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Misty mornings. A historic rainy spring. Our sylvan retreat has turned into rich shades of green with mist hovering over pastures once home to graceful horses--a field of dreams now for wild deer and turkeys. Choirs of birds and squirrels practice aerial feats in century trees that shade perennial carpets of fern and flora.
Inspiration begins here, writing where my heart takes me, from Minnesota to Wyoming to Ireland, and back without leaving my computer --or the sofa.
Writing breaks come when the sun shines in our rainforest and I take a break to relax and teach our rescued furbaby, Sophie, how to be a dog. Nearly finished now with book #3 in Jessica's Time Travel Trilogy, I give you a bonus peek at Chapter One of The Accidental Heiress in this newsletter. (Remember Miracle on the Hudson?) More excerpts to come in my next newsletter, I promise!
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Granddaughter Zoey helps wean me & Sophie, the Sofa Dog off our favorite landing base.
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A New Look in my newsletter AND website is comparable to a wardrobe change. Does it make me look FAT or FIT? More current? You may have noticed I missed two months of newsletters. Excuses fly like biting insects in the rainforest that surrounds us after record breaking Midwest precip for a year now. After also missing four (self-imposed) deadlines for completing the trilogy, I decided multi-tasking has left my wheelhouse. With an empty nest…and barn, I should have NO excuses for NOT writing.
Still, I came up with a few: Jet lag from armchair transportation to Ireland and back, and little daily respite from Breaking News and Historical Crisis. Heeding some solid advice from other depressed authors, I decided to limit the TV trauma and PRIORITIZE! Hence, newsletters will be reduced to 4-6 a year, concentrating on book progress, a recipe or note about the handicapped dog and wildlife I feed, and the AMAZING readers and writers I love to showcase--all unique because each one is actually able to multi-task & still give something of value to others. Whew, I feel thin already!
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The Accidental Heiress
Chapter One Excerpt--"Is this Normal?"
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Damn! Something was off. I checked my watch again. Thirty minutes circling the airport? Thirty? We were still crossing the channel when flight attendants had prepared us for landing, seatbelts engaged, plastic cups collected, trays up. The eager buzz of anticipation had dissolved into the steady drone of engines. Peeking over the rows ahead of me, I searched for any movement in the galley. Wasn’t it customary for the pilot or an attendant to welcome us to the country, or even announce the current land temperature on the PA system? It had been cool and cloudy when we left Heathrow.
Robbie twisted in the window seat to nudge me. “That must be the Shannon River,” he pointed. “A spit of a stream from this height.” I grasped his hand and leaned into the view. A gold ribbon of water with shimmering pool pockets surrounded irregular patches of green. When the wing dipped, scattered off shore dwellings popped into view. Tiny houses on a giant monopoly board. Sparkles and shimmers bubbled everywhere. Yes! We had sun over Ireland.
Mrs. Donnelly tapped my right arm. “Dearie, could you give Digby a look? He likes to get his bearings when we near the auld sod.” Her strange little dog was linked to her wrist by a chain just long enough to transport it from lap to lap to the thick glass window. Robbie gave me a look and made a guttural sound when the dog smeared the glass with his long tongue, then attempted a second swipe on Robbie’s hand. On Aer Lingus, the economy plane was just wide enough for three seats on either side of the aisle. Since Mrs. Donnelly boarded the plane in London with her service dog and white cane, she controlled my right ear with a stream-of-conscious review of a poor widow’s life and how Digby became her eyes and ears, when both went “fuzzy as mold on cabbage.” She was certain this was her last trip back to her homeland, to visit an old Irish friend.
“Joseph is emerging from his troubles.”
“His troubles?”
“His dear wife passed last year and he lost his position to the scourge.”
“The scourge?”
“The Irish scourge, dearie.” She cleared her throat. “Not heard of it?”
I shook my head, wondering if this was some kind of ethnic pandemic. Robbie had told me all about the Great Hunger that had claimed half the population of Ireland in the 19th century and how common it was for those who survived to eventually succumb to cholera. But this was the 21st century. Modern medicine controlled old, and even new outbreaks of disease—almost worldwide.
She wrinkled her nose. “The scourge has two faces, dearie; a lovely export for those who can temper it, and hell on earth for those who can’t.” With a deft charade, she cupped her hand around an invisible glass and pretended to drink as she wobbled her head.
I wondered if she could still see well enough to read my smirk. When the plane dipped into another circle, we both stiffened into a sober brace. I tried to lighten the tension with more small talk. “Widow meeting widower. Sounds like salvation of two hearts?” A hesitant giggle tore from her generous mouth. “Joe Fitzpatrick is lonely. He needs a four-legged companion, not a blind cailleach.”
“A cailleach?”
“An auld Irish hag like me.”
I chuckled as I gingerly transported the dog back to her lap. “So that’s where Digby comes in,”
“Oh no! Never could I give up Digby, but Eire has strays who would be happy to have a warm bed and a meaty bone.” She patted the head of her service dog, who had retracted his tongue and settled on her ample lap. “We mean to find a soulmutt for Joe.” She leaned in close to my shoulder, whispering. “Do you believe in spirits, dearie?”
“You mean ghosts?”
With two thumbs, she lovingly massaged the dog’s long ears. “Not exactly ghosts, but Digby has dark eyes. Mr. Donnelly’s eyes, fer sartin.” She pursed her lips and nodded curtly.
I swallowed my amusement, imagining she was convinced the spirit of her late husband was compacted into a short-legged service dog with long ears and baleful brown eyes. Who was I to set her straight when I was married to a man who was born in Ireland…five generations before me. I glanced at Robbie, my handsome green-eyed soulmate, and thought of the mantra I memorized to deflect the illogica of time travel. Love bridges time—always—in all ways! Long ago, I decided to count my blessings and stop wasting energy groping for a scientific explanation. Miracles…magic? Time travel defied explanation. But then, airplanes in my husband’s era would have been serious science fiction? Totally illogical then. Our honeymoon trip to Ireland was Robbie's first flight. Only my second one. We were both anxious about it for several reasons.
“Is this normal?” Robbie’s warm hand groped for mine. His green eyes matched the emerging shade of the Shannon River and after the plane lurched into a faster descent toward the offshore runway, we both caught our breath and tightened our grasp as the engines began to whine and the loud speaker finally announced in a voice tightly controlled. "Brace for impact." Our plane was going to miss the runway.
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 Avid Readers/Authors
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 CINDY DAVIS deserves a triple A rating! This “Ageless mother of three grown children, grandmother of ten, (incl. 3 greats) is also an Avid reader & Author!
Currently reading ten books a month, (6 for a review group, 4 for editing clients) puts her in the AVID category, even without counting the 700+ novels she’s edited to date. “Much of my work as a freelance editor focuses on mentoring, teaching novice authors of all ages to perfect their skills in editing and proofreading,” she explains.
AUTHOR credits include 24 novels, 14 mysteries, 2 romantic suspense, a YA fantasy trilogy, 7 non-fiction books and over 170 articles and stories in National publications. Born in eastern Massachusetts, she moved to eastern Florida five years ago ”totally because of weather.” Since then, she has become a newlywed, meeting reader/writer Rick on Match.com. Together, they have branched out to Metaphysical in more ways than one. In a four season state, they enjoy anything they can do outdoors.
Her favorite reading genre? Anything well-written. “I am truly impressed with CJ’s writing style. She manages to insert details and even backstory without disturbing the flow of the story.” Check out this AAA lady at https://www.cindydavisauthor.com or https://www.fiction-doctor.com or https://cindydavisauthor.com/blog
REVIEW NOTE from Cj: I can’t claim to be an avid reader, but I did recently read a Cindy Davis mystery. “A LITTLE MURDER” is a Lot of Fun for the reader who’s up for a mystery with some breathless twists and turns. Ms. Davis knows her subject and setting well, and lays out the plot like a game of Clue. Well crafted and as playfully entertaining as a woman who buddies up with Donald Duck! Click HERE to find A Little Murder on Amazon |
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Click on this image to find Cj's books on Amazon
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Timeless Twists On Romantic Suspense
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