Only three more days until Seventh Heaven is released by The Wild Rose Press! Yay!
On Wednesday, I'll be holding a contest at Yankee Romance Reviewers and giving away one PDF copy. I'll post a link here on Wednesday so you can pop on over for a visit.
Here again is the blurb and excerpt for Seventh Heaven:
Lilah owns the New Hope Record and Crafts Shop with her friend, Val. Independent and free-spirited, they sell their handmade jewelry and pottery to tourists in their Delaware River town. Lilah’s only hangup is James, who bartends down the street. She’s crazy about him, but lately he’s been cold and distant. Turns out he has reason to be down--he’s had his ticket punched for Vietnam. Lilah makes him a lucky leather-string choker using a silver ankh--the Egyptian symbol of eternity.James is skeptical about its lucky charms, but warms to her again. For seven months, James is in Vietnam. He comes home changed, in more ways than one. Can Lilah show him that her love is all the luck he needs?
James stands in the open doorway. The choker gleams from his neck. “I came by to say thanks.”
The distance she’d felt between them last night is gone. His warm eyes search hers, reaching again for a connection.
“I didn’t know it was you.” She steps from behind the counter. No more barriers between them.
He closes the door. “So. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. It looks good. It’s an--”
“An ankh. I know.” Something seems to be holding him back, but somehow she knows she must be patient, let him come to her.
“The Egyptian symbol of eternity.” She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, and her breath is jagged. “Sorry. I mean, Ben told us. It really stinks you’re leaving.”
He runs a finger across a glazed jug. “Bad timing.”
She clasps her hands in front of her. “I guess it’s never a good time…”
He glances up and flashes a switchblade smile. “I mean, I wish we had more time.” His soft voice rushes at her like the wind and billows the sails of her heart’s rocky boat.
The air thins, seems rarified. “Me, too.”
He takes a step closer. Time feels maddeningly slow. She wants to run to him, fill her arms with him.
She folds her arms. “I hope you’ll write me, if you get a chance.”
He’s within arm’s reach. His gaze flows over her inch by inch, over every curve and hollow.
The floor needs sweeping. And needs to be smaller. Or his steps need to be more expansive. “Sure, I’ll keep you up on the local gossip. Send you goodie packages.” A lock of her hair. A photo of herself so he’ll think of her every day. And night.
His eyes lock on hers. “That’d be nice.”
“We’re going to miss you around here.”
“You will?” The timbre of his voice rumbles inside her like an earthquake.
With his last step, he is so close her skin tingles with his heat. “No one can make a margarita like you.”
He fingers her hair, tucks a strand behind her shoulder. “Come back tonight. I’ll make you all the margaritas you can drink.”
In her head she is already there, sipping at a wide-rimmed glass, serenaded by Dylan in the background, James attending to her alone. “OK.”
“See you about seven, then?”
She smiles. “Seven it is.”
He backs toward the door, slowly, as if still taking her in. The silver ankh winks in the light as he turns to leave.