Friday, March 20, 2009

New contract with The Wild Rose Press!

As promised in my earlier post, here is more info about the new story contract with The Wild Rose Press. Last year, TWRP put out a call for submission in its Sweetheart Rose line for a series called The Flower Basket. Stories had to conform to series guidelines: be set in Almendra, California, and include the Flower Basket shop and its three owners.
My youngest daughter's name is Rebecca Lynne, and we call her Becca, hence Becca Lyndon became the heroine. Design for Life is intended to inspire her to follow her own dreams. Becca's a very talented artist who deserves every good thing life has to offer.
Below are the story blurb and excerpt. Hope to have more on this soon!

Becca Lyndon must leave art school to care for her ailing mother. When she begins a job at The Flower Basket, her goals appear to be on hold though she’s taking night classes. Mike Hunter, her former high school art teacher, substitutes at her night class, and she panics. He made her senior year a nightmare with his constant criticism. When she learns the reason why, it comes as a complete surprise. She also learns when one door closes, another can open - and lead to unexpected opportunities.

“Morning, ladies!” Becca called as she closed the door behind her.
With a smile, Steffie waved as she talked on the phone.
Hitting the total key, Grace turned. “Hey, Becca.”
Donica Laurent entered from the back of the shop. “Good morning!”
The homey atmosphere in the shop always unraveled Becca’s wound nerves. Walking to the counter, she reached into her handbag, oversized to double as a briefcase to carry her art supplies. Her presentation last night had gone well, but she hoped this morning’s would surpass it.
“If you have a minute, can you take a look at these designs and let me know what you think? I used them for my class project last night.”
Grace laid a hand on her arm, her face alight. “Did you wow them?”
Becca pulled her sketch pad out with a grin. “Not exactly. But Mr. Hunter said they were good.”
Her brow furrowed, Donica stepped next to her. “Who’s Mr. Hunter?”
“A substitute teacher.” Her words came out in a sing-song tone.
Steffie clucked her tongue. “Something about the way you say that makes me think he’s kinda cute.”
Becca couldn’t help but smile. “Not kind of. Very.”
At home last night, she found herself sketching Mike Hunter. His dark hair, tapering to the top of his collar, made her want to run her fingers through its waves. She wanted to remove his black rectangular framed glasses, peer into his dark brown eyes that sparkled when his gaze met hers. Press her lips against his and push his corduroy jacket from his shoulders. Drawing his features gave her a sense of intimacy, one she wanted to experience.
Becca fanned the warmth from her neck, and hoped the women didn’t notice.
Thank goodness they were too busy laughing. Since she’d been hired at the Flower Basket, the three co-owners had come to feel like her sisters. Warm. Supportive. On the days she had to bring her Mom to her doctor appointments, all encouraged her not worry about them, even though the shop had attracted so much new business, they sometimes put in sixteen hours.
Becca hoped to give something back. Something worthwhile.

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