to come to love her as much as I do, though.
Short story by award-winning author Lori Soard. This little tale has a paranormal twist. It’s an odd story, but Lori hopes her readers will enjoy it.
Occasionally, I get inspired to write a short story or two. These stories are almost always a bit odd and don’t fit any particular genre. I’ve always just written them for my own enjoyment. Sometimes they touch on difficult issues, like this one does, but the end of this one becomes light and happy. I hope you enjoy this unusual little tale that is nothing like my books.
The dark shadows of the theater hid her split lip and blackened eyes. Tess Harris slouched down in her seat. Her body ached from bruises hidden under her clothing. Elvis’ timeless image flickered across the screen as he crooned a song to Ann-Margret. Tess sighed. There were only three hours remaining in the all day Elvis Presley Movie Festival. Three hours left before she’d be forced to find a new hiding place.
“I can’t go home,” she whispered to the near empty cinema. A lone couple sat in the front of the room, exchanging kisses from time to time. What did it feel like to be loved? To experience affection instead of abuse? She sure wouldn’t know.
Yesterday evening she’d thought she could end their marriage. She’d packed Vince’s bags and braced herself for his arrival. She’d thought she could make him leave, until he’d walked in the front door of the small ranch house her parents left her when they died.
“I ain’t going nowhere.” His voice took on the low rumble of an angry bear and his eyes flickered with the veil of anger she’d come to expect from him.
“Just go, Vince.” Her voice caught and she made the mistake of showing weakness. She stammered. “I-I d-don’t love you anymore.”
“You think you can get rid of me that easy?” He took a step closer. “You are stuck with me until the day you die. How long you live is up to you.”
She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. There was now more at stake than the bruises she’d suffered for over a year. A child grew within her and she refused to let Vince continue to beat her and probably the child. No. It was over.
“I’ll kill you and that little brat you’re carrying if you try to leave.” Vince’s hand rose. His lips twisted into a crooked snarl when she flinched. The backhanded blow forced her head to the side. She ran her tongue over her lip, feeling the metallic tang of blood. It was a familiar friend.
Fear coiled through her as he swung his arm back, his gaze fixed on her midriff. Oh, God, he’s going to kill my baby. Please help me. She dropped to her knees and the blow landed between her eyes.
“I didn’t mean it, Vince. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt our baby. Please.” She bowed her head, knowing that to look at him would invite more blows. How she hated to stoop before his cruelty. But she wanted this child. Needed this child. Longed for someone to love and nurture.
He brought his fist down on the top of her bent head. Tears sprang to her eyes. She bit her tender lip to keep from crying out and smelled the scent of her own blood mixed with fear.
“Unpack my bags,” Vince said.
She nodded and unpacked his bags, knowing the second he passed out she’d leave her childhood home and never return.
Elvis’ velvety voice brought Tess back to the now deserted theater. If only she could find a man like the fictional Lucky Jackson on the screen.
“If only,” she whispered to the faded drapes of the century old building.
The sound faded out for a moment and then came back louder than before. She rubbed her ears. The clickity clack of the movie projector seemed amplified as the sound faded out again. She turned and stared at the flickering light in the box high above her head. Perhaps it was overheated from the many hours of use.
“Hello?” she called as the image on the screen flickered.
“Hello.” The voice came from the front of the theatre.
She whipped around, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn’t see anyone.
“Who’s there?”
No one answered. She stood and edged her way to the aisle, keeping her back against the half wall at the side of the upper section, she crept toward the exit. Was it Vince? Perhaps he’d found her. Should she scream? She cleared her throat. She couldn’t let him harm their baby.
“Is someone there?” Elvis’ image wavered on the screen and then moved closer as though he peered through a telescope.
Tess shook her head. She’d finally lost it. The blow that Vince had dealt to the top of her head must have knocked her brain loose because Elvis could NOT be looking through a movie screen at her. Could he? Of course he couldn’t!
Deep, hypnotic eyes peered down at her. A slow, cocky smile tilted the corners of his mouth and he reached a hand forward and out into the theatre. She took a few steps closer to the screen, watching out of the corner of her eye, expecting Vince to pounce at any moment. Her hand protected her stomach.
“Well, Tess, you’ve finally lost it. You won’t have to worry about where to go because you’ll have a permanent bed at the funny farm.”
“This is insane,” the character Lucky said.
Or was it Elvis? Did she care? Could she escape into the movie screen? If only…
Did she want to? She glanced behind her. The light flickered eerily from the projection room. It wasn’t as if she had anything to lose. They lived in a small town and Vince would find her eventually if she didn’t leave. He’d managed to tie up all her money. She couldn’t even scrape enough together to purchase a bus ticket. She’d looked for women’s shelters in the phone book but hadn’t found any listed. If they’d lived in a big city, she probably could have found help. Henryville sat on the edge of sleepy burb where men didn’t beat there wives and if they did the residents didn’t want to know anything about it.
“I must be dreaming.”
“Me too.” Lucky stretched his hand out.
If she was dreaming, she might as well make it a good dream. She placed her hand in his. His palm felt warm and slightly damp. She started to pull away, shocked at how real he felt. She could smell the tang of citrus cologne and his eyes drowned her.
“Tess!” Vince’s voice shouted as though at the end of a long tunnel.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw him running toward her, rage and confusion etched on his handsome face. Elvis/Lucky stared at him and then pulled her into the screen. Oh, yes. This was some dream. She only hoped she dreamed Vince too because what he’d do to her and the baby froze her blood.
“Who was that man?”
“My boyfriend.”
Lucky took a step back and Tess immediately felt a chill in the air where warmth had been.
“How did I get here?” Any moment she’d wake up. She glanced around and found she was in the same theatre. She hoped her baby didn’t inherit her insane gene. The faded drapes were now a brilliant, deep red.
“You were in the movie.” Lucky pointed to the screen. “And you looked at me and held your hand out. It was the strangest…”
“Dream?” But it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt all too real. She clasped her arms around her midriff. Too real. Where would she go? She faced the same problem except maybe she wouldn’t have to deal with Vince. She’d be safe. The baby’d be safe. How could two people have the same dream? Of course she was dreaming Lucky so maybe he hadn’t dreamt at all. Confusion fogged her brain.
“You aren’t Elvis?”
“Who?”
Oh now, c’mon. She knew it was a dream now. EVERYONE knew who Elvis was.
Unless..unless she’d been transported into a strange new world where Elvis didn’t exist? Didn’t sound like much of a world to her.
“Is this a movie festival?” she asked.
“Sure. I was watching a Jesse Presley film. Viva Indy 500.”
Tess laughed. She couldn’t help it. She’d finally gone insane, so she was allowed to laugh like a hysterical maniac. In her pretend world, things were apparently turned upside down. Elvis’ twin had his fame and the movies were different than in her world. Yes, she’d finally gone off the deep end. But perhaps she’d be better off. Crazy people didn’t worry about where they would live, they went to the asylum.
“Hey, are you okay?” Lucky gave her shoulder a gentle shake. Amazing how real a hallucination could feel.
She took a step back and stubbed her toe against the edge of a seat. Ouch! She didn’t remember ever feeling such intense pain in a dream before. Because it wasn’t a dream. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t a hallucination. Did people feel pain when they had delusions? She didn’t think so. But she could be wrong. What if this were real? What if she had truly stepped into another world? Her pulse skipped giddily at the thought.
“Tess!” The sound in the theatre surrounded them.
Vince’s snarling features stared at her from the movie screen. He stared upwards, his forehead knitted into a frown. But he wasn’t looking directly at them. He apparently couldn’t see them.
“Your boyfriend?”
She nodded.
“He looks mean.”
“He is mean.” She shivered. “I can’t go back.” Whether it was back to sanity or back to another world, she didn’t care. She couldn’t go back and face Vince and his anger. He was a dangerous man.
“Then you won’t.” Lucky held out his hand. “Lucky Jackson. You may have heard of me? I’m a race car driver.”
“Yes, I know. I mean, I have heard of you.” As a fictional character. A fictional character who felt blazingly real.
“Tess.” Vince’s voice grew weaker.
She smiled as the image flickered and faded into a movie starring a Jesse Presley who looked identical to Elvis. The clear perfection of his voice rang out across the theater as he sang “Viva Indy 500.”
“I have a feeling I just escaped my boyfriend.”
“I have a feeling we’d better not tell people exactly how we met or we’ll both wind up in the mad house.” He leaned forward and his breath brushed across her temple.
She closed her eyes. How she wanted to believe there could be a happily ever after for her and the baby. The baby!
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted.
His dark eyes widened and then he smiled. “I can’t have children but want a family.”
“Aren’t we the perfect couple? It’s almost as though we’re in a fairy tale.” Or a movie.
They left the theatre arm in arm. The sunset disappeared upwards into the sky and the crickets croaked instead of singing but Tess didn’t care. She and Lucky already had their lives scripted out and their ending would always be happy.
The current book I’m working on is tentatively titled Cupid’s Quest. It is filled with a cast of characters who should make you laugh, make you cry and make you fall in love all over again. The book will be available in early 2015. The heroine in this book is Gracie. Learn a little more about her by reading the mock interview below.
What do you do for a living, Gracie?
I run a retirement home that my parents started. The residents are like my family. I grew up in this place and I can’t imagine doing anything else. They have my heart.
What is your favorite color?
I love the color blue.
What is your saddest moment?
Losing both of my parents. There is nothing harder than being alone in the world. Even though I have the residents as companions, they aren’t my parents and I miss belonging somewhere in the world.
What is your happiest moment?
Mrs. Kelly is a lot of fun. She is a senior citizen but in her mind she is perpetually 17. Recently, I took her to the doctor and ran into an old high school crush. She flirted shamelessly with him. It was pretty funny and he handled it better than most men do.
What is your biggest challenge?
Saving the nursing home. We’re in financial trouble. These people are the only family I have left and if the home shuts down, I don’t know where some of them will go. I don’t know where I’ll go or what I’ll do.
Talk around town is that you have a date…
Yes, with that high school crush I was talking about, Brandt. We’ll see where it goes…