National Dessert Day by Merrillee Whren

Do these desserts look delicious? This is a photo my daughter took at a wedding reception for which she had made a lot of cookies for a cookie table. It looks like a lot of yummy choices. My favorite cookie is chocolate chip, but I love all kinds of desserts. I have a fantastic sweet tooth. Too fantastic in fact. So about twice a year I go on a sugar fast. I don't cut out sugar completely, but I do avoid desserts. I do this for four to six weeks and usually right before I go for my annual "well visit" which, in my opinion is a complete waste. I don't know who decided seniors should have a well visit instead of a regular physical. But we aren't here to talk about doctors appointments. We are here to talk about desserts and books.

I have one book that actually has a dessert on the cover. Cupcakes. Valentine cupcakes.

Near the end of the story, my heroine, Samantha Dawson, brings the hero, Wes Norberg, a plastic bin full of cupcakes. They have a tumultuous history, and this is her way of bringing a thank you and a bit of a peace offering. She remembered that he said he had a sweet tooth and figured this would be a good way to get in his good graces. 

Here is the opening scene from Hometown Girl.

A cacophony of voices, honking horns, jet engines, and undefinable noises assaulted Wesley Norberg’s hearing as he stood outside the terminal at the Fort Lauderdale airport. The above-normal temperature of a humid southern Florida day made his shirt stick to his back. How could it be this warm in late November? He glanced at his phone. His rideshare would be there in five minutes. Five minutes to stand in this heat.

     While he waited, wishing for cooler weather, a young woman catapulted herself at him and put her arms around his neck. He tried to pull away, but she clung tighter.

     “Please pretend you know me. I need your help.”

     The desperation in her voice threw him off guard, and in the next instant, she was kissing him. At first he tried again to pull away, but then he found himself enjoying the kiss, relishing it as she melted into him. His mind completely engulfed with the lips of a complete stranger on his, he was enjoying it too much. When she ended the kiss, he nearly pulled her back for more.

     Her arms remained wrapped around him. She trembled, and he recognized her distress. What would cause a woman so much fear that she would kiss a man she didn’t know? Did he dare ask?

     Wes held her close, her dark hair soft against his cheek. She smelled of peaches and berries. “Why do you need my help? What’s this about?”

     She inched back and looked into his eyes, still clinging to him, her brown eyes wide with concern. “Someone’s after me.”

     He strained to hear her whispered response. “Who?”

     “Don’t look now, but the man in black with the dark hair and beard, in line for a taxi.”

     Wes gazed at the woman to keep himself from searching for the ominous man in black. “Why is he after you?”

     “Too long to explain. Just take me with you.”

     Wes frowned as he looked at the woman. “How do you know I’m not worse than he is? I could be a serial killer, for all you know.”

     Her dark-brown eyes surveyed his face. “I’ll take my chances on you.”

     “He must be a scary dude.”

     “He is.”

     While Wes puzzled over this situation, a dark-blue car pulled to the curb, and the driver lowered the window. “Wesley Norberg?”

     “Yeah.” Wes shoved his phone into his pocket as he grabbed his roller bag and wheeled it toward the back of the car.

     The driver hopped out and scooped up Wes’s bag and plopped it into the trunk. Wes turned to get into the backseat but bumped into the unknown woman. “You’re still here?”

     “Yeah. Please take me with you.”

     “But you don’t know where I’m going.”

     “But I do.”

     “Really?”

     A smile brightened her face as relief painted her features. “Wesley Norberg, you’re going to your sister’s wedding.”

     Blown away, Wes wrinkled his brow. “How do you know my name and that I’m going to my sister’s wedding?”

*****

How does she know? I hope you will find out.

Do you like desserts? What is your favorite?

Merrillee Whren is the winner of the 2003 Golden Heart Award presented by Romance Writers of American. She is married to her own personal hero, her husband of forty-plus years, and has two grown daughters. Connect with her on her Facebook page and sign up for her newsletter.

Why Sweet Romance Belongs to Autumn by Josie Riviera

 I have a theory that sweet romance readers were made for October.

Think about what this month asks of us. Slow down. Light a candle. Grab your plaid blanket.

My favorite scenes to write happen in this season of the story, the slow middle, where two people are falling and neither one has admitted it yet. Nothing dramatic has happened, and yet the reader knows the ground has shifted, and a happily ever after may soon be on the horizon.

That is October in book form.

And since this is the season for curling up and reading, I have a gift for your fall reading stack. For a short time, Seeking Charity, my Regency inspirational romance ebook, is free.

If you have not yet visited my Seeking series, this is a good place to begin. The stories feature candlelit drawing rooms instead of ranch land, carriage wheels on cobblestones instead of pickup trucks on gravel roads. The setting may be two centuries removed from my Montana stories, but the heart is the same: faith tested, hope rekindled, and a love that arrives when it is least expected and most needed.

Do you enjoy traveling between eras in your reading? Contemporary ranch land one week, Regency drawing rooms the next? Or do you stay loyal to one time period?

Please leave your comments below.

Josie Riviera is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary, historical, and inspirational romances that read like Hallmark movies. She lives in the Charlotte, NC, area with her wonderfully supportive husband. They share their home with an adorable Shih Tzu, who constantly needs grooming, and live in an old house forever needing renovation.

Sign up for her newsletter and get a FREE ebook on her website: josieriviera.com

The Gift of Grief by Liz Flaherty

This is a very old post, but I've used it more than once when grief has muffled my words as it is now. My husband passed away Saturday, and I really can't write now. However, he always thought you should always show up for work, so here I am just for a little while this morning. I will write about him later, about heroism and boundless love and the best life ever, but not yet. Not yet. 

“Love is an engraved invitation to grief.” - Sunshine O'Donnell

It’s Sunday afternoon when I write this, and the sun is almost out.  How nice it is after two weeks of unremitting gloom.  As it grows lighter outside, I grow lighter inside as well.  Which is odd when you consider what I’ve been thinking about.

Grief.

We all see a lot of it in our lifetimes.  When we’re young and if we’re lucky, we see it from afar.  We see old people die and it’s too bad, but ... you know, they’re old.  Then, of course, comes the time when it’s not from afar and the person who passes on isn’t old.  This is when we really find out about grief.

My grandmother died when I was seven, and even though it felt strange that she wouldn’t sit at the table and drink from her cracked cup anymore, she was eighty-four.  So I didn’t grieve.  Not really, though to this day, I think of Grandma Shafer when I see a cracked coffee cup.  Then when I was eleven, a 10-year-old schoolmate died.  Forty-some years later, I still feel profound sorrow when I think of her.  She was smart and funny and had so much to give here on earth that even now I have difficulty coming to terms with her death.  But I couldn’t identify the feelings I had about her passing, couldn’t explain the tears that came to my eyes for years whenever I thought about Cindy being buried with her red cowboy boots.

When I was thirteen, I lost the only grandfather I’d ever known, and the hurt came in waves, like the throbbing from a bee sting.  He died in June, and by the time school started, I’d gotten over the worst of it, but junior high was different than it might have been.  Because grief wasn’t far away anymore.

I’ve thought about it, off and on over the years.  When my parents and father-in-law died, it hurt, but the grief part of it was far-flung, long lasting, and unexpected.  Life was so busy — we came home from Louisville after my father-in-law’s viewing to go to my son’s football game, then went back the next day for the funeral — that it just went on.  I would see things, of course, that made me think of the parents we’d lost, and I kept Christmas-shopping for my mother long after she was gone.  She was always hard to buy for, and I’d see things she’d like.  And then, in the middle of J. C. Penney or Kmart, I would mourn, because I couldn’t give them to her.

We often drive by the cemetery where my parents are buried.  Sometimes we are past before I even think about it and occasionally I wave —“Hi, Mom” — and sometimes those bee sting waves of hurt strike again.  They’ve been gone for more than 20 years, how can this be?

Sometimes we grieve for things — items irreplaceable but gone, or times — youth, when everything worked right and gravity was our friend, or even places — remember the Roxy and the railroad hospital and those spooky mansions on North Broadway?  Now and then it is a state of mind we miss, or a conversation we wish could have gone on longer, or a friendship we wish we could go back and fix because we blew it big time.

I write a lot about gifts because, being the Pollyanna sort of person that I am, I think nearly everything is a gift.  While I realize that this can be annoying to people who get tired of trying to be happy when they’re just not, I find it much nicer than being unhappy when I don’t have to.  (Don’t even try and straighten that sentence out; you can’t do it.)  But even I’ve never considered grief a gift.  Until now.

Because until you love somebody or something, you can’t grieve losing them.  I wouldn’t still miss my mother if she hadn’t had such a positive and profound effect of my life.  I wouldn’t remember Cindy’s red cowboy boots if I didn’t recall their owner with affection.  I wouldn’t smile at cracked coffee cups if not for the grandmother who died when I was seven.

The buildings and the times and the friendships that are gone all leave remembrances and, in many cases, laughter, behind them.  So, even though the Roxy is gone, I remember watching Woodstock there and singing along, “...one, two, three, what are we fighting for...”  And although the high school now climbs the Broadway hill, I remember walking quickly past the railroad hospital because it was scary looking.  It is fun to remember that.

I remember boys who went to Vietnam.  None of them were still boys when they came home, and some didn’t come home at all.  A part of me — and of everyone else who remembers the Vietnam era — mourns them still.  But another part remembers how tall they walked and all that they gave.  There was one who seemed stronger and better than the others and though I’m still sorry he had to go there and I regret the 14 months of his life he can never get back, I’m happy he came home safe.  And married me.

So there you have grief.  It tangles up with memories and joy and good things.  It is, when all is said and done, a gift.

Lyn Cote Asks What Makes you Happy About Where You Live?

 Here's what makes me Happy! These are views from my porch--fall ones.

Sunset in the Fall

Dawn in the Fall

Fall Colors

I feel blessed to live in such a beautiful place. What do you enjoy when you step outside your door?

My next book in my "More Women of Courage" series.

A wounded Civil War veteran, a fearless woman with a calling, a child in distress, and a dangerous secret beside the Mississippi River… This emotionally gripping Christian historical novel features themes of healing, redemption, found family, and courageous faith. This story blends romance, suspense, and historical women’s fiction in a powerful tale of hope after war.

Click here for more info.--Happy Fall! Lyn

The New Author to the Café

Dani Haviland at Big Footstock in Dallas, Oregon, September 2026. Making new friends, one giant at a time.

Hi. I'm Dani Haviland. I'm new to this group, but I've been around a while. When it comes to Indie Authors, ten years is a long time. I guess that makes me nearly ancient with fifteen years under my fingertips as both a writer and publisher (at Chill Out! Books).

I resisted the label 'Romance writer' for years. At the insistence of a fellow author, I finally accepted it. She insisted that any story with romantic elements is still Romance.

I write multiple genres of Romance. I started with Time Travel (The Fairies Saga), moved over to Cozy Suspense/Mystery (Arlie Undercover and That Twin Thing). My next effort was an experiment.

Since families are so diverse, why not have a multi-genre series? Triplets: Three Aren't One begins with a serious Women's Fiction tale, then proceeds with other family members' stories: Billionaire Romance, Rom Com, Medical Romance, and Time Travel.

In between my four series, I also wrote many singles, spreading humor, sharing bad guys, and the world's obsession with the Time Travel Romance, LOST. Yes, I created a Universe on purpose.

I also am a big fan of Bigfoot. I've created three (so far) illustrated books in the Bigfoot Talks About series of colorful, informative books for all ages.

And then there's the publishing aspect of writing that keeps me busy(ier). Ten years ago, a group of authors got together, pooled our resources and experience, and made the USA Today Bestseller List. We did the same thing two years later, bringing in a few new authors. Like minds, working together.

I still publish sets, not to get listed, but as a way for our group of authors to present our stories in themed multi-author collections. Unforgettable Romances, the first in the series, is still doing well almost ten years later.

Over the years, I have unpublished many of the sets, but I continue to produce more. Initially, we only had three genres: Contemporary Romance, Holiday Romance, and Romantic Suspense.

I expanded our repertoire with Romantic Comedy, Cozy Suspense, and Paranormal Romance. Before the end of the year, I'll produce our first Time Travel/Historical set: Unforgettable Journeys Through Time.

I'm not in every set. I have room to rotate the thirty or so authors who claim The Authors' Billboard and Chill Out! Books as gathering places to rally their reads, romances and more.

Check out the latest release: Unforgettable Christmas Cocoa Craziness. SEVEN romances, from Regency to Alaska to the Tropics.

Explore the Collection!

You can follow me on Amazon and BookBub to find more of my titles.

Thank you, my new friends!

Dani Haviland
USA Today Bestselling Author
Chill Out! Books

Back to the Future: The Story Behind the Story by Pat Simmons

I enjoyed Michael J. Fox’s character in all the Back to the Future movies. Sci-fi seems to hold a bit of truth for the future. Without realizing it, I had a “Back to the Future” book inside me. In 2012, I thought my writing career was over. As a Christian romance author, I had nothing if God didn’t inspire me with a story. The Lord reminded me of an idea I briefly entertained. I had once cared for my 89-year-old grandmother, and I wanted to write a story that would champion caregivers who love deeply but are overwhelmed at times. They just need “someone to understand the life they live. An agent helped me shape up The Caregivers proposal. Christian publishers didn’t seem interested at the time, so the outline sat untouched. Fast forward to 2020, when Sourcebooks approached me about the Caregivers series, which they renamed the Family is Forever series. God spoke to me that someone needed to read the stories. I wanted to explore different scenarios: caring for elderly relatives; a child who might outlive the caregiver; and, after being a caregiver, a person who needs a caregiver. I chose breast cancer, not knowing it would touch my family in the future. Writing Book 2, HERE FOR YOU, felt strange because no one in my family had been diagnosed with cancer. In fact, the Lord blessed me with relatives who have lived into their eighties and nineties. My mom is now 92 years old. Plus, it was fictional, right? I write about all types of plots within the Christian genre, and I had no reason to believe this story would hit home. When someone in my immediate family was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer, I thought about Rachel in HERE FOR YOU, and wondered, Lord, if I hadn’t written that story, would it still have happened? But I know God’s will is divine and not determined by anything I write. But it was a thought. Like the Knicely sisters, I became a caregiver once again. This time, I cared for two elderly loved ones inside my home and one outside.

Caregiving is relevant. That’s why I'm reintroducing the HERE FOR YOU eBook, featuring Rachel. Please download it for yourself and anyone caring for a loved one. Let them know you see them. Enjoy, Pat

Pat Simmons is an award-winning and multi-published author of fifty-plus Christian romances. She lives in St. Louis, Missouri, holds a B.S. in Mass Communications from Emerson College in Boston, Massachusetts, and has worked in radio, television, and print media for over 20 years. Visit her at www.patsimmons.net.

Some Secrets Wear Very Good Tailoring by Camille Elliot

She sits behind the flowers, watching the man she cannot decide whether to trust.

Here’s a brand-new image of this scene from Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer, where my heroine, Miss Phoebe Sauber, begins to suspect that the gentleman who intrigues her may be hiding considerably more than she realized.

Mr. Coulton-Jones didn’t see Phoebe because she was sitting behind the enormous flower arrangement, but he had just approached a man who stood against the wall near the fireplace. Mr. Coulton-Jones’s fine, coffee-brown hair had been forced into a fashionable style, and his cravat was elegantly tied, his shirt-points high but not overly so. His jacket was perhaps a couple of years old but not out of style, and it suited his muscular physique admirably.

“Aunt.” Phoebe nodded toward the two men.

“He only just arrived a moment ago,” her aunt replied.

Phoebe wasn’t certain how she ought to feel upon seeing him again. Now that she knew the connection between the symbol she had found on the Heath, her late Uncle Wynwood and Uncle Sol, Mr. Coulton-Jones’s meeting with that strange man took on a more sinister cast.

Was he involved in something to oppose the government or the war? Because if Uncle Sol were investigating something for the Home Office, it possibly involved one of those two. Yet remembering her conversation with him, and her impressions of his personality, she had a hard time believing that possibility. Or was she simply blinded by her attraction to him?

There was a purr in her aunt’s voice as she said, “It’s very interesting that as soon as he entered the room, he chose to speak to that man.”

—from Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer

---

Curious how it all begins?

Read the beginning of Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer for free and discover why Phoebe's suspicions about Mr. Coulton-Jones are only the beginning.

👉 Read the excerpt now