Today you are going to see several posts about Soul Mate Publishing’s new venture – a Christmas anthology. It’s the release day, birthday, let’s go out and promote this book day for “All I Want for Christmas is a Soul Mate”.
When Char Chaffin, an editor at the SMP, put out the call in July, my first reaction was “How on earth can I write a story with only 4,500 words?” I’ve never done anything like this before, but then again, there are a lot of things I’ve never done and then went ahead and tried.
My next question was: “How can I not? How can I let this opportunity to be part of a book with nineteen other talented authors pass me by?” So I submitted a very short, very quickly put together idea for my story.
Since my husband is a deer hunter, I based part of the story on a hunting accident (and he’d better not bring this idea into reality, that’s all I can say!!!). The idea for the story was also based on several friends who have lost their spouses and how they and their families reacted to their loss and then moving on. Can a woman who was married for twenty-five years find love again? “A Year and A Day” is what I came up with for the anthology.
“All I Want for Christmas” contains twenty short stories all revolving around Christmas and Thanksgiving. They range from sweet to sensuous. Mine is in between.
So if you get a chance, please click on the Amazon link below and give the book a chance. I’m sure you won’t regret it.
My excerpt: The morning sun bounced off the twirling ornament, sending shafts of rainbows across the living room walls. Cara Humber clenched her fists to keep from whipping it across the room.
Could a person die from frustration? She slumped on the couch, put her legs on the coffee table and wiggled her toes in her thick red and green socks. Her light brown ponytail crunched at the back of her neck. Even through closed eyes, the blinking of Christmas lights flashed on her pupils.
Damn her kids. Damn her sister. Most of all, damn Alex for dying, just when their life was getting interesting. Tears threatened. Cara swiped her forearm across her eyes.
Why couldn’t her son or daughter come home for Thanksgiving and help her get through the one-year anniversary of their father’s death? Not to mention act as a buffer between her and her sister, Judy?
But nooo. Her kids had to grow up. Leave home. Lead their own lives. Marry. Have babies. What the hell kind of mother was she, anyway, letting her children turn into responsible adults? Why hadn’t anyone told her how hard it was to let them go?
In the months since her husband’s death, people told her to wait a year to make decisions. Life would get better. They acted as if something magical would happen after that date. Like her life would turn around and the pain would go away.
Well, it was now three hundred sixty five days—she looked at the clock–four hours, sixteen minutes and forty-five seconds, since she’d found his crumpled body on the ground beneath his deer stand. Broken neck. Broken faulty safety strap around his waist. Broken dreams. Not even a chance to say ‘I love you’ one more time or to say goodbye.