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:
I’m very active on Facebook and love to connect with my
readers there: www.facebook.com/authordenisehunter
DEB:
Twitter: @authordebraney
BETSY:
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.
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Winter Brides - Christianbook.com
Winter Brides: A Year of Weddings Novella Collection
- Amazon
Winter Brides: A Year of Weddings Novella Collection - Kindle
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