Time for Launch. You Hungry?

Thought for the day: A lot of people ask me if I were shipwrecked,and could only have one book, what would it be? I always say, "How to Build a Boat."  [Stephen Wright]

U.S.S. Mississippi christening, 2011 (Wiki)

I've never launched a boat before. Have you? That distinguished looking lady in the picture is Alison Stiller, the Deputy Assistant Secretary of the Navy, and I'll betcha SHE'S launched a lot of boats... er ... ships... before. 

But I'll betcha she hasn't launched any BOOKS. 

Okay, so I haven't launched any of THEM before either. (sigh) But there's always a first time, right? Today I'm gonna take a good swig of the champagne bottle, and add my enthusiastic voice to a bunch of other bloggers' voices to help launch a book that's being released by J. Taylor Publishing... TODAY!!! 

                                               Ready? We christen theeeee.... Make Believe!

                                     
           For REAL, may her voyage be long and joyous, and her seas be ever serene.

Pretty cover, isn't it? Make Believe is a compilation of short stories, one of which was written by Aussie blogger pal and author Lynda R. Young. Her story is called Birthright. (PSSST! Wanta peek at the blurb for her story?)

Christa can mask the pain and hide the scars, but running from a birthright is impossible. 

She’s tried to escape her grief by fleeing to a small town in Florida. Much to her frustration, the locals think they recognize her even though she's never been there before. To make things worse, a man named Jack spouts outrageous theories about her. 

Both spur Christa to bolt, to start fresh yet again, but there’s something about Jack that intrigues her enough to stay. The only problem? Someone else wants her to leave, and they won’t stop until she’s dead.  


Oooooh. Intrigued?  Wait, there's more! How's about an excerpt...?

Palms rustled overhead as Mrs. Tinder shouldered open the rickety door of Christa’s new home.

“Here we are,” the landlady said. The dark space breathed Florida’s hot air. “It’s not usually so humid here in December, but never you mind about the unseasonal heat, dear. As soon as the air-conditioning kicks in she’ll be right as rain.” Mrs. Tinder toddled over to a control panel on the wall and pressed a few buttons. A hum emanated from the walls, the lights blinked on, and the air stirred.

Busying herself around the single room cabin, Mrs. Tinder spread the drapes, straightened the cushions and opened and closed the fridge. She turned her sharp gaze on Christa. “You have family in town?”

Christa gave her a tight smile. “No, I don’t.”

“Friends, perhaps?”

She shook her head.

Mrs. Tinder’s wrinkles deepened into a frown. “You’ll be alone over Christmas?” Her pinched lips broadcast her true thoughts. No one should be alone over Christmas. It’s not right. It’s not natural.

Christa’s smile wavered. “I’ll have plenty to keep me busy.” She tapped her camera case, still hanging from one shoulder.

“Ah, a photographer.” The woman’s nod turned to a slow shake.

Christa didn’t need pity, and she didn’t need more invitations to join random family gatherings, either. To prevent further discussion, she asked, “Are there any galleries in town? Or museums?”

The woman’s face didn’t brighten. “No galleries. There’s one museum. A shack run by a man named Jack.” She grunted. “But you don’t want to go there. His displays are a load of balderdash, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Balderdash?” Christa asked in mock surprise. “A mighty strong word.”

Looking like a school principal about to pass judgment on a wayward child, Mrs. Tinder perched on a kitchen stool and leaned on the counter.

Christa regretted the tease, realizing the woman had taken it for an invitation to continue.

“Apologies for my language, dear.” Reprimand laced Mrs. Tinder’s tone. After a pause of awkward silence, she sniffed. “Mr. Jack fancies himself the town historian, but he wouldn’t know history if he fell into a dung pile of it. He snoops into family lore, delves into lost legends, and makes up stories when he can’t find nothing of no interest. Mark me, all of it’s nonsense.”

Christa nodded, though she didn’t understand at all.

“Don’t get me wrong. Jack’s a lovely boy, but he’s strayed from the path.” Mrs. Tinder peered at Christa with an appraising eye. “Perhaps a woman like you would do a young man like Jack some good.”

Christa stiffened. Matchmaking was one of the many reasons she’d left New York for the holiday season. She hadn’t expected to find it in a small town in Florida, as well.

+++

If you'd like to learn more about the other stories in this book, you can find that info here And then you can pop right on over to Amazon and order it. (Let's help this book launch make a BIG SPLASH!)

Huh? I beg your pardon? You say you didn't see me swing that bottle of champagne? Pardonez-moi, you must have misunderstood. I didn't take a swing... I took a swig. (sheesh) 

Here's to Lynda and all the other authors included in this book. SALUT!!!

 (mutter, mutter) As if I'd waste a perfectly good bottle of bubbly... besides, it'd just make the pages all soggy.

                        Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.