Last year I knew I wanted to write an inspirational romance. I enjoy writing both romance and what they call “women’s fiction”, a story of a woman and how she faces and grows through various challenges in her life, usually with a romantic sub-theme included. (good stuff!)

As I considered a theme for the current book, I tossed around a few different ideas.

The same year I had the wonderful opportunity to make a friend, Dawn, via Linked In. She’s a fellow Francophile, and we had many things in common. She runs a small group tour company to Provence and it sparked an idea…

My Next Post will be about my new book: Prodigals in Provence...stay tuned!

It was February fifth. The glossy wall calendar hanging inside a kitchen cupboard still displayed a snowy photo for January. Olivia flipped the calendar to the correct month and stared at the day for a moment. She’d be late for work if she didn’t get a move on, yet there was something significant about that date. She furrowed her brow. Was it the birthday of someone she used to know?

James. It was his birthday today. Why, after she hadn’t seen or talked to James in four years, did his birthday graze her consciousness each year? She’d never see him again, not after he’d moved across the world for an ESL stint in South Korea, and subsequently cut off contact. What was he doing now? Had he married a Korean and settled in Seoul? Did it matter? No, she was just curious.

Annette glanced down at her left hand as the airplane engine roared in preparation for takeoff. A curved branch of gold encircled her finger, glinting in the sunlight that poured through the plane window. She’d bought the ring two days after Paul said he was leaving. In defiance and despair, she’d marched into the jewelry store as if on a mission, and charged the pricey band to his account. She placed it where her simple gold wedding band had been. He never said a word.

Now months later, she was free. Her despair had become acceptance and finally, contentment. Not joy, really, but the more she contemplated her change of status over the subsequent months until the final papers were signed, the more she became convinced that her life was about to change for the best.

Jessica approached the house as if she were in a dream. Despite the worn, faded version of what it had been twenty years earlier, she recognized it easily.  The pert, but tired dormer windows still jutted  over the sloping front roof, which hung lengthwise along the front porch.  The porch in particular unleashed a tide of memories, even though the swing where she’s spent so many hours with her grandpa was no longer there.  Her eyes lifted to find rusty hooks that had once held it up, still wedged into the planks. It was as though these old hooks wanted to tell stories of all the occupants of the wooden-slatted swing.

Leaping to her thoughts was the day  when her father told her about his new job. She’d been confused, she recalled, upon hearing the news.  Was it good news or bad?  She hadn’t been sure, but knew her life was about to change.

Her father’s strong but soothing voice had rung in her ears, “Honey, you’ll be able to make new friends in the new city.  You’ll see, it will be a great thing for our family.”  He had sounded so sure, but had insisted too strongly.