Do Cowboys Exist Anymore?

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clint-eastwoodIn one of my social media groups someone asked, “Do cowboys even exist anymore?

I found myself smiling and almost without thinking answered, “Watch out for those cowboys! Seriously… They are deadly.

It’s very likely I was thinking of Cord Archer.

I grew up in the US. The word “cowboy” stirs something spiritual in me.

Because of my country’s history? Possibly.

More likely because the word cowboy is dichotomous, and describes a kind of chivalrous, devil-may-care-but-honor your woman, free-thinking, no boundaries attitude that any business consultant will tell you is quite frankly the foundation of every new, out-of-the-box endeavor.

cradleoflies.final.lacey (2)We love cowboys for their bad-boy-loves-the-good-girl-who-loves-to-be-bad ways. We love the twinkle in their eye, the cut of their jeans, the sprint in their step, the chink of their spurs, and the feel and smell of a man whose arms and legs know how to tame a mustang… and a woman. And who knows down deep that she’ll do a little taming, herself 🙂

Cord Archer is exactly this kind of cowboy.

And while he could have just about any girl, the only girl he wants is Mattie Rayne. The problem?

Cord’s daddy is the craziest, most dangerous psychopath serial-killer awaiting execution on death row in the Montana State prison system… and the world just won’t let Cord forget there’s such a thing as the psycho gene… which means one day Cord may wake up to find he’s just like his daddy.

Can the honorable cowboy he is allow Mattie to take that risk?

Meanwhile, Cord is being stalked by a sociopath who wants Mattie Rayne, dead.

The only thing deadlier than a psychopath is the random unpredictability of a sociopath. God help the man who has to contend with both.

CRADLE OF LIES available now on Amazon or through the publisher, Red Sage

So, do cowboys even exist anymore? I can only speak from my personal experience… and that is writing two cowboy stories caused me to absolutely fall in love with the cowboy as an IDEAL… and in my heart, I believe the true spirit of a cowboy still exits.

Maybe, just maybe there’s a cowboy in your future? black hat cowboy

If you’re looking for a cowboy, oh, how I hope you find him. And, if you need a little inspiration, read CRADLE OF LIES. It might scare your pants off, but isn’t that what cowboys are for? 🙂

Soft breezes, all. Thanks for dropping by.

Love,
Rebecca E. Grant
Love is Unstoppable
CRADLE OF LIES – Romantic Suspense – Red Sage Publishing
LIBERTY STARR – Sensual Contemporary award winner-Romance Writers Ink–Carina Press
Latest release: NAKED HOPE – Contemporary Romance available in print and e-book
The Wild Rose Press (print only)
Amazon (ebook and print)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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Today’s question: How do you feel sexy in minus 39 (F) degree weather?

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2 sexy

Today’s question: How do you feel sexy in minus 39 (F) degree weather? Back to this in a moment.

We’ve all had this experience… we get word that a friend or beloved family member has passed, and scurry to arrange our lives to attend the funeral or memorial service. Sometimes these events only touch the surface of our hearts—maybe we weren’t close to the one who passed and so it’s more of an obligatory act of respect.

Other times, it ruins us… for a day… a week… years… and for some, even a lifetime.

A week ago, I set aside a day to drive three hours one way, across a little-traveled highway to attend a funeral. My friend Laura’s father passed unexpectedly. He was only 68.

I grew up in the heart of a large city, and have lived in the suburbs most of my adult life. I’ve never had the experience of living rurally. Freeways and well-traveled city streets—that’s how I get around.

minnesota-mapAnd so, I  didn’t even realize there are still two-lane highways that stretch out across the flatlands, the prairies, the rolling hills, around the many lakes (frozen this time of year), and the richly wooded areas that make up the beautiful state of Minnesota.

January 15th—the very heart of winter. Here in Minnesota, that means sub-zero temperatures, generous and frequent snowfalls, icy roads, short days with scant sunlight, none of which makes for favorable travel across the state on a two-lane highway, to a tiny town I’d never heard of before. I don’t have a GPS, and I wasn’t 100% certain my directions (downloaded from the Internet) were accurate. We’ve all “been there”, right?

*smile*

I watched the weather reports aware that if I drove to the funeral, I had a very small window of (weather) opportunity. I’d have to be up at 6 AM, on the road by 8 AM, arrive in time for an 11:00 funeral, allow 90 minutes for the funeral and a quick hug for my grieving friend, and back on the road by 12:30 so that I could be home before the worst of the snow fell making the roads treacherous.

And then it occurred to me… this would be so much easier to do with a friend. So I called Sandy, a mutual friend whom I’ve never spent time with outside of work or a group of acquaintances, and we agreed to go together… and she was more than happy to drive.

So… true confession moment… {sigh}… I’m kind of a control freak. (Who isn’t?)

*smile*

And I generally prefer to be the driver.
And, I’d never ridden with Sandy before.
And, I sometimes have issues with motion, so a smooth driver is really important.
And, what if she wasn’t a good driver.

You see, the list goes on and on…

*another smile*

But, as I weighed the above list against driving… the only thing to do was to get quiet—to meditate—to center myself—after which I hoped to be able to just allow the day trip to simply unfold.

The day of the funeral, the temperature was minus 8 F with a bitter windchill of minus 25 F. We got a late start, the directions downloaded from the Internet were slightly inaccurate—enough to make us wonder if we’d get there at all—we were stuck behind slow moving cars for most of the drive. Fortunately, the funeral started late—in a tiny town that, unless you happen to live there, no one has ever heard of—in a forgotten farming community—yet, more than 400 people showed up!

And there, in the front of the church sat a shiny ancient John Deere tractor. The first tractor the family had ever had—a fine tribute to the man who not only farmed—but who believed in farming.

john-deere-tractor-04

Sandy and I surveyed the area. No place to park. I was in heels and a knee-length skirt. Sandy had dressed a bit more practical and wore woolen slacks. She offered to drop me off and normally I would not have agreed, but it was so close to 11:00, and I felt compelled not to argue—a strong, intuitive nudge that I knew was important to listen to.

And so I simply agreed, trying not to feel guilty that Sandy would probably have to walk two or three blocks back to the church, across icy streets and sidewalks, after she found a parking spot.

I stepped into the church—actually, I was blown in on an unforgiving gale that nearly toppled me forward (really, it wasn’t the high heels!)—just as Laura and her family were moving away from the casket that cradled her father’s body. Laura was crying loud, broken tears—the kind that rip out the back of your throat—and fill your eyes, blind. She stumbled and then swung in my direction as if someone had pointed and said, “Look, Rebecca’s here.”

Laura propelled herself into my arms. We clung to each other—locked in grief and love. I have often felt that Laura is the daughter I never had. And as I held this lovely woman, who in that moment was so broken by grief, I felt humbled by the immense power of love. The force of friendship. The bond of connection. The strength of people interknit by the grace of community, hard work, and common faith.

When she could speak, she asked me to stay after the service until they returned from the grave site.

“Of course,” I murmured.

Meanwhile… Sandy walked four blocks in minus 8 F weather after parking the car, and blew into the church much like I had. We squeezed into the back of the sanctuary and sat watching the bowed, balding and greyed heads of so many farming families, their bodies bent and grisly from the labor of their work. We listened to the words of the Lutheran minister with his slight Scandinavian accent who clearly knew Laura’s father well. We sang from an outdated Lutheran hymnal, sat in the vibration of the soloist’s voice who sang The Lord’s Prayer, watched in silence as Laura, her two sisters, and their mother grappled with the moment they would say good-bye to this giant of a man who was the cornerstone of their family.

The service ran long…

The family was delayed at the grave site.

Starving, Sandy and I waited, and were the very last to go through the food line. We loaded scalloped potatoes with ham, and green bean casserole onto our paper plates, picked up a cup of stout, black coffee and crowded in (butt-to-butt) at the long tables in fellowship hall where we listened to more stories about Laura’s dad, and of course, when people found out we were headed back to “the cities”, dire predictions about the weather—which was turning (for the worse) while we sat—waiting—keeping a vigil for Laura.

Because she asked us to.

We were way off schedule by the time we left that tiny little town, the wind whistling at our back… until we hit the highway… and then it blew straight into us, icing the windshield, frosting the surface of the highway, creating an icy road.

blowing-snow

It’s been a week since that trip, and just now I sent off an email to Sandy, whom I haven’t connected with since the funeral.

Dear Sandy,

I’ve been meaning to drop you a line.

I felt your heart… while you were driving like a champ… while we were sitting in the back of the church where our friend has done so much of her growing up… taking a break from the treacherous drive back to eat really awful (how old were they???) treats in a bakery that looked so charming from the outside… making our way over a highway as it began to ice… nosing our way through blinding, swirling, white-out conditions.

I believe those are the kind of experiences that create memories (and smiles) and bind friends together on a deeper level.

So… thanks for the adventure, for your courageous determination (is Michael Andretti your cousin?) and oh, by the way… I know what to get you for your birthday… see below 🙂

red driving gloves

Soft breezes, friend of my heart!

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Now… may I just say… today is even colder than the day of our little adventure. The perf5.000x8.000.inddschools are closed due to cold. And this leads me to my question of the day…

How do you feel sexy in minus 39 degree (Fahrenheit) weather?

Well, if you want to know how Jillian and Gavin manage “sexy” in a Minnesota winter, read my latest release, NAKED HOPE, now available in print and ebook through the publisher, The Wild Rose Press or at a slightly discounted rate on Amazon.com.

As always, thanks for dropping by, soft breezes and stay warm!

PS: I’ve conferred with Jillian and she agrees… red leather driving gloves are just about guaranteed to make a girl feel sexy… no matter the season 🙂

Love,

Rebecca E. Grant
Love is Unstoppable

CRADLE OF LIES – Romantic Suspense – Red Sage Publishing
LIBERTY STARR – Sensual Contemporary award winner-Romance Writers Ink–Carina Press
Latest release: NAKED HOPE – Contemporary Romance available in print and e-book
The Wild Rose Press (print only)
Amazon (ebook and print)

* * * * * * *                                             * * * * * * *                                               * * * * * * *

WEBSITE * LOVE IS UNSTOPPABLE BLOG * FACEBOOK * TWITTER * LINKEDIN

Love is Unstoppable

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Well, let’s see… it’s been awhile since I gave a weather report.

I live in Minnesota; one of the coldest regions of upper Midwest USA. And for whatever reason, in the last two years, we have apparently been vying for “largest snowfall of the year” award… and winning… (in addition to the cold)!

Which is to say that I’m sitting in my sunroom (and I ask you… is it a sunroom if there’s no sun?) looking out into a grey sky, watching giant snowflakes zoom in schizophrenic zig-zags, caught in a blustery airstream so chaotic, I have to tell myself to breathe deeply to keep the frenetic energy outside—and not let it seep into my being.

More snow…

Yesterday, I couldn’t get my car into the drive until the plow guys came.

Two days ago, the postal carrier slid into the mailboxes because of the ice and snow. Knocked them over and there they were, leaning at a crazy angle and when I went to remove my mail, it all dumped out into the snow…

Three days ago, my widowed, elderly neighbor died. I live in a twin home. We share a common wall, but I never heard a thing. Her family came and went and because it’s so cold, I haven’t been venturing out, so I never saw them. I never heard them until yesterday, when in yet another snow, I saw their tire treads and wondered why they would leave the warmth of Arizona and visit in THIS weather. Never dreaming…

It made me wonder about how we live such separate lives—all of us—at least those of us who are fortunate enough to live in advanced countries where we have our own space—our own real estate—our own walls. Where even our shared walls keep out the cries and moans of the dying and the grieving.

So, what am I saying here?

1-5-14 Long Beach 077 (2)About a week ago, I returned from a short vacation in sunny Long Beach, California where the weather turned my spirit into something nearly as wild and free as the characters in my books 🙂

But, upon my return, I found I needed to gather all my energy and light around me and go deep into myself for some introspection. About the next book. About surviving winter. About life. The introspection helps create a shift in perspective and kick-start purpose.

And so I sat in the silence, pierced by nothing but more silence, aware of my knee jerk reaction to respond to the phone, texts, email and online chats beckoned, coercing me at regular intervals to “come out and play”.

But I stayed my course. Remained in the white space of solitude. Asking for courage to continue through winter. Asking for courage to write the next book. Asking for courage to greet every day with curiosity and wonder.

The quiet washed over me like ocean waves that come and go with a rhythm known only to the waves.

The Universe is amazing. In my state of asking to experience wisdom, courage, curiosity and wonder, it came to me what a gift it is to experience that kind of quiet—to enter into a state of asking and to recognize that whatever answers reveal themselves, do so because of grace.

Not my grace.

The grace of the Universe. A manifestation of favor, charity, mercifulness (as defined by Webster). And I would add… love. I think we do our best learning in a state of love.

perf5.000x8.000.inddWhich leads me to my tagline—the reason I write—and the basis for every story… the unstoppable nature of Love.

Love is unstoppable.

And so to all of you—no matter what your weather is like—no matter what state your life is in—I wish for you unstoppable love.

And I would add, warm, seductive, soft breezes.

Thanks for dropping by. My latest book, Naked Hope is doing well. I hope you’ll give it a read!

Rebecca E. Grant
Love is Unstoppable
www.rebeccaegrant.com

CRADLE OF LIES releases in 20 days!

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It’s a thrill to announce that CRADLE OF LIES, my contemporary cowboy romantic suspense releases April 1!

Stay tuned for information about giveaways, reviews, interviews and guest bloggers. Meanwhile, enjoy the fabulous cover.

Want a sneak preview? Here’s a link to the first chapter. Or visit my website.

Forced to spend the first sixteen years of his life witnessing some of the most epic murders ever committed, what kind of a life can Cord hope for?

cradleoflies.final.lacey (2)When Cord Archer first meets Mattie Rayne, her incandescent smile heats him like the summer sun, bleaching him clean. Nothing else matters except making her his. Before he can do that, his conscience compels him to explain why he entered an institution at age sixteen and spent five years learning to read, write and function in mainstream society.

Upon learning that Cord is the son of a notorious psychopathic serial-killer, Mattie realizes what a monumental effort it took for him to survive, much less make it all the way back from crazy. Knowing this only makes her love him more.

Just when it would seem Cord is finally about to know love, two phenomenally staggering events irrevocably change the course of his life. First, a sociopath becomes fixated on him. Next, his daddy escapes from prison with the sole intent of tracking him down.

Now, anyone in Cord’s life is at risk because the only thing deadlier than a psychopath is the random unpredictability of a sociopath. God help the man who has to contend with both.

Available April 1 through Red Sage Publications or your favorite online bookseller.

www.rebeccaegrant.com

 

Win a free e-book copy of LIBERTY STARR

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Hello my lovelies! If you’d like a chance to win a free copy of my award winning contemporary cowboy story, LIBERTY STARR, be the first person to ‘like’ my Facebook author page today (August 17) and you’ll receive a free copy. If you’ve already ‘liked’ my author page, be the first one to leave a comment here on my blog (any entry) on August 29, and you’ll receive a free copy.

Happy Friday!

XOXO

Rebecca E. Grant, Love is Unstoppable

www.RebeccaEGrant.com

Dance, Love, Lovers & Dreams

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It’s the last Saturday in July, and I’m writing a scene where my lovers are forced to separate… I’m using this stunning dance, performed by Witney and Chehon, to evoke emotion… how it feels to be severed from the other half of your heart.

What I love most about this dance is not just the emotion of the dance, but the entire story, which includes the story of Witney and Chehon—two people who have the courage and commitment to pursue their dreams.

What is your dream? I’d love to hear from you.

XOXO

Rebecca E. Grant, Love is Unstoppable!

www.RebeccaEGrant.com

Structure is the Name of the Game

No matter how experienced you are, or how many books you have published, it’s always helpful to ‘sharpen the saw’ and go back to the basics. I’m deep into a rewrite of my current work in progress, and found Sloane’s tips a vastly helpful refresher.
From Sloane Taylor’s blog, “Sweet as honey… Hotter than hell”
Sloane writes… Structure is the Name of the Game
Let’s work on Syntax and Tighten the Writing. By doing the former you will achieve much of the later.

Syntax is the patterns of formations of sentences and phrases from words and the rules of the formation of grammatical sentences in a language.

Don’t you just love Webster definitions? They make everything so unclear.

In plain English, Syntax means the word arrangement and sentence structure.

Remember that old song by Tom Jones, and later Joe Cocker, “You Can Leave Your Hat On”? It was sexy, vibrant, and made you want to, ahh… er… leave only your hat on.

The phrasing is great for lyrics and dialogue, but oh so wrong for narrative. Why? You should never end a sentence with a preposition. Yes, it sounds right. Yes, we talk that way. Grammatically it is incorrect.

How should it read? “You can leave on your hat.” Sure doesn’t have the same impact does it?

Frequently, grammatical sentences don’t have the same effect and if you find this to be true save the prepositional endings for your dialogue. Sometimes you can’t help but use them in narrative because you need that force or dramatic effect. It’s okay but use it sparingly.

Here’s an example of what Redmond O’Hanlon, Into the Heart of Borneo, Vintage 1987, got away with in his novel;

“My companion, James Fenton, however, whose idea the venture was, enigmatic, balding, an ex-correspondent of the war in Vietnam and Cambodia, a jungle in himself, was a wise old man in these matters.”

I don’t know if Fenton did this as a joke on his editor, if it got missed in the edits, or he wanted this sentence to read as written. But I will guarantee you won’t get away with this type of writing with today’s editors. Be sure to read your work aloud and correct any sentences that are convoluted.

ALOUD is the key word here. Read your work aloud. I can’t stress this enough. It’s the only way to allow your ear to pick up the errors. Sure you’ll feel stupid doing it, even if you are home alone locked in your closet. Get over it. We all experience the same reaction. Here’s your option; let your book go to an editor with written garble and expect a nice form rejection in the return mail.

When you read aloud look for;

• Does your intent come across – action, suspense, romance, sorrow?
• Does something detract from your meaning?
• Fine-tune your sentences until they sound perfect, rhythmic, to your ear.

To further Tighten the Writing get rid of unnecessary words. It will make your writing sound stronger. Those expendable words are, but not limited to;

• A little
• Almost
• Anyway
• At the present time
• Began to
• By means of
• Certainly
• Considering the fact that
• Definitely
• Even
• Is/was/were
• Just
• So
• Some
• That
• Very

Be concise, don’t ramble on with your descriptions. Think about the sections you skim or avoid when you read a novel. Don’t allow that to happen to your reader. Make sure you haven’t flooded a section with so much back story or description you are boring the reader. Get rid of the excess because most of it won’t matter.

Please don’t write you book via Roget’s Thesaurus. Today’s editors want meat in a book, not fat. Readers do not want authors to written down to them. Use the everyday words of your speech and not some $20.00 word that has your reader reaching for their Webster’s.

Avoid clichés like the plague. Get the idea? You are a writer – so write something new.

I’m not being bitchy here. I want you to get published. We should have millions of new books available from the reliable E-publishers and on the shelves of every type bookstore. But, if you don’t do your job the numbers will be low and our future generations won’t have the role models they need.

Have a wonderful weekend. I’ll be back Monday with The Immortal Tux. Until then…

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor

To all, hope your weekend is fabulous!
Rebecca E. Grant
Love is Unstoppable
LIBERTY STARR I Contemporary Cowboy Romance
Where the Magic Begins Sensual Contemporary Award winner, 2011 (RWI)

** Coming Soon **
NAKED HOPE | Contemporary Romance published by The Wild Rose Press
Read excerpt
Find me:
www.RebeccaEGrant.com
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Deeper Point of View

This content originated from Vonnie Davis’ blog http://www.vintagevonnie.blogspot.com/?zx=dc660b364d58cfdd

Vonnie says, “Allow me to share some things I’ve learned. Then maybe you can add what tips you’ve picked up about point of view in your comments. We can learn from each other. How cool is that?
Years ago, books were written in omniscient pov, with the writer as the literary god who knew everything, saw everything, heard everything. By and large, that pov has gone out of style like teased hair and polyester leisure suits. Enter the singular pov. Many mysteries are written in first person pov (I suspected he was a liar.). Novels are usually written in the third person pov of the main character (Molly Brown hated liars.). Romances mainly include the third person pov of the hero and heroine (Fabio had to admit the woman fascinated him).
Remember, pov is the vehicle your reader uses to travel through your story. And you want your reader to ride in style from the words “Chapter One” to “The End.” We don’t want them riding on the front bumper as we tell them the story. No. We want them settled into the cushiony leather seats of our vehicle while we show them the characters, action, emotions and conflict of our story.
To quote Alicia Rasley in her The Power of Point of View (Writers Digest Books, 2008), “we see and hear and feel a particular event from the perspective of one person. We might not consciously think that we are in Johnny’s head and body during a battle scene, but we know that Johnny’s ears are ringing from the artillery fire, his vision is blurring, and he’s seriously considering dropping his weapon and heading for the woods. We get the vicarious experience of exhaustion, despair, and pain without actually having to fight the battle.”
Our goals, as a writer, are twofold. First, we want to tell a good story. Second, we want to draw the reader into the head and body of our pov character. We want our reader to experience everything our character is seeing, hearing, tasting, touching, thinking, smelling and feeling. In effect, we want the reader to become the pov character. We do this by becoming the pov character while we write.
Of course that’s not always easy to do, is it? I have no clue what’s its like being chased by a werewolf, for example, but I do know what it’s like to be chased by a swarm of bees. I know the effects of the “flight or fight” syndrome: heart pounding in my ears, rapid breathing, trembling, dry mouth, clenched stomach and so on. So, if I were to write a scene about being chased by a werewolf, I’d draw on those feelings to show readers what my pov character is experiencing.
Avoid using “she heard” or “she saw” or “she thought.” These phrases distance the reader from the character and are not needed. If we are in Sally’s pov, for example, the reader already knows you, the writer, are writing about what Sally experiences. Let me show you—
Sally stood on the corner waiting for the bus and heard the church bell chime eight times. It was so cold outside this morning she felt a shiver raise goose bumps on her arms. Instinctively, she covered the bruise on her cheek when she saw Mr. George walking toward her. Behind her, she heard Toby, her husband, call her name and turned. Just as she thought, he was still angry. Oh, how she wished she were already on the bus, far away from here.
Now, without the distancers (sorry, I know that’s not a word):
Sally stood on the corner waiting for the bus. The church bell chimed eight times, adding an echo to the crisp coldness of the morning air. She shivered and huddled into the fleecy lining of her jacket, blowing warm breath into her cupped, chilled hands. Footsteps crunched on the snow-covered sidewalk as Mr. George approached. Instinctively she covered the bruise on her cheek, her touch making it throb. She nodded a silent greeting to her neighbor, which he returned. Had he noticed the bruises? Toby called her name, and she tensed. When she glanced back over her shoulder, her husband was running toward her, unshaven, disheveled and clearly angry. Oh, how she wished she were already on the bus, far away from here.
Which scene did you feel more a part of? Since we knew we were in Sally’s pov, the distancers “she heard”, “she saw” and “she felt” were unnecessary.
Now, we’re going to talk about deep pov. In deep pov, we show the reader why. Why does our pov character behave this way? React this way? Think this way? Why does a woman tense when she’s alone with a man? Why does our male character distrust women? Why does a teenager hate family social functions? Why does a man turn to alcohol every day after work?
We all have a history. Our history helps shape our behavior and thoughts. Readers will also understand and accept a character’s bad behavior if they understand the pain or history behind it. This becomes our job as writers to show—not tell—why our characters behave the way they do. We draw them into the character’s head, into their psyche, if you will.
POV is more than knowing whose head we are in. As writers, we seek to draw our readers into the character’s body. By incorporating the senses, we can show them how scratchy wool feels against the skin, how a whisper at the ear can feather the hair, how yucky it feels when water gets into the character’s shoes or how a loud heavy-metal song jangles the nerves. As writers, we help the reader live the experience. We also make the reader privy to the emotional secrets and pains the character carries within. And don’t we all carry around pain from a past experience?
By using deep pov, we add texture, emotion and strength to our writing. Use the power of pov to make your stories memorable. Make the power work for you, your way, your style, your voice.”
Thanks for sharing, Vonnie!
Visit for her blog, Vintage Vonnie http://www.vintagevonnie.blogspot.com/?zx=97a9a7c1837156a7 for her latest release, Those Violet Eyes
Visit Rebecca E. Grant’s website: www.rebeccaegrant.com, Facebook author page, Twitter

My Book Contract is all Buttoned Up!

Gavin’s Concert Grand

Yay! The contract is all buttoned up. My next book, NAKED HOPE, releases through The Wild Rose Press. The hero, Gavin Fairfield is a concert pianist, composer…

Just imagine how he performs on a grand piano 😉

Rebecca E. Grant  Love is Unstoppable



www.RebeccaEGrant.com