This and That

Huge Holiday giveaway

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Hey, everyone, I’ve joined with a great group of authors to bring you an exciting Christmas giveaway! Okay, it may seem a little early, but the holidays will be here before you know it. And it’s always a good time to find some new reading material for those cool days when you just want to curl up with your favorite beverage and a good book!
This promotion gives you dozens of chances to win books, gift cards, swag and cash prizes! Not only could you win some great stuff, you just might discover your new favorite author!

Enter today, and happy reading to all!

Throwback Thursday, literary style . . .

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P1050882For a throwback today, I thought I’d offer a little snippet from my first novel, Unexpected Legacy. It’s one of my favorite scenes between the hero, Matt, and heroine, Kate, and it just happens to occur in a pumpkin patch shortly before Halloween. Unexpected Legacy is fiction with romantic elements. It’s about a dad who meets his son for the first time when the boy is sixteen years old and recovering from a serious car accident. Kate is the high school principal who steps in to help the kid, but with a different agenda than his father. 🙂

Matt caught up to her, and rested his arms against the fence.
“Let me guess,” he said. “You’ve loved horses since you were a little girl.”
She leaned against the fence, pushing back a strand of hair that had come loose. “Is something wrong with that?”
“Not at all, but I’m intrigued. I think I’ve stumbled across a soft spot. You put on a tough front in your profession, but your home is full of soft things, and you like ponies.”
“Excuse me, are you a psychiatrist?”
“Hell, no,” he laughed. “I’m just making this up. Basically, it means you’re such a girl.”
She laughed then, and smacked his arm. When she tossed her head back, Matt reached out and pushed the loose strand of hair behind her ear again. His hand lingered near her face, while his thumb skimmed her cheek.
And in the next instant his lips brushed against hers.
Maybe it was the warm rays of sunshine surrounding them, or the light smoldering in Matt’s eyes. Maybe it was purely Matt Dalton’s sensuality that sent liquid heat surging through her veins. She felt deliciously enveloped in warmth.
So when he pulled her against him, she lifted her face, welcoming his kiss. His arms went around her, pressing her closer, and she melted against him. He murmured her name, and her heart pounded as a wave of desire washed over her.
Kate clutched the taut muscles of Matt’s arm with one hand, while the other one curved around his neck and wound into his thick, coarse hair. His hands splayed across her back, sending shivers rocketing up her spine.
When his lips trailed kisses behind her ear and down her neck, she moaned softly, lost in his arms. When Matt shifted, his arousal, hard against her hip, jolted Kate back to reality. She drew back and turned, leaning against the fence.
One of the horses nuzzled up to her. Breathing in light gasps, she held out a shaky hand, grateful for the diversion. She couldn’t look at Matt. Kate knew she was playing with fire. She shouldn’t have come. She thought she could get past her attraction to him and simply enjoy the day, but when he touched her, her body had a will of its own.
“I’ll get these loaded up,” Matt said finally. His voice sounded strained, and she looked up quickly. He gave her shoulder a soft squeeze, then turned toward the wagon.
She followed behind while he wrestled with keeping the wagon upright in the uneven dirt and ruts. When they reached the tent near the entrance, Matt pulled out his wallet.
“Oh, Matt. No. I’m getting these,” she said, fumbling for her purse.
“Kate,” he said, his voice brooking no opposition. “Go pick out a couple of mums.” He nodded toward a grassy area to the side with a display of colorful mums in varying stages of bloom.
Swallowing hard, she turned and marched across the lot. The man had a bit of a bossy streak. Hardly even looking at them, she picked up the two closest purple mums and headed back toward the tent, until she realized Matt was already loading pumpkins into his car. He motioned to her, and before she made it halfway, he was at her side, taking the mums. She whispered a thank-you and hurried toward the car.
Kate sensed the electricity in the car as she sat with her hands in her lap, staring out the window. When he pulled into a parking lot, she turned and looked at him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m buying you lunch, of course.”
Oh. Right. Still processing her emotions, she’d forgotten about lunch.
“Matt, maybe we should just head back,” Kate said softly, not meeting his eyes.
“Kate. Come on. It’s almost one. I promised you lunch, and I’m starving. I know you must be, too.” He opened his car door, leaving her little choice but to do the same. He waited for her to round the car, then ushered her up the stairs of an old Victorian farmhouse.
Snap out of it, Kate told herself. Great blazes, it was one little kiss. She stepped onto the porch determined to be cool and collected. Taking a deep breath, she looked around at the stately old home.
“This is a clubhouse?” she asked.
“No. I thought you might like this better. My mom and sister love it.”
“Oh. It’s really cool.” It was absolutely gorgeous. With massive pots of flowers and cushioned wicker furniture, it looked like something from a magazine. The tranquility of the place went a long way toward restoring Kate’s equilibrium.
A hostess appeared. “Terrace this afternoon, folks?”
Kate couldn’t help but smile up at Matt. “Would that be okay with you?”
“Of course.”
Kate nodded to the hostess, and she led them to a table outside with a view of a small pond and lovely gardens. “Wow,” she breathed. “It’s incredible.” She picked up the menu and read the brief history of the Mansion. “Oh, I think I’ve heard of this place.”
“Glad you like it,” Matt said.
Kate’s heart sank at the stilted, formal tone to Matt’s words. How could they recapture the easy mood of this morning?
She ordered a salad and iced tea, glad to have the beautiful scenery to look at and take her mind off of . . . other things.
“Kate, I–”
She held up her hand and gave him a shaky smile.
“Matt, please. That shouldn’t have happened, and I shouldn’t have let it. Why don’t we just let it go, and enjoy the rest of the day, all right? I’ve had a lot of fun. You were right. I needed a day away.”
She didn’t add that she’d actually enjoyed it a little too much.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. His gaze met hers, and slowly he nodded. “Okay, we let it go today, but Kate?”
She caught her breath, held captive by the intensity in Matt’s eyes.
“This conversation isn’t over.”
The ride back was quiet. Once, he reached out for her hand. He squeezed it gently then caressed the top of it with his thumb. The soft movement sent shivers up her arm. Kate kept her hand where it was, but she ached inside. She couldn’t help but feel cheated – here was a really great guy whom she liked and was attracted to, but he was off limits. It wasn’t fair.
For her, this was a fairy tale day. It couldn’t be real. She was like Cinderella, and Matt her handsome prince – only there was no ball, and no glass slipper. When the clock struck midnight tonight, she’d be left with nothing but pumpkins. And no fairy-tale ending.

Unexpected Legacy on Amazon

Speaking of throwbacks, do you have any books so near and dear to your heart that you occasionally re-read them? I have a couple of oldies but goodies that I enjoy re-reading. In romance, two of my faves are Paradise by Judith McNaught, and Montana Sky by Nora Roberts. And yours?

Sometimes you just can’t force it

darlenedeluca A Writer's Life, Home & Family, This and That

CSAZCgNWcAAZdCxI see this meme or some variation of it posted a lot: children become readers on the laps of their parents, or children who are read to become lifelong readers. And I’m always tempted to like and repost and say “yeah!”
But then I remember, there’s no guarantee. I wish I had hard and fast scientific data. I don’t. But I do have two children. One girl, one boy. One a reader, one not. I read (or attempted to) to each of them when they were little. So why did one become a lifelong reader, and the other have absolutely no interest?

Despite my repeated efforts – years of efforts – my son is not a reader. The little book pictured here is one of our very earliest attempts. You can see that it is well-worn. Looks well-loved, right? It did, actually, become a favorite chew toy. :-/ P1050866

There were a couple of glimmers of hope through the years. He seemed to enjoy Captain Underpants. Yay, boy humor. OK, I could roll with that. We bought the entire series, and he even dragged them around when we went out to eat or to an appointment. A few years later, I was again encouraged when he discovered Lemony Snicket and the Series of Unfortunate Events. But that was about it. From then on, I don’t think he read many other books except those that were required in school.

We subscribed to Time magazine and National Geographic and Sports Illustrated for Teens, and I hoped the shorter non-fiction might appeal to him. Mmm, not so much. When he was in high school, I tried to read the required books, too, so that I could talk to him about them and make sure he was understanding and processing them. He was. It wasn’t that he couldn’t read. He simply didn’t enjoy it. Unlike my daughter, my son did not entertain himself for hours lost in imaginary play. He didn’t work puzzles and create elaborate set-ups with Legos or Playmobile sets the way my daughter did.

For a reader/writer mom, this is hard. I can gnash my teeth and lament, “where did I go wrong?” But the fact is, it was out of my control. He needed more action, more stimulation. In grade school and middle school he played soccer and tennis and baseball and basketball. His dad tried to get him to play golf, and that didn’t work out. Too slow for this kid. He played soccer and tennis into high school, and plays tennis in college. Lots of action, constant running and movement. We joke about whether he’s ever stepped foot inside the campus library, or could even identify the building (he can). And, yes, he can read and write, but it’s not his personality to sit and read for enjoyment. Not his thing. Never has been.
His dad isn’t a reader, either. So, I’m thinking maybe it’s genetic. He just didn’t get the reading gene!

What’s the ‘right’ way?

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P1050861So here’s my pet peeve – I mean public service offering – for the day. As a writer with a degree in journalism, I do some kind of auto-cringe thing when I see misspelled words and incorrect word usage (as in your when it should be you’re or it’s when it should be its) in a written piece that’s being distributed in public. I can’t help it. When I was in J-school, the Associated Press Stylebook was The Bible. We studied it, memorized it, lived by it.
As an author, I still use it today. Of course I still have my trusty Webster’s dictionary, and Strunk & White’s Elements of Style, along with a smattering of other editing books and style guides.
Mistakes happen. We all know that. And they are a hundred percent easier to spot once they’re distributed, or in print. That’s a given.

My issue today is the fierceness with which some people cling to an incorrect usage. It’s as if they’ve seen something spelled incorrectly (think alot) for so long, that they bought into it, and now insist that it become a legitimate “form” of the word!
I recently offered a polite correction on a Facebook feed because I genuinely do want to help other writers when I can. Well, let’s just say my efforts weren’t appreciated.

But for the record, here’s how you spell that word that starts with an A when you want to thank or acknowledge the people who helped you with your book:
Acknowledgments
There’s no E after the G. I double-checked the AP Stylebook. Now some dictionaries may have acquiesced to the “other acceptable forms” concept, but I also went and looked inside several books on my shelves published by famous authors. Guess what? Anthony Doerr, Nora Roberts, John Irving, Barbara Kingsolver, Jodi Picoult, Jan Karon, Rebecca Wells, Nora Ephron, and more all spell acknowledgments the same way – without the extra E.
Perhaps acknowledgments is the preferred way of spelling the word.
Just a friendly FYI! 🙂

Happy reading and writing!

A Mouse in the House . . .

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P1050758
Treasures!

Sometimes you just need a mouse in the house. Well, we got one – or five! Ugh. I do not like having a mouse in the house, in my kitchen cabinets and drawers. It’s rather disgusting, really. We put up with it for several days, with half the drawers strewn about the house. But after multiple trips to the hardware store for traps, foam sealant and shelf-liner, we think we got ’em!
And now, I’m happy to report, every inch of every cabinet, drawer, surface, corner, etc. is spotlessly scrubbed and sanitized! Every dish, cup, pot, vase, basket and utensil also is disinfected and clean. Yeah, I’d say this is the cleanest our kitchen has been in, oh, a decade or so! And it’s so neat and tidy – everything in its place.
The good thing is it forced us to deal with a long over-due project. The bad thing is it required a week of dealing with the critters and stepping around drawers. And it consumed a full day of our three-day weekend – truly a “labor” day! The clearing and cleaning was time consuming enough, but then there was the decision making, the long game of Trash or Treasure. What’s this? Is there a lid to this? Have we used this in the last ten years? Will the kids miss this? Will we ever use this again? Do we need ten of these plastic cups from every walk/run/party/event?
We had to decide if we could part with the last remaining baby bottle tucked in the deepest corner of the cabinet. Well, let’s see, the youngest kid is 19. We just took him to college. Memorabilia? Hmm, perhaps. Would keeping it be gross at this point? Maybe. Oh, but what about the Hello Kitty plastic sandwich holder? Hey, now that might actually be cool again. That one went into the box to be delivered, someday, to our daughter . . . along with the Shamu visitor’s cups. I believe we also did retain the Anakin Skywalker cup with bulbous podracer lid.
When all was done, we ended up with an exciting amount of additional shelf space! And three boxes. One we’ve dubbed “apartment living” that’s full of various useful and appropriate items for kids living in that awkward apartment stage. One is full of giveaway goodies including sets of matching mugs along with a variety of still functional items that we envision some child happily giving his or her mother this Christmas. The last box does, indeed, hold items of memorabilia . . . little forks and spoons, mugs lovingly painted by small kindergarten hands, water bottles, cups and glassware from vacations and events that the kids will most likely pitch one day when they go through the box and ask, What’s this? Who made this? Will I ever use this again? 🙂

Next up . . . the attic? Basement? Oh, wait, I have books to write. So I’ll ignore those nooks and crannies a while longer, or at least until there’s another mouse in the house!

What was Lost is Found Again

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P1020585Oh, the little things . . . just back from a week in Colorado, and I’m so happy to have all of my personal belongings.
See, I had a couple brain cramps and missing items – which is definitely out of character for me. I’m usually very organized, and not only do I keep track of my own stuff, I pretty much do the same for the rest of the fam.
So, egads, in one trip I lost my good sunglasses and my car key, neither of which are cheap items to replace. And replacing the key would be a pain. (The friend I was with when I purchased the sunglasses would probably say the same for choosing a new pair!)

As we were on our way down the beautiful Eleven-Mile Canyon near Florrisant, Colo., I suddenly realized I didn’t have the glasses. We’d just spent more than an hour meandering up the canyon, stopping along the way to take pictures, look at the creek, explore nature, etc. After searching purse, backpack, car, bags, we determined that I must have dropped them somewhere along the way. Great. How to trace our steps and stop at all the same pull-offs, find the same rocks and scenic spots we’d been to? I was feeling pretty annoyed and not terribly bright, but as luck would have it, my husband was able to look back through the photos he’d taken and determine approximately when I’d last had them. Believe it or not, we actually found the stop, and the rock that my daughter and I had earlier perched on. There, indeed, were my glasses, just hanging out on the rock! Note to self: keep track of your stuff!

Fast forward a few days. My car key goes missing – a day and a half after I’d last driven. OMG. Trying to figure out when I’d last had them, and all the places I could’ve dropped them or left them was ridiculous. I called restaurants and stores, tore through the house and car, dumped my purse, computer bag and backpack more than once, and still did not come up with the key. By now, I’m feeling like I must be in the early stages of dementia, Alzheimer’s or some such degenerative disease. This was not like me. So I spend a couple of days fuming and fretting. The last two times I’d been to Colorado, I ended up having to replace the windshield on my car after a rock popped up and cracked it. Was I destined to have a car-related expense on every trip?

The morning we left, I’m feeling around in my purse for the house key, and realize there’s a small hole in the side of the pocket where I kept the key. I figured I must have poked at it so many times in my hunting, that I’d caused a rip in the fabric. In the car a few hours later, it hits me. If the tear had been there before, could my key with fob and keychain have worked themselves through that hole? If so, the key would not drop into the purse, but in between the purse and the lining. Would I not have heard or felt them? No, indeed. We stopped for a fast-food lunch, and as soon as I could, I wiggled my fingers down between the purse and lining. Sure enough, there was the key. Whew! Not only was I relieved to have the key back, I salvaged my reputation, and could put to rest fears of senility! (Sincere apologies to all the people I had hunting for that dang key!) Very glad to not have to add getting a replacement to my list of post-vacation tasks! 🙂

A rainbow of roses

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sb2015_198I don’t consciously try to put something about myself in my books, but in my upcoming contemporary romance release, Her Greatest Risk, the heroine does share my taste in roses – yellow is our fave.

Yellow happens to be my favorite color, so I suppose that I like yellow roses is no surprise. To me, they are the cheeriest of roses – and flowers in general. Summer is my favorite season. I love bright, sunny days. And yellow is the color of sunshine! (Yeah, I think there’s a pattern.)

When I decided that Jennifer should prefer yellow roses also, it got me to thinking about the official “meaning” of various rose colors, so I did a little research. Compiled from a number of online sources, the general consensus seems to be:

Red: love, romance
Yellow: friendship, delight
Light pink: grace, warmth, appreciation
Bright pink: gratitude, admiration
Peach: cheer, modesty
Lavender: enchantment, splendor, love at first sight
White: purity, honor, everlasting love, sympathy
Orange: passion, pride, enthusiasm

Peach comes in a close second in my line-up, but I have to say, I wouldn’t object to receiving roses in any of these lovely colors! 🙂

Images to Tell Your Story

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pinterest-icon-logo-D4965B6748-seeklogo.comSo, I’m pinning now. You know what pinning is, yes? It’s right up there with texting and googling – new words for new phenomena of our time. I resisted Pinterest for a couple of years because I knew it would suck me in. And it has.
Can’t say I understand it all yet – why some pins have conversations and comments, why you can message some people and not others, how some boards become ‘community’ boards, etc. But I’m plodding along, discovering as I go.

So far, I’ve managed to set up 27 boards in just a week or so. The more I peruse the site, the more potential boards I think of. Have to say it feels a little narcissistic – lots of people have boards titled ‘My Style,’ ‘My Wishlist,’ ‘My Funny Bone,’ etc. – and that’s part of the fun. It’s your personal catalog, a picture book all about you and what you like! It’s a library and a shelving system and a cyber file cabinet. Kind of cool, actually. For me, it’s a little bit marketing, a little bit catalog shopping, and just plain fun.

I’m finding the site inspirational from a writing standpoint. Not just for ‘words of wisdom’ but for potential book settings and architectural features, details that I might want to weave into a setting or character description sometime. I’m also finding ways to visualize my books. I’ve found images for Dana’s lost ring, and Megan’s farmhouse, and Claire’s lemon bar recipe. I’m hoping these boards will give readers a little more insight into my books’ settings and characters – to really bring them to life, and perhaps spark more interest in them.

Too early to tell whether it will ever translate to additional book sales, but I’m connecting with people – like-minded people who love books, and bookish things, who enjoy a good cup of tea and many other things I do, including decorating sugar cookies. (Boy, has the site raised the bar on that one for me!) People who I’ve never met are liking and re-pinning my pins – people who before had probably never heard of author Darlene Deluca. And that’s a good thing.

Come join me!

Find me on Pinterest

Feeling the love

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P1030093Over the weekend I had the joy of celebrating my son’s 19th birthday. Today, I’m taking dinner to the family of a two-year-old boy who’s battling leukemia. It’s a hard thing to get my head around. And I’m feeling so many emotions – most of all I’m so grateful for a strong, healthy kid. I’m also grateful for the love, kindness and encouragement that little boy’s mom showered on my son thirteen years ago. You see, she was my son’s first grade teacher.
I imagine everyone remembers, and hopefully loved, their first grade teacher. I remember mine with fondness. First grade was the first year my son was away from me all day five days a week. Kindergarten was a half day, and preschool was only three days a week. This was a kid who I had to pry off of my legs when he was in preschool. He’d cling and cry for me not to leave him. This, of course, was traumatic for both of us.
So first grade was significant. And having a fun, caring teacher who connected and bonded with my son was a huge relief. He had a great year, and we’ve remained friends with this special teacher. Now she has a son of her own. I can only imagine the fear and sadness she’s feeling as her precious boy undergoes painful, unpleasant procedures, in and out of the hospital, being poked and examined. Such hard things for a mom to watch.
I want to help, but there is so little I can do. So I offer small gestures and acts of kindness, and big prayers for healing for this adorable kid who always has a smile on his face, and is so very loved and cherished by his family.

Darlene

Fund Tyler

At the Scene of the Crime

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money bagThe other day there was a thread going around on Facebook that asked authors to share a unique event in their life, some little tidbit that had happened to them that was noteworthy and out of the ordinary. Well, I lead a rather ordinary life that goes along in a pretty normal trajectory. I couldn’t think of anything to add offhand, so I moved on.
But yesterday I was in the bank conducting several transactions, and recalled that a couple of years ago in that same bank, I was part of a real live robbery! Ha! Surely that’s pretty unusual. Have you ever been in a bank robbery?

It was an interesting experience. I was sitting at a desk getting some papers notarized so that my son could participate in some trip or activity. I saw the guy enter the bank, and I remember noticing him and thinking, “why is he wearing that heavy coat?” It was a mild day that only called for a light jacket – not a bulky winter coat. Well, I didn’t jump to the conclusion that he must be a robber hiding a gun under that coat. I mean, really, who does that? Here I was in the small branch location of my local bank in my safe little suburb.
So the guy walks up to the teller, and at this point his back is to me, but I swing around and look when he starts barking at the teller. Clearly he has an issue. Did I think, uh-oh, this guy is a robber, this guy is pointing a gun at the teller? No, indeed. I’m sitting there thinking, “what is this guy’s problem?”!!

I exchange a what-the-heck glance with the gal helping me, but we continue with our business transaction. A couple of minutes later, the guy looks around. Yes, makes eye contact with us, then moseys on out the door. At this point, the bank employee in the next office leaps from her chair, dashes across the lobby and locks the doors, then breathlessly exclaims, “we’ve been robbed!”
Um, yeah, a little light bulb suddenly flashes in my head. Yikes! I’d just witnessed a bank robbery – could potentially have been in danger had things gone badly. I’d seen the clues, but failed to make the connection. As it happens, I was the only customer in the bank at the time.
Here’s a little fact I didn’t know about a robbery: No one can leave the scene until the FBI arrive. Yep, I was trapped in the bank. Why? Because I could have been an accomplice in there as a ploy to distract the bank personnel during the heist. Really.

So, they close everything down, call the police, and the FBI, and the main branch, and in only a few minutes, the place is swarming with people. Have to say it was a little spooky to be questioned by the police and FBI agents. And what was really interesting was trying to recall all the details about the guy and what had happened. It’s amazing what can escape you when you aren’t consciously paying attention. I gave my statement, and after about forty minutes was allowed to leave, luckily still in time to pick the kid up from school. Of course I repeated the story multiple times that day, as others were in awe. My son’s friends were particularly keen to hear the details. For a bit, I was practically a celebrity! 🙂 And I think I’ll be forever known at the bank – the customer who witnessed the robbery!