WINTER BRIDES - Denise Hunter, Deborah Raney, Betsy St. Amant - One Free Book

Dear Reeders, we have a fun interview today. What could be more fun than a year of weddings? That’s exactly what Zondervan did this year, have a wedding novella per month. Now those novella’s are coming out in four collections. The first collection is Winter Brides, which released this month. And we have three of my favorite authors right here today.

Okay, how did this collection come about?

The team at Zondervan/HarperCollins had the idea and issued invitations to a dozen authors for the series.

Are these stories connected in some way?

The stories are connected by the wedding theme––each one has a wedding that takes place in the month of the title.

How does your story fit in with the others?

Each story is completely different, and not connected to the others except by the bridal theme.

Who chose the setting for this collection?

Each author chose her own setting.

What did you want the reader to take away from your story?

DENISE: Layla from A December Bride, is a home stager—she furnishes houses with props prior to putting them on the market. Just like the “before” version of her houses, Layla feels deep down as if she’s not quite enough. I hope readers come away with a fresh sense of their true value.

DEB: The theme of A January Bride is that true love can happen a second time around, and God can redeem even the tragedies of life. It sounds like a rather heavy theme, but actually the story has more humor than any book I’ve ever written. I love how comedy softens tragedy in a very tender way in this story.

BETSY: A February Bride has a strong theme of restoration—both literally in the sense of a car being restored and a wedding dress remade, but also emotionally, in regards to the heroine’s internal struggle. I hope readers find a piece of their hearts restored after reading this novella.

Readers want to get to know the authors they read. Can you tell us three things my readers probably don’t know about you?

DENISE:

1. I play drums

2. I love to travel the world.

3. I can stand on my tiptoes. Now, there’s a valuable skill.

DEB:

1. Much as I admire beautifully polished nails, I rarely get a manicure because my hands are always in garden dirt, refinishing furniture, baking, or typing.  

2. I’ve become an orchid collector! My new office has a southern exposure that has proven to be magic for growing orchids.

3. I play the piano by ear. When I took lessons as a kid, I lost my ability to play by ear, so I opted out of lessons after 3 years, and play for my own enjoyment. When our kids were small, the piano served as a wonderful stress reliever. My kids all knew if Mom was hammering out “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog” on the piano, they’d better steer clear!

BETSY:

1. I could eat chips and salsa quite happily ever day of the year.

2. I know every single word to “Ice Ice Baby” and have rapped it on stage before.

3. When I was eleven, I was nearly kidnapped in a bookstore.

Those are things even I never knew about you three. Please give us the first page of your story.

DENISE––A December Bride

Layla O’Reilly squeezed into a corner of the bustling kitchen of Cappy’s Pizzeria and leaned into the receiver.

“No, no, no. You cannot cancel on me now. The wedding’s in five hours. Five hours, Cooper.” She wound the spiral cord around her fist, a sweat breaking out on her forehead.

“Layla, I—”

“Don’t even tell me you have to work. I asked you over a month ago. You said you got the night off.”

“If you’d just let me talk. I have strep, Layla. I’m contagious. I have to be on an antibiotic for at least twenty-four hours before—”

“I’ll risk it.” She didn’t care if he had malaria. She was going to this wedding, and she was going with a date. Nothing said See, I’ve moved on like an attractive man draped on your arm.

“I feel like trash. I have a 102-degree fever and barbed wire in my throat.”

Layla took a deep breath, the familiar aromas of garlic and oregano filling her nose. She couldn’t believe this was happening. “Now that you mention it, you don’t sound so good.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know tonight’s a big deal.”

She closed her eyes. “It’s not your fault. The strep or the wedding.” She banged the receiver against her temple once, twice, three times. “I’ll bring you chicken soup tomorrow.”

DEB––A January Bride

Glancing at the chaos around her, Madeleine Houser set her coffee mug on the dining room table and shoved another packing carton out of her path. It didn’t budge. She bent over and attempted to read the smudged label. Kitchen—good china. Oh. Good thing she’d resisted the temptation to kick the box.

Maddie looked into the kitchen where cupboards gaped open, hinges naked. The cabinet doors were lined up against the wall in the empty breakfast nook. Even after four days, the smell of wet enamel stung her nostrils. The flooring couldn’t be laid until the electrician fixed the mess he’d made of the wiring. And she didn’t dare put her china in the cupboards until all that was finished.

What had her sister gotten her into? Kate’s husband had been transferred to Ohio, but with their mother in the nursing home here in Clayton, Kate had begged her to leave her beloved New York loft and move into Kate and Jed’s house on Harper Street while it was being refurbished to sell. “You can write anywhere, Maddie,” Kate had pled in her best big-sister voice. “Besides, you can sublet the loft, and just think what you’ll save on the rent.”

So here she was in Clayton, Kansas—the middle of nowhere—proving quite soundly that one could not write just anywhere.

Lugging the carton of china out of the way, she wove her way through the maze of boxes and poured another cup of coffee. She blew a long strand of dishwater-blond hair out of her eyes and slid into a dining room chair. In the midst of the piles of books and boxes and unsorted mail strewn across the table, her laptop computer glared accusingly at her.

BETSY––A February Bride

Allie Andrews couldn’t breathe, and it had nothing to do with the yards of tulle wrapped around her waist. Or the fact that the air conditioner in the crowded small-town, southern church was on the fritz again, resulting in the sporadic waving of wedding programs in front of flushed faces she’d seen when she peeked through the sanctuary window ten minutes earlier. No, her lack of breath had everything to do with the ticking clock. The literal one on the wall and the figurative one thumping an unsteady rhythm in her heart.

Married.

A bead of sweat trickled between her shoulder blades, sure to dampen the silky ivory fabric that cascaded down her back like a white-chocolate waterfall gone wrong. So wrong.

Married.

She twisted the stem of her rose bouquet and paced the faded orange carpet inside the bride’s room, her thoughts churning along with her breakfast. She slipped one heel out of her three-inch pump, anxiety tying her stomach into a knot that would make a Boy Scout proud.

Married.

It wouldn’t take much to toe off one shoe, then the other. Dig her painstakingly pedicured feet into the carpet for traction, grab the hem of this cursed dress, and just…bolt.

Better now than later, right?

Marcus. She couldn’t do that to Marcus.

But wasn’t marrying him doing him worse?

She strode to the window overlooking the gravel parking lot and stared at the onslaught of cars baking in the late September sun. It was a good turnout. Looked as if half of Beaux Creek had shown up. There were probably loads of gifts on the covered table in the reception hall by now—a forever-sentimental collection of floral-patterned china she’d rarely use, gift cards to home repair stores, and likely more than one toaster and blender. All gifts she’d have to return if she let her toes touch the carpet.

But would dividing them up in a divorce property settlement however many years down the road be any easier?

She started to turn away, then squinted at her reflection, seeing skin at her shoulder where there should be lace. Oh no…yes. She twisted for a better view. A tiny tear, right on the seam of the sleeve. Her heart stammered.

I can’t wait to read the rest of each story. Where can my readers find you on the Internet?

DENISE:

www.DeniseHunterBooks.com

I’m very active on Facebook and love to connect with my readers there: www.facebook.com/authordenisehunter

DEB:

Website: www.deborahraney.com

Blog: I blog with 9 other authors at http://www.inspiredbylifeandfiction.com

I also have a blog of novelists’ garden spots at http://novelgarden.blogspot.com

Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/deborah.raney   

Twitter: @authordebraney

Instagram: http://instagram.com/deborahraney

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/deborahraney

BETSY:

www.betsystamant.com

www.writergetsreal.blogspot.com

I’m on facebook with an author page of Betsy St. Amant and also Twitter @betsystamant

Thank you, Denise, Deb, and Betsy, for sharing this book with us. I know each of my readers will want to read this collection.

Readers, here are links to the book. By using one when you order, you help support this blog.
Winter Brides - Christianbook.com
Winter Brides: A Year of Weddings Novella Collection - Amazon
Winter Brides: A Year of Weddings Novella Collection - Kindle

Christian Book Store

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