I’m Guesting at RomCon!

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Hi all! Today I’m guest blogging at RomCon about life, love, scars and beauty. Come by and keep me company. Learn why my newest sweet romance title, Written on Her Heart, is so dear to mine.

See you there!

 

Excerpt from Written on Her Heart
WrittenonherHeart_JL_MD

When Mom pulled the door open, she nearly leapt into my arms. Tears already streamed from her eyes. It’d been two years since I’d been home, but not even secrets formed halfway around the world were safe from our small town. The moment I pulled my rental onto Route 22, I became fair game for gossip and ghost spotting. When a train lumbered along the only set of tracks and held me up for nearly five minutes, I watched a dozen bystanders take notice. First of the car they didn’t know, and then they dipped their heads for a look at the driver. The lady in front of me yanked her mirror to the side to check her face, and her chin dropped when our eyes met. By the time I lifted Mama into my arms, she’d received no less than four phone calls announcing my arrival. So much for surprises.

She looked smaller and more fragile than I remembered. Maybe after two years in a battle zone everything did. Her thin palms gripped my cheeks tight, and she kept saying, “Welcome home,” until my eyes filled to match hers. Tears streamed over the skin on her cheeks, and I never wanted to leave. The most important thing I could protect was right there in my hands.

Emma sniffled and wiped tears as she finished the passage for the third time. Her tears dropped onto the ink. She flung her body backward onto her bed and exhaled. The imagery astounded her. She knew firsthand how it was to arrive home. Every car in town must be inventoried somewhere. She shook her head, picturing the train. How awful to be held back by something as mundane as a train when you’re coming home from war to see your mother.

A gush of air filled her lungs, and she bolted upright.

“Oh my Lord in Heaven, he’s from Honey Creek!” She looked around for someone to dance with. Grabbing the journal in one hand, she skimmed the words again though she’d practically memorized them already. Route 22. One set of tracks. His journal sat under her willow. “Wheeeee!” She scooped a pillow off her bed and spun until the floor tilted.

He was from Honey Creek.

I hope you’ll consider a trip to Honey Creek. It’s as close as Amazon.

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