Today’s the day, and I’m so eager to share with you my newest book, A Heart for News. It is Book Four, Year One of the new Suamalie Islands series from Celebrate Lit. One of the things we love to do with Celebrate Lit is have a giveaway. So don’t forget to enter (link at the end of the blog).
It’s been a blast working alongside fellow authors in this series. Yes, it’s a bit of a challenge for me to keep track of all the details the other authors come up with for our fictitious location, an archipelago of seven islands in the South Pacific. (Which islands have airports; which islands are touristy; and are there ferries and/or water taxis?)
The stories are intriguing, the characters adorable, and the scenery enticing.
It will probably not surprise you to find many of the male-female main characters clash, even on the road to romance.
In A Heart for News, the main female character, Margo, shies away from experiences she calls “dangerous pursuits.” Steve, the handsome male lead, is a race car driver seeking thrills to get him back to the track. He’s been burned by journalists before, so he avoids them at all costs. Margo’s works for her father’s newspaper.
Not aware of Margo’s job status, Steve tries to lure her into airplane trips and skydiving. Not fun in Margo’s book. But he did to get her on a ferry to visit another island
My husband’s idea of fun does not always jibe with mine. In fact, I’m surprised our marriage has lasted nearly forty-nine years. (Not really, but you get what I mean.) Not long after we were married, we went to a lake with a Tarzan rope swing from which you could jump into the lake.
Well, my husband was a 1960s surfer dude with strong swimming skills. Me, not so much. In fact, the rope swing terrified me, and I refused to jump. My poor hubby was sure he married a scaredy-cat. He was right, and he wouldn’t let me forget that moment for many years.
It’s not just water sports, because motor sports run in my husband’s family. It’s in his blood. A rite to passage for all his cousins was to complete the Barstow to Vegas motorcycle race—a 180-mile trek across open desert, often with 1,000-3,500 other entrants during Thanksgiving weekend. The largest desert race in the world. The event began in 1964, with the last one held in 1989, but with years of wrangling with the Bureau of Land Management in between.
During Thanksgiving weekend 1974, my husband followed his cousins’ example and took part in this grueling event. I wasn’t opposed to him running the race, but there was a minor problem. I was pregnant with our first child. While the rider bumps his way across the desert, his pit crew and hangers-on follow him in road vehicles from pit stop to pit stop. I emphasize “pit stop.” You know how pregnant women are with this problem. There were no bathrooms along the route.
I won’t go into the embarrassing and sometimes hilarious details (like my in-laws holding a blanket around me so I could wee in a bucket, all the while they were singing “tinkle tinkle, little star.” No, I’m not going to tell you that one.)
By the end of the 14-hour day, I was wiped out, and I had little sympathy for my man who had just finished that 180-mile ride through cactus, dry lake beds, mud, and washes. I blame it on the pregnancy hormones.
Believe it or not, despite my fear of rope swings, I had learned to ride a motorcycle. I guess that’s how we’ve made it forty-nine years.
Do you and your spouse or significant other have opposing interests or ideas of what’s fun? (Bonus points if, as a result, you had a hilarious situation.) Tell me about it in the comments.
I also want to invite you to the Suamalie Islands series readers group to see all the fun and get the latest news: https://www.facebook.com/groups/islandsreadergroup
For the chance to receive a $5 Amazon gift card and an ebook copy of A Heart for News, enter the giveaway here: https://promosimple.com/ps/264ec/a-heart-for-news-susan