Periodically, one of my publishers, Whispers Publishing, issues calls for submission. Silly me, I usually can't resist reading them. So, near the end of last year, they issued several for relatively unknown holidays. Of course, one caught my eye (this would be the fourth one my muse has kicked me in the butt about). It was a request for a short novella to celebrate Culinarians Day. What's that, you ask. A day to celebrate people who cook. Hmmmm. I like to cook. I can do this.
Putting aside my WIP (previously abandoned several times to answer calls), I started writing Wishes and Dreams. I decided it would be a neat idea to use some of my ancestors on Mum’s side. She was a great cook and should have been a food critic.
The ghost in the story is named after my great-grandfather, Charles Frazier, who was a sea captain sailing the China Run.
I had lots of fun writing it, remembering my mother and stories she told about my great-grandfather.
Wishes and Dreams releases July 25 (which, coincidentally is my father’s birthday and he would be 97). So both my parents are celebrated with this story.
Here's a teaser:
Can a grumpy old ghost stand in the way of a woman's wishes and dreams?
What can go wrong for Dakota Bucklin in one morning? Everything, when her great-great-great grandfather is meddling and her long-time friend, Will Graham, is distractingly attractive.
And a short excerpt:
Dakota stood to one side holding a flat pan in her hand, her sherry-colored eyes wide open as she surveyed the mess. A few wisps of her dark brown hair peeked from under a crooked red bandana.Hope you enjoyed this little taste. Groan, I know, pun intended. It should be available tomorrow at Whispers Publishing.
Will stepped into the room, the door swinging shut behind him. "You doing some heavy-duty redecorating?" He regretted his teasing in case she'd been hit by one of the falling pans. "Seriously, are you okay? Did you get hurt?"
Dakota shifted her gaze to his chest. Her eyes widened even further.
At that moment, Will realized he wore only his pajama bottoms. In his haste to discover what had happened, he had neglected to slip into his jeans and pull on a T-shirt.
"No, I'm fine. It's just… I don't know what happened."
Her voice sounded dazed, worrying Will that she had indeed been injured in spite of her assurance she wasn't. He didn't see any blood or bruising, so he had to assume she was okay.
"I reached for this," she waved the flat pan she held, "and everything came tumbling down."