Marriage Resurrected by Liz Flaherty #LoveStory #SecondChanceRomance

MUSE MONGAY

I love this post by guest, Liz Flaherty, for Muse Monday. A long married life can be quite the inspiration for a book. And having one of  those long marriages, I can relate. Maybe you will too...

We’ve been married for a long time. Make no mistake—I’m glad for that. I still love the guy who sits in the other recliner and can’t imagine a day without him in it. But there are days…oh, yes, there are days. I thought that after the kids were raised, things would be easier. And they were. And then I thought when we retired, life together would be such a piece of cake…so easy. We’d spend all our time together and cultivate mutual interests and we’d travel and…

What was I thinking?

No, it’s not particularly easy, but I love every day of our lives together. We’ve been lucky…yes, and worked hard…so that we’ve never separated from each other. While we’ve had both loud times and silent ones, we’ve been in the same place. We held onto the idea that the next day would be better. Sometimes it took more than one, and we were okay with that, too.

But not everyone makes it all the way through the loud and silent times.

In A Soft Place to Fall, Early and Nash were married for a long time, too. She got pregnant while she was still in high school and they got married when she was 16 and he was 18. They both worked nearly all the time and got Nash through medical school and raised four children. Thirty years after they got married, they’re living in a pretty gated community in Lexington, Kentucky, enjoying grandbabies and freedom from debt and…

And maybe not enjoying anything at all. At least, Nash isn’t.

Divorced and in search of herself, Early moves back to the Ridge in rural Kentucky. She takes care of Nash’s father after he has heart surgery, of her mother when she breaks her ankle, and…finally…of herself, too. As she builds a quilt shop named A Soft Place to Fall, she also creates a life for herself.

But then there’s Nash.

A Soft Place to Fall was first released in 2013. Nine years later, with a few changes, it still feels relevant—even more so to me now because I know just how hard it can be to rebuild from the ground up. I hope you find grace and its path in the story, too.

Blurb: Early McGrath doesn't want freedom from her thirty-year marriage to Nash, but when it's forced upon her, she does the only thing she knows to do - she goes home to the Ridge to reinvent herself.

Only what is someone who's spent her life taking care of other people supposed to do when no one needs her anymore? Even as the threads of her life unravel, she finds new ones - reconnecting with the church of her childhood, building the quilt shop that has been a long-time dream, and forging a new friendship with her former husband.

The definition of freedom changes when it's combined with faith, and through it all perhaps Early and Nash can find a Soft Place to Fall.

Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/3yexr8jz

D2D: https://books2read.com/u/bW57yx

Excerpt—just a snippet!

He set down the remote control and pushed himself to his feet. Early walked every day no matter where she was. She used to ask him to go with her, but he’d usually found reasons not to. After his angioplasty, she forced the issue and he went along, treading Canterbury Crossing’s pseudo-cobblestones for the prescribed time. He’d responded to her attempts at conversation in monosyllables until she gave up and they did their three miles in a heavy silence that seemed to seep into and take over the rest of their marriage. Sometimes he’d noticed her lips moving and knew she was praying.

He wished he’d have prayed with her, but he hadn’t. He wished he’d talked to her more, but he hadn’t.

He wished a lot of things.

Bio: USA Today bestselling author Liz Flaherty started writing in the fourth grade when her Aunt Gladys allowed her to use her portable Royal typewriter. The truth was that her aunt would have let her do anything to get her out of her hair, but the typewriter and the stories it could produce caught on, and Liz never again had a day without a what if… in it.

She and Duane, her husband of at least forever, live in a farmhouse in central Indiana, sharing grown children, spoiled cats, and their grandkids, the Magnificent Seven. (Don’t get her started on them—you’ll be here all day.) To find out more about her, stop by http://lizflaherty.net/ or any of the other places she hangs out by visiting linktr.ee/LizFlaherty.

 

Reinventing Yourself 101 by Liz Flaherty #romance #MatureHeroine #SecondLove

MUSE MONDAY

It's great to have Liz Flaherty back on Discover... for Muse Monday. I love books with mature heroines who have so much more to offer with life experiences. This story sounds like a fun one and makes my TBR list.

As any of us who’ve lived past the age of 40 know, life is all about reinvention. We wear so many hats as we go through those reinventions—the mom hat, the partner hat, the volunteer hat, the retirement hat, the nana hat…and so on. And on. Some of them fit really well and you never want to take them off, and some of them you might wear too long, or maybe they hurt your head, or maybe you wake up one morning and everything’s changed—hat and all.

Rye Winters grew up in Chicago, and she loves it there. After many years in a small-town subdivision, the forty-something widow is champing at the bit to go back. She’s sold her business and her house and made plans right down to the kind of apartment she wants to lease or buy—no more lawn-mowing or weed-eating for her! She’s not going to need a car—which is great because she hates to drive. She’d reinvented herself once—she could hardly wait to do it again.

But before making her final move, she goes to Fallen Soldier, Pennsylvania, population 2922, to be her best friend’s “widow of honor” in her wedding.

Where she meets the preacher, falls in love with a cottage on the lake, and can’t stop looking at a downtown building that has so many possibilities. Hmm…

He’s afraid a second time at love wouldn’t live up to his first. She’s afraid a second round would be exactly like her first.

Pastor Jake McAlister and businesswoman Riley Winters are in their forties and widowed. Neither is interested in a relationship. They both love Fallen Soldier, the small Pennsylvania town where they met, even though Rye plans to move to Chicago, and Jake sees a change in pastorates not too far down the road. Enjoying a few-weeks friendship is something they both look forward to.

However, there is an indisputable attraction between the green-eyed pastor and the woman with a shining sweep of chestnut hair. Then there’s the Culp, an old downtown building that calls unrelentingly to Rye’s entrepreneurial soul. And when a young man named Griff visits Jake, life changes in the blink of a dark green eye.

Buy link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0B2FT1JLR

Excerpt

“Your eyes,” he said, “are extraordinarily blue.”

“Yours are extraordinarily green.” His sweater, the same color as his eyes, was soft under her hands, covering shoulders and arms more muscular than she had expected. He was just the right height to dance with, too. Looking up didn’t hurt her neck, but he was enough taller than she to reduce her tendency to lead. “Is this our first date?”

He looked thoughtful. “No. Actually, I think we’ve had several. We’ve just kind of avoided calling them that.”

“That’s good then.” She sounded breathy again, but the truth was, she was feeling a little winded by his proximity and how it made her feel. “Because, I wouldn’t want to be known as someone who…you know…would kiss on the first date.”

“No, that wouldn’t be good, would it?” His arms tightened. “But maybe after several dates it would be okay?”

“I think so. A nice kiss goes well with wine and cheese and Ebenezer Scrooge’s story.”

“Does it?” His lips, warm and firm, met hers then. Searching. Tasting. Releasing. For a moment. “If one goes well, how would they be with two?”

“Oh.” She raised her hands, threading them through his thick, soft hair. “I think they’d be even better.”

The wine, cheese, and movie were wonderful after four kisses, splendid after five. The wine had had plenty of time to breathe and the cheese had warmed so that its flavor was rich and its consistency creamy.

Kind of like the kisses. Not the creamy part, but warm and rich and leaving her with a wish for more.

Bio: USA Today bestselling author Liz Flaherty started writing in the fourth grade when her Aunt Gladys allowed her to use her portable Royal typewriter. The truth was that her aunt would have let her do anything to get her out of her hair, but the typewriter and the stories it could produce caught on, and Liz never again had a day without a what if… in it.

She and Duane, her husband of at least forever, live in a farmhouse in central Indiana, sharing grown children, spoiled cats, and their grandkids, the Magnificent Seven. (Don’t get her started on them—you’ll be here all day.) To find out more about her, stop by http://lizflaherty.net/ or sign up for her newsletter at http://eepurl.com/df7dhP.

LinkTree to Social media links: https://linktr.ee/LizFlaherty

Baby Making by Liz Flaherty #romance #babymaking

MUSE MONDAY

Ah, romance. Especially when baby making is involved. Liz has a great post and excerpt for you today.

I was so lucky. I got pregnant, I swear, just by giving it serious thought. My husband probably thinks there was more to it, but, really, it was just so easy. I carried all three of my kids with a minimum of drama, much morning sickness, and weight gain I’m still fighting (and blaming the kids for) 40-some years later.

But I know that’s not everyone’s story.

When I was writing The Healing Summer, Carol’s best friend couldn’t have a baby. The pendulums of biological clocks were swinging wildly and even though adoption was very much under consideration, so was everything else. Carol was single, she’d lost one child and miscarried another. She had no intention of ever being pregnant again.

Imagine her surprise when the words “gestational carrier” came out of her mouth. Imagine her further surprise when she offered to be one.

There is more than one plot in this book, more than one story—if a writer can be both linear and all over the place, I’m it—but the story of Carol and her best friend’s baby just might be my favorite.

BLURB:

It’s a summer romance--what happens come September?

When Steven Elliott accidentally rides his bike into Carol Whitney’s car at the cemetery, the summer takes on new and exciting possibilities. Long friendship wends its way into something deeper when their hearts get involved. Feelings neither of them had expected to experience again enrich their days and nights.  But what happens when the long summer ends? When Carol wants a family and commitment and a future, Steven isn't so sure. He’s had his heart broken before—can he risk it again?

Excerpt:

“Were you hunting me?” She should have waited to get her breath back—she sounded like a vamp from one of 1940s movies that were on really late at night when you couldn’t sleep. “When we met on the road, I mean.”

“Huh?” He sounded nonplused, and she felt like cheering. She wasn’t the only one who’d been kissed stupid—he wasn’t doing so well, either. “Oh, yeah.”

“Yeah?” She turned away, starting to put away the abandoned groceries. If she couldn’t see him, she would neither hyperventilate nor jump his bones. Maybe.

“Want to?”

Want to what? That? Did she want to? Hell, yes, she wanted to. But they were just barely aware of each other, and he was going back to his big city life and big city friends in a matter of weeks. Although he’d probably spend some weekends at Miss Abigail’s and possibly even open an office in Peacock the way he’d mentioned, he wasn’t good relationship material.

Even more, in Carol’s mind and she thought probably in his, he was still Promise’s. The thought sobered her and stilled her hands. Oh, Promise.

“What did you…why did you want me?” she asked, trying to insert some sense into the conversation, some mental cold water on her still-shrieking girl parts.

“Dinner.” He pulled his hair back into a band he took from his pocket—he never seemed to run out of ponytail holders. “Would you like to go to dinner? And shop for cars? I know you’re not going to the beach this summer, but I’ll buy you a girly drink with an umbrella in it and you can pretend.” He ran a finger lightly down the strap of her dress. “You can wear one of these dresses, although probably not this one, since I seem to have decorated it with sawdust and sweat. Oh, wait.” He held up both hands to stave off an answer. “Grace told me it was rude to suggest someone wear something in particular, so I take that back. Wear whatever you like.”

“When and why did Grace tell you that?” She refilled their tea glasses and handed him his. She took a long drink, hoping the cold brew would serve to cool down her insides.

Well, that wasn’t working—she was pretty sure she felt them sizzle.

“Thursday. She was going to afternoon tea over at the Old Farts Home, something they’ve apparently decided to have every Thursday. You stay for it, too, don’t you, after you get their hair and nails all prettied up? Anyway, she had on her overalls, complete with grass-stained knees, and I said, very politely, ‘Holy shit, Grace, are you wearing those?’ She didn’t respond well.”

“I’m amazed.” She shook her head.

“I was, too,” he said righteously. “I was only trying to help.”

Even if she could have resisted the hormonal storm that had overtaken her kitchen, Carol had no defense against his laughing dark eyes. “Okay, thanks. I’d like to go to dinner. And you’re sure it’s all right if I wear whatever I please?”

His gusting sigh should have made the kitchen curtains stir. “Yes. Fine. Can I use your phone to call Dillon and ask him to bring my truck up the hill?”

“Sure, or we can walk down if you’d rather.” Carol was surprised at how much she was enjoying the walking these days, especially when it was downhill.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“No.” She grinned at him. “But you have to take a shower. I do have some standards on dates.” She gasped as soon as the words left her mouth. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t a date. We’re friends who kissed…accidentally. This is dinner, not a date. Right?”

He smiled, a slow and lazy expression that turned her stomach over. And over again. “Wrong.” He came over and kissed her once more. Thoroughly. “It’s a date.”

Bio:

Retired from the post office and married to Duane for…a really long time, USA Today bestselling author Liz Flaherty has had a heart-shaped adult life, populated with kids and grands and wonderful friends. She admits she can be boring, but hopes her curiosity about everyone and everything around her keeps her from it. She likes traveling and quilting and reading. And she loves writing.

Find her at: lizkflaherty@gmail.com and on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorlizflaherty/ and Twitter: https://twitter.com/LizFlaherty1

Buy links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07X8DGPM6/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i6

B & N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-healing-summer-liz-flaherty/1133411458

Google Books: https://books.google.com/books/about/The_Healing_Summer.html?id=kj64DwAAQBAJ

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-healing-summer

What's Next by Liz Flaherty

FEARLESS FRIDAY

Please join me in welcoming author Liz Flaherty with a fun tale!

The silence is eerie in its completeness. I don’t know where the panic-induced adrenalin has gone, because it was noisy in and of itself, but it’s curiously absent. I’m calm and unafraid. Well, not calm—we’re 600 feet in the air, for God’s sake, dangling precariously from a harness without a seat. There’s air buffeting us around a bit. It feels…nice. Scary. No, just nice. I never think of exhilaration as being silent but it is right now—silent and joyous. Is this what dying is like? I wonder.

“Okay,” says Lynn, my sister-in-law and partner in crime—for whom height is an issue, “that’s enough. We can go down now.”

I wrote that over two years ago. I was 62, Lynn was 59, she has a heights issue, and I’m terrified of water. These all seemed like viable reasons to go parasailing. So we did.

I was fairly new to being retired and terrified of what I was about to become. Retired people didn’t work anymore, did they? They watched television, complained about their health, and drove too slow in the left lane, right? They used the term “fixed income” as though it was confined to them. They got percentages off at stores and restaurants, but never got their wallets out until the cashier told them how much they owed. They went through the 15-items-or-less checkout with a full cart because, as one man told me while I stood behind his week’s worth of groceries with my bread and milk, “You can wait. I’ve worked all my life. I’ve earned this.”

That day, not the one when Lynn and I were strapped into harnesses and lifted high in the air, was the life-changer. It was the one that made me decide what kind of old person I intended to be.

I would be the one who counted her items before she used the express line, the one who drove at least the speed limit and stayed in the right lane unless I was passing someone. I would only watch TV if there was absolutely nothing better to do and my answer to “how are you feeling?” was always going to be short and positive. I’d take my senior discounts, but I’d have my wallet out and waiting when I heard the total owed. I was going to keep working, keep writing until they withdrew my keyboard from my cold, dead hands.

It’s not always as easy to do as it is to type the words here—even I will admit that—but it’s not always that hard, either. I can’t write as fast as I used to, but I’ve had four books traditionally published since I retired. I’m not sure how I’d do with eight hours a day on my feet anymore, but I log a lot of volunteer hours and have a really good time doing it. I don’t have any trouble keeping up with traffic, staying on the right side of the road, or knowing which checkout lanes I should use.

Even though parasailing is the rashest thing I’ve done in this new invention of myself, the rude old man’s remark was the life-changer for me. I’m really glad for both experiences.

I still want to go zip-lining. Or maybe make a tandem jump from an airplane. I want to go back to Europe. I’ve learned there are two great words that go along with being retired.

What’s next?

Bio

Liz retired from the post office and promised to spend at least fifteen minutes a day on housework. Not wanting to overdo things, she’s since pared that down to ten. She spends non-writing time sewing, quilting, and doing whatever else she wants to. She and Duane, her husband of…oh, quite a while, are the parents of three and grandparents of the Magnificent Seven. They live in the old farmhouse in Indiana they moved to in 1977. They’ve talked about moving, but really…37 years’ worth of stuff? It’s not happening!

She’d love to hear from you at lizkflaherty@gmail.com.

Back to McGuffey’s

ISBN: 978-0-373-36696-5 

The one that got away 

Could Kate Rafael’s day get any worse? First she lost her job, then her house burned down and now her ex is back in town. Apparently, Ben McGuffey's taking a break from being a big-city doctor to help at his family’s tavern and reassess the choices he's made for his career.

Ben ends up giving Kate a hand...then giving her kisses...and finally, a second chance. But when a local teenager shows them both a glimpse of what it means to be a family, Ben wonders if having kids in small-town Vermont would clash with his ambitions. Or can he truly come home again…to Kate?

Buy Link