Katie McCullough doesn’t know it, but Max Sawyer, the over confident, irritatingly handsome hotel developer who outbid her for the lighthouse property, is none other, than her mystery lighthouse sailor. The one man who captured her heart five years earlier, the one man who has since been the plum line for every other unsuspecting male who has crossed her path. Unfortunately for Max, he doesn’t measure up either.
Still reeling from losing the property she’d planned to call home, sparks fly when Katie assumes Max is turning her beloved lighthouse compound into one of his ‘Serenity Spa Resorts.” Outraged, Katie sets out on a mission to dismantle the property…and his plans.
Except Max’s plans have absolutely nothing to do with hotels and everything to do with winning Katie’s heart.
Bits of oyster shell spewed out from under the tires of Katie’s Jeep as it screeched to a halt. Without knocking, she stomped into the keeper’s house to find Max working on an open windowsill on the bottom floor.
“So you’re in the hotel business.” Katie threw the sheaf of papers down on the table near where he was working.
“Yes and good afternoon to you, too.” Max stopped for a brief moment then continued to sand the windowsill. “I see you’ve been doing some research.” His firm lips twitched.
“If you think you are going to turn this,” she said, waving her arms through the air, “into one of your…Serenity Spa Inns, then you are dreaming Mister.”
“Is that so?” Max straightened and his eyes locked with hers.
“You bet. I’ll never let that happen.”
His tawny eyes gave her a once over. “And you think you’re big enough to stop me?”
“Yes,” she spat out, “Don’t think I can’t. I’ll rally the entire town if I have to. This is not what the council agreed to when they accepted your bid.”
Max’s brown eyes turned glacial. “Careful Angel. That sounds like a threat. If it is, you’ll come off the worse for it.”
Katie inhaled sharply. “You may have been master of all you commanded but you won’t master me.”
Max stopped working and turned toward her. Even in her anger, Katie noticed his shirt, unbuttoned and clinging to his muscular form with the sweat of his labor, his forearms glistening with perspiration mingled with tiny particles of wood shavings.
“Maybe we should put that to the test?” he drawled.
“There’s no maybe about it.” Inhaling sharply, Katie gathered up her papers and stormed out of the house.
Darcy was born into the rich culture of New Orleans, La. As a city filled with colorful historical intrigue and broad creative energy, her natural bent to the arts coupled with her love for one of the most romantic cities in the world has been the inspiration and anchor of her artistic multi-dimension endeavors. Darcy was always compelled by the need to express herself and like her mother’s famous gumbo, her previous expressions included a little bit of everything – art, music, acting and dance.
Although, published in music, art and the Christian non-fiction market under another identity, it was the empty nest that turned Darcy to writing romantic fiction. A lover of lighthouses, Darcy’s first novel, Keeper Of My Heart, unfolds in a small Maryland fishing village on the Chesapeake Bay.
Darcy, a former Mrs. Tennessee, continues to be surrounded by all things creative in Music City and when not in writing in her London flat, lives on a beautiful horse farm in historic- Franklin, Tennessee with her husband, son, two English Setters and a calico cat. Darcy enjoys stargazing, raising rare breed chickens and gardening.
Visit Darcy at www.darcyflynnromances.com
When I started writing my novel, my son was in second year in college and my husband had recently begun working from home. I thought, how wonderful, we’ll be working here at the house together. Side by side, having afternoon tea and enjoying our farm. But what I didn’t anticipate were the frequent interruptions I’d opened myself up to.
This was my first novel. My baby. I’d read all the books, taken the workshops and now I was ready to begin. It seemed ideas bombarded me every few minutes, if not every second. Plot outlines, scenes, conversations came at me from all directions. I frantically scribbled them on any scrap of paper I could find. This was the state of mind I was in those early days. I needed absolute quiet. Minimal interruptions. I labored over every sentence, writing and rewriting until my thoughts and intent were clearly stated.
Invariably, it would be during one of those painstaking moments my husband would yell for me from downstairs. The great thought, right on the tip of my fingers would disappear. Frustrated, but being the loving and supportive wife that I am; I’d stop, go downstairs and see what he wanted. Usually, it was something on the computer he thought I might find interesting. I’d think, couldn’t this have waited? Did I have to see this at this very moment?
You see, my husband, can do three things at one time and do them well. He can write a business proposal while his favorite game is on the TV and have a coherent conversation with me all at the same time.
What he didn’t understand is that I couldn’t do that!
Instead of communicating my frustration with him, I’d make the appropriate comment and run back upstairs to write.
After some weeks of this, I finally expressed my frustration. You got it.
I’ll save you the details, but let me say, I gave him a piece of my mind I couldn’t afford to lose! LOL
Being the organized type A person he is, he suggested that in the mornings we go on a quiet schedule, where I could write uninterrupted. Then we could have lunch together and talk about our respective mornings. We agreed the afternoons would be less restrictive. And we gave each other permission to interrupt the other without repercussions.:)
One of the things I learned during that time was to relax and enjoy the process. Not to fret over a lost thought or idea. But, I do keep my smart phone handy and use the ‘voice memo’ app frequently.
If you’re an artist or a writer, how do you protect the few hours you have each day to work? I know an author who wears a tiara while she writes to let her children know that ‘mom is working’. What are some of the challenges you’ve had to deal with? From which family members? Where do you work? A quiet nook? A coffee shop?
Please share your experiences. What has worked or not worked for you?