What I miss the most…

CoronaVirus has locked me at home since mid-March–six months to the day. At first I thought it would be a three to four weeks confinement and accepted the situation with resignation. I prepared myself a uniform for grocery shopping, something easy to wash regularly, and I chose a pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt I was about to give away, my oldest pair of sneakers, a cap, and the little yellow purse I hate. Unfortunately after three washes, these clothes shrank…and I uploaded five pounds all around.

In front of Walmart

But grocery shopping once a month was not enough outing for oxygen breathing. I was suffocating at home, writing eight hours a day or chatting on the phone. I hardly saw my grandchildren once or twice a month, on the beach or in their backyard, always with masks on and never for more than twenty minutes. To exercise, without mask, I walked on the building catwalk with my Fitbit recording 4 to 5 miles a day. I lost my claustrophobic feeling but developed a horrible pain in my left heel, diagnosed as Plantar fasciitis by the podiatrist. I had to stop walking and I started swimming–actually floating with a noodle–in the ocean, or swimming in the building pool if I was on my own or with only two or three people. Now I bought a foot peddler and use it while watching TV at night.

Life has changed so drastically. I miss hugging my grandchildren. I don’t even see the Chicago grandkids. I miss seeing my friends and our Saturday evening dinners in a restaurant or at each other’s place. I miss shopping at the mall or my favorite stores. After gaining fifteen pounds during this pandemic, my wardrobe is reduced to a pajama with elastic band and a t-shirt. I miss wearing dresses, jewelry, makeup. And oh God, how I miss going on cruises! I don’t think I’ll ever feel comfortable in a plane or a cruiseship again.

Unfortunately, we lost too many relatives during the last six months, two to the Covid-19 and several to strokes, heart problems, and even a goal bladder inflamation, all not treated on time for fear of going to the hospital. I was tested once for Covid-19 when I had a cold in July and was so relieved the results were negative.

Now I live day by day. It’s too depressing to remember the easy-going life from before Pandemic and too scary to think about the future. As long as I can swim, use my peddler, cook and write, I count my blessings.

I just uploaded four new books, funny stories and heart-warming romance that will cheer you up. They are on pre-order:

His Son, Her Daughter: High school sweethearts reunited after twenty years by their small children. Their conflicting baggage prevents them from fully trusting each other. Yet what wouldn’t Daniel do for his son and her daughter? https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08HKPNRWH

To be RELEASED on Septenber 23, 2020

Sunshine Over Snow: When his children manage to ruin his second wedding, Brad is caught between a furious fiancée and an offended ex-wife, both determined to keep him and make him pay for his mistakes. https://www.amazon.com/DP/B08HHNSSSK

To be RELEASED on October 14, 2020

Half a Dozen with Love: At twenty, Tammy is left with the responsibility of five brothers and sisters. Dr. Jack Conan stops the Foster Care system from separating the children, but his unorthodox solution may complicate Tammy’s problems—or bring her into his arms? https://www.amazon.com/DP/B08HKQSRYC

To be RELEASED on December 2, 2020

Between Babies and Girlfriends:Abandoned baby twins, a former girlfriend, an almost fiancée complicate Dr. Brian Dutton’s life to no end.

To be RELEASED on February 11, 2021

Identity Crisis #amwriting #life #mgtab

close up of hand over white background

Photo by Lum3n.com on Pexels.com

 

Lately, I’ve been questioning my ability as a writer and it’s left me feeling lost and depressed.

Do you ever doubt yourself?

I think it began with the big change in our lives this summer. As many of you know, my daughter and grandson have moved over six thousand km away so she can continue with her dream to become a marine biologist.

While I’m incredibly proud of her, it’s also left a big gap in my days. I’m used to being there for my grandson, often picking him up for lacrosse or hockey or swimming practice.

He’s a key part of our lives and we are lost without him.

I’m empty inside and find it increasingly hard to put words on the page. I hope this is a short term thing, I mean it’s not like I can’t text or FaceTime him whenever I want. But, it’s not the same, either.

I’ve been working on a holiday novella for our Love, Christmas 2 collection set around the theme of our favorite holiday movies. Mine is Mistletoe Inn, taken from the Hallmark® movie, The Mistletoe Inn.

Here’s a short preview

 

For my story I’ve adapted the inn as more of a bed and breakfast with my hero as a scarred, bitter loner that the heroine, Molly McCarty, falls in love with.

 

MistletoecoverLG

 

Molly McCarty has picked up roots and traveled across the country to run a bed and breakfast with a sweet-sounding old lady. Imagine her surprise when her partner turns out to be a surly, way-to-handsome recluse. It’s too late to back out now, she’ll have to mend his lonely heart in time for the holidays.

 

I’m enjoying this heartwarming tale, but it’s also making me realize Christmas won’t be the same this year.

What do you do to get rid of the blues?

 

Don’t forget to enter our name that title contest- ending soon!

 

ONLY $0.99 for 25 BRAND NEW Stories

Never Before Published Holiday Romances

Pre Order Your Copy Today

Amazon – Nook – Kobo

The Christmas Movie (Box Collection) Contest

  1. Twenty-five winners will have their favorite movie chosen as the title. (Slight changes due to copyrights may be made.)
  2. That particular story will be dedicated to the winner.
  3. The winners will receive a free copy of the ebook or a free copy of whichever book you choose from your author’s backlist..

 

 

DEDICATED 2 Facebook(1)

Enter Here!

Hurricane Irma by Mona Risk

For days we watched TV and prayed that Hurricane Irma would not come toward Florida. Twelve years ago, I survived Hurricane Wilma and watched the devastation it inflicted to South Florida and my building: broken windows, snatched shuttered, cars smacked on top of each other, uprooted trees. We were left without electricity and water for a week and spent a year repairing the damage.

The mandatory evacuation order annihilated our hope to avoid the hurricane path. Evacuating was a big hassle.

Not sure if we should leave–to go where?

The airports were crowded with stranded tourists trying to go home. The three airports within a two-hour distance responded with a “sold-out”. We couldn’t just take the car and drive north, and risk being stuck for hours on a cluttered highway.

In addition, I was dealing with a fractured kneecap and a big brace to wear 24/7 and had trouble riding in a car for hours. At first, we decided to stay and brace ourselves to cope with the hurricane.

We stocked on water and food, and filled the car with a full tank. Remembering that big buildings can shake under the impact of high winds, we removed frames from walls and delicate bibelots from shelves.

Not sure if we should stay here. We live on the beach–first line of defense.

I spent hours researching Google for “How safe are high rises during hurricanes?” High rises are built to sustain 185 mph wind. The safest place is the stairs, completely built in steel and concrete. The safest apartments are those on the 7th to 10 th floors. Floors higher that the 20 th are exposed to horrible wind. Floors lower than the 6th face the risk of flood and flying objects.

We live on the 22 th floor. Back to watching Irma’s news. The Governor of Florida urged us several times to leave: “We can replace your material possessions. We can’t replace lives.”…”If you live in a mandatory evacuation zone and don’t leave, you will be stuck on your own. No one can access your place. The bridges will be open and we won’t answer an emergency call.”

Enough to scare the heck out of us.

Our daughter insisted we should stay with her family. All our friends in high-rises on the beach were staying home, claiming that these buildings are 50 years old, quite sturdy and have survived their share of hurricanes in previous years. Praying for their safety and for Irma to get lost over the ocean.

On Friday morning, we drove to our daughter’s house, an hour away, northwest from our high-rise on the beach. It was good to be with family. Surprisingly I-95 had little traffic that morning. The calm before the tempest.

The house was all shuttered and we had electricity. We couldn’t see what was going on outside, but we could hear the noise, the wind, the rain. Strident alarms on my cell phone alerted us to the danger of tornadoes and raised panic in my heart. My grandchildren decided they needed a break from bad news and made us watch eight Harry Potter movies over three days.

And we survived Hurricane Irma.

On Monday morning, we welcomed the sun and nice breeze and opened the doors for a peek outside. Fallen branches in the driveway and yard. A few broken or uprooted trees. My son-in-law cleaned the driveway.

In our area the bridges were now accessible and the elevators of our building functioning. We returned home. At the entrance of our evacuated zone, police cars patrolled to protect us from looters and asked for ID to check that we lived in this area.

Our hurricane high impact windows resisted the strong wind. No leaks. I sent a thank you note to the man who did a great job on the installation ten years ago. Many of our neighbors had to cope with buckets of water leaking under the windows or from the sides.

We stayed without TV and Wi-Fi for three days. The Comcast box supplying the building was smashed during the hurricane.

All in all we are grateful we survived without damage. Others were less lucky in Miami, Fort Meyers and the Keys.

Thank you for your prayers and support.

A BRIDE FOR PRINCE PAUL                                                                                           

Bittersweet September #mgtab

Ah, September - quote by Peggy Toney HortonSeptember, with its summery days, but foggy mornings and chilly nights, is a bittersweet month for me.

It always feels like both a fresh start—no doubt because of all my years as a student—and an obvious, undeniable end of a season. This year the contrast seems extra poignant.

I’m about to launch a new story into the world, plus I’m excited and gearing up for new writing projects, yet other things that have kept me busy the past few months are slowing down.

My flowerbeds appear to be at the height of their glory, but a closer look reveals the beginning of their end, softening stalks, a gentle wilting, the slightest touches of brown on the edges and undersides of leaves. . . . The balmy air carries a cool undertone, and if a breeze kicks up, it has bite. The forest and grassy areas around my home hold the lightest scent of earthy dampness and decay. The toads are on the move. . . .

I’m excitedly anticipating the birth of my second grandbaby, who’s due any day—and my own wonderful grandma just turned 87. She’s healthy, strong and incredibly sharp minded, and I suspect and hope she’ll be a centenarian—but can’t help thinking about new beginnings and autumn seasons, all the same.

September 2017 Yellow Rose photoI’m looking forward to cozy fall nights and preparing my garden, yard, and freezer for winter—but I’m heavily conscious of all the folks across BC, the province of Canada where I live, still in danger from, or suffering the results of, the terrible, ravishing fires that blazed out of control all summer and are still burning. Likewise, I’m sad and worried for all the people in the south, fleeing, losing everything—or being afraid that they might—in the extreme flooding and/or hurricanes that have hit (and are continuing to hit) so hard.

Jodie Esch, an author friend of mine, finished a recent blog post with this observation, “during these precarious situations in the world, isn’t it time to take a few moments out of each day, to focus on the idea of love?”

It absolutely is—and not just in this season, but in every season, those that are bitter, those that are sweet, and those that are both simultaneously.

I hope wherever this September finds you, you are safe—or on your way to safety—and surrounded by love from friends, family, or pets, with a roof over your head to shelter you, enough food to sustain you, enough clothes to keep you warm, and enough books to keep you comforted and/or entertained.