WIP Part II: The Light Attendant and the Bluebird

After a couple of passes through our editing team, I am thrilled to be working on the final draft of my upcoming historical romance novel: The Light Attendant and the Bluebird.

Set in World War I, The Light Attendant and The Bluebird tells the story of Private Henry Ryzack who battles not only the Germans, but also his own personal vices and demons on the battlefields of France as he struggles to keep promises made and become a man worthy of Nursing Sister, Abbigail Grieves.

I am very excited to share this story with you. So eager, in fact, that I cannot help but give you a “sneak peek” into the first two chapters of the novel.

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Cats and Dogs – and a bird.

Ordinarily we focus on our creative endeavours in our blogs, but this story was too good not to share.

Our pup is almost 15 months old. She has been a wonderful addition to our family, being very sociable and eager to please. She appears to want nothing more than to be by our side as we go about our day, sharing our activities and our moods.

A cup of water at the coffee shop.

Given our pup’s gentle nature, we were not surprised when she became friends with a stray cat that took up residence under our front porch. Feeling a responsibility for the cat, we took it in only to find ourselves with an additional four kittens when the mother cat gave birth a couple of months later.

Our dog was immediately taken with the kittens, watching them through the days and nights and helping clean them. She would grow anxious when Mama cat absented herself from the nest for any length of time.

As the kittens grew, our pup became an active participant in their playtime.

Continue reading “Cats and Dogs – and a bird.”

Tomorrow

Harvey Nelson awoke like he was surfacing from a deep plunge in cold water. His eyes snapped open and he drew in a sharp breath. He half-rose out of bed, only to relax again, sinking back into the sober white sheets of his sister’s guest bed.

Harvey took another breath, this time letting it out slowly, and stared up at the ceiling tiles of the basement bedroom tying to decode the Rorschach design created by the brown water stains. Dusty grey light filtered in through the small, filmy window, barely disturbing the darkness that lingered in the corners of the room. The only items in the room aside from the metal bed, an ancient, chipped dresser, and a bedside table (equally old), were a few boxes filled with clothes and personal items. The boxes lay scattered about the room, one or two spewing their contents across the floor. Aside from these things, the room was bare.

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