An Open Letter To My Father by Betsy Ashton

Let me start by saying I never celebrated Father's Day. I never bought a card, picked out a terrible tie or a pair of socks, or visited the man who was my father. Why? Because I never knew him.

My father was married to my mother for about two years, during which time I was sired and born. And while my mother was carrying me, he had another girlfriend who became pregnant about the time I was born. Needless to say, my parents separated before I was nine months old, before my half-sister arrived. You left my mother to raise me by herself with no child support, although the courts ordered it. She did a damned fine job.

My father contacted me twice, once for half a day when I was 13, again for half a day when I was 17. A card or two followed the visits, plus a weird invitation to come and live with him, his wife, and my half-sister. Why would I leave my mother, who had been my sole caregiver, for a man I didn't know? NOT!

My mother was annoyed at first when I started referring to the old man as my sperm donor. To me, that was what he was. Nothing more. I knew later how much that phrase demeaned their relationship. I'm forever sorry about it.

So, now that both my dear mother and the sperm donor are gone, I have some words for SD.

I hope you were a better father to your second daughter than you were to your first.

I hope you taught her how to play catch, played hide and seek, and did all the great dad things, like eating ice cream in a snow storm.

I hope you taught her a sense of right and wrong, gave her a strong ethical foundation, and were there for her when she needed you.

I'm sorry you were estranged from your own parents. I wasn't, because my mother kept in touch with your mother and father until I was old enough to write. I know she did. Grandfather sent me a box of her letters, cards, and photos of me. She kept me alive in their thoughts until both passed.

I'm sorry you never got to see how I turned out, but then, you would have had to keep in touch. Once Grandfather died, there was no touchstone with your side of the family until a couple of years ago when your brother's older daughter reached out. We've established a long-distance relationship, one I once wished I'd had with you.

For this Father's Day, I don't send good wishes. I don't send bad wishes. I send the same type of wishes you sent me all these years. None.

P.S. Thanks, Mom, for being the best father a girl could have. Happy Father's Day.

###

Betsy Ashton is the author of the Mad Max Mystery series, Unintended Consequences, Uncharted Territory, and Unsafe Haven. She is also the author of the stand-alone psychological suspense novel, Eyes Without A Face.

A Job Completed by Diane Burton

I know it's too early for celebrating Independence Day. I have another reason to celebrate.

Career-wise, is there a better feeling than completing a job? The satisfaction of finishing a project obscures the difficulties of getting there or the mistakes and problems along the way. I’m a list-maker because I love checking off tasks. Small satisfactions.

I’m thrilled to say that after five months, a lot of moaning, griping, and procrastinating, I finished Numbers Never Lie, a romantic suspense. Sharing snippets each weekend with the Weekend Writing Warriors has kept the story at the forefront of my mind. Never mind that my Muse nagged me endlessly to “finish the darn book.”

So, a week ago yesterday, I shipped that puppy to my editor, our own incomparable Alicia Dean. Instead of twiddling my thumbs waiting for the manuscript’s return (with lots of red markings, I’m sure LOL) I’m taking time to finish those household jobs that I’ve left slide—like folding laundry, cleaning my office, and entering my business receipts in Quicken. The most difficult aspect of that is attributing royalties to the individual books. I’m OCD like that.

With the completion of one task, another rears its head. What’s next? 

So many ideas, so little time. I want to finish two more novels this year, a science fiction romance (the fourth in my Outer Rim series) and a cozy mystery (the fourth in my Alex O’Hara series). Since I haven’t released a sci-fi romance in two years, that one will be next.

While waiting for the return of the edits, my plan is to enjoy a job completed, catch up on household chores, enjoy the lack of deadline pressure, then get started on the next book. When Numbers Never Lie is released, I'll celebrate big time. Not sure yet how. I can't drink alcohol, and chocolate is worth too many points on Weight Watchers. I'll figure out something.

Meanwhile, here’s the blurb for Number Never Lie:

A shocking secret brings danger to Jack Sinclair and his sister Maggie.

As kids, they were the fearless threesome. As adults, Jack's an accountant; Drew, a lawyer; Maggie, a teacher and camping troop leader. Upon returning from a weekend camping trip, Maggie receives horrifying news. She refuses to believe her brother Jack’s fatal car crash was an accident. If the police won’t investigate, she’ll do it herself. Convincing Drew Campbell to help is her only recourse.

Drew Campbell was too busy to return his best friend’s phone call. Too busy to attend a camping meeting important to his teen daughter. Too busy to stay in touch with Jack. Logic and reason indicate Jack’s accident was just that--an accident caused by fatigue and fog. Prodded by guilt, he’ll help Maggie even if he thinks she’s wrong.

A break-in at Jack’s condo convinces Maggie she’s right. Then someone else dies and Maggie’s home is searched. What did Jack do?

A note since tomorrow is Father's Day: A special salute to all the Dads, especially those who prove what a good father is, like the three men in my life--Hubs, Son, and Son-in-law. Great job, guys. 

A father's special love ~ by Leah St. James

Last week I had the privilege of moderating an author discussion panel at a local Barnes & Noble store. To start off the discussion, I had asked the authors to read brief excerpts from their books. One woman had written a story about what happens when a person grows up without love—specifically what happens when “babies” have babies and don’t know how to parent. 

In the scene she read, a young man (who had grown up in this loveless environment) goes to his girlfriend’s father and asks for her hand in marriage. The dad isn’t thrilled and he gives the prospective groom a tongue-lashing about how precious his daughter is to him, how he isn’t going to hand her over to just anybody.

 I wish I had taken notes and could share a quote because my description hardly comes close to the eloquence and power of the author’s passage. I almost cried. Later, during the discussion, I joked that I wished  I’d grown up with that fictional father. And I meant it.

My parents divorced when I was about four years old, and my father disappeared from our lives. My mom, my sister and I lived a pretty bare-bones existence in the “things” department, but we had an abundance of love.  

Still, I didn’t realize how the absence of a male figure in my life affected me until years later. I shied away from boys and men in general. They were foreign creatures who either ignored or deserted you.

Then I met my husband-to-be in college, and later his dad. It took a while for Dad to warm up to me – hubby kept insisting that his dad was just quiet, that it had nothing to do with not liking me. But looking back, I have to wonder if he didn’t quite approve of his son’s choice. I didn’t come with a great pedigree, or money...or much of anything but need. But he was hubby’s best man at our wedding – although hubby jokes about him saying, even as I walked down the aisle, “It’s not too late, you know.” (I’m laughing...now.)

Despite what he might have been feeling, he treated me with nothing but (QUIET) respect. But more than that, he treated me with care. I didn’t have a car back then so walked three or four blocks to work. When it snowed, even a few inches (which was almost every night in northeastern Pennsylvania where hubby and I were living at the time), Dad would pick me up from their home at least a mile away to drive me the few blocks to my job. (And they were very QUIET rides, believe me.) 

Eventually we started talking :-) and we developed our own relationship. He began to fuss when I went out by myself and got upset with his son (hubby) for not fussing. (Hubby was used to me bopping around by myself – I’d been doing it for years – but Dad was not.) At first I thought it was annoying – like he didn’t trust me to go out by myself. But then hubby explained that his dad was worried for me. 

It was the proverbial “aha!” moment. I remember feeling so special. So loved. I remember thinking, So that's what it's like to have a dad.

Dad with my sons, sharing his obsession...
uh, I mean his love of golf.

Over the years we grew very close. I was at his side during his mother's funeral (my mother-in-law couldn't be there).  He bought me maternity clothes and joined me on college trips for my sons. I sat with him during chemo treatments.

He became the dad I’d never had.

So when the author read her excerpt the other day, and I commented that I wished I had that dad growing up, I thought of my father-in-law and how blessed I was to have had him in my life.

When my sons have children, if they have daughters, I’m going to remind them just how special their grandfather made me feel even though I wasn’t really his.

Here’s to all the great dads out there who teach their daughters what it’s like to be cherished, and who make their beaux sweat, just a little, for their favor.

___________________

Leah writes stories of mystery and romance, good and evil, and the power of love. Visit her at LeahStJames.com.

Father's Day

By Jena Galifany 

Jena and Daddy 1967

In 1906, a young lady, while listening to a Mother’s day sermon, was moved to wonder why there was not a day that similarly honored fathers. After all, her own loving father had personally taken care of his children after their mother died while giving birth to the sixth child. He took on the challenge of raising his new born and its five siblings in a day when most men would have found another woman, probably a relative, to take the large brood off his hands.

Sonora Smart Dodd felt that her father deserved as much honor as mothers all over the country. After all, he had acted as father and mother to the six children. She raised support for the idea, including the YMCA and the Spokane Ministerial Association in Washington. Spokane responded by celebrating its first Father’s Day on June 19, 1910.

The idea spread and was supported through the years by President Woodrow Wilson in 1916. In 1924, Calvin Coolidge said he supported the idea, noting that it would, "establish more intimate relations between fathers and their children and to impress upon fathers the full measure of their obligations". These men supported the idea but did not make it a declared observance.

In 1966, President Lyndon Johnson made Father’s Day a presidential proclamation to be observed on the third Sunday of June. Finally, in 1972, President Richard Nixon established the third Sunday of June to be the permanent national observance of Father’s Day in the United States.

It seems that it took a long time to establish this day of honor for fathers but Sonora saw her desire to honor her loving father come to fruition. She died in 1978 at the age of 96 and will always be remembered for the love she had for her father, Mr. William Jackson Smart, Civil War Veteran and outstanding example of fatherhood.

Steve and Jen 2010

Fatherhood should be an event seriously thought out and planned. It should not be taken lightly and too often these days, it is. Fatherhood was not on the mind of a young Brian Cummings, percussionist in the ShadowsForge series. It took three years and major tragedy for him to find out. Here’s the blurb from Brian’s story:

Brian Cummings has come a long way from Leicestershire, England. Miles of hard road lay between then and now—hard road he’s kept hidden—until the nightmares begin again.

Brian Cummings

Diane Starling loves Brian. If she were not carrying his child, she’d still do anything to make him happy—even letting him go to someone else. Who is the woman in his nightly dreams? Why does she make him scream?

Valerie Leonard, journalist, dredges up history that should remain buried; history that could ruin Brian and hurt the people he loves most. Should Val keep his dangerous past to herself? Doesn’t Diane have the right to know the truth about the father of her child?
Brian and Diane fight to overcome the past, embrace the present, and build a future as they travel with ShadowsForge on “THE LONG WAY HOME.”

Review:

"ShadowsForge 4: The Long Way Home is a reader's dream. The tug of emotions I felt while reading Brian's story are a credit to Ms. Galifany as a writer. I was moved to tears on more than one occasion and besieged by frustration as life worked against Brian, Mia and Diane. Page after page I was drawn further into the lives of the characters, wanting to know what would happen next, hoping that somehow Brian's life would finally end in happiness. Ms. Galifany has woven a tale of tragedy and love that is more genuine than any I have

read in a long time. I wasn't expecting such a deeply moving story from a series devoted to a popular British rock band, but ShadowsForge 4: The Long Way Home is just such a story.If you have not read the rest of the ShadowsForge series, do not hesitate to start with The Long Way Home. Ms. Galifany has woven enough history into the story that you will quickly learn about the other members of the band and some of the interesting adventures they have had. If you are a devout ShadowsForge follower, I think you will be intrigued by the in-depth look into the past of their drummer and the secrets he's been carrying within him all this time. As for me, I'm off to find the first three volumes of the ShadowsForge series so I can hear about all those amazing adventures these bad boys of rock have had a part in." - Reviewed By Sabine Maurier, Novelspot.

Please visit my WEBSITE for excerpts from the ShadowsForge Series.

Have a wonderful day!

Cheers!

JG

Fatherhood in Romance Fiction by Alison Henderson

Tomorrow is Father's Day, and I've been thinking about it a lot lately. This will be my first Father's Day without my own father, who passed away in February at the age of 85. I miss him every day and expect tomorrow to be bittersweet, at best. However, I will also be celebrating my husband's fatherhood, which has been an ongoing source of joy to me.

The upcoming holiday has also got me thinking about the place of fatherhood in romance fiction. According to anthropologists, women are genetically predisposed to select mates with characteristics that will make them good providers and fathers (i.e. a strong, healthy male will be more likely to produce strong, healthy children, as well as being better able to provide for and protect them). Apparently, potential fatherhood is always on our minds, consciously or sub-consciously.

We may not like it, but we haven't come very far from our prehistoric ancestors in that regard. Look at some of the most popular tropes in romance novels today: secret babies, divorced or widowed mothers, ticking biological clocks. All involve choosing a mate who will also be a good father. And how many traditional historical romances end with an epilogue announcing the birth of the couple's first child?

Fatherhood was a major theme in my first book, Harvest of Dreams. Here's the blurb:

Alone on her farm in the middle of a blizzard, young widow Lisa McAllister labors to give birth to her first child.  Help arrives in the strong hands of a stranger wearing a six-gun.  Lisa has no reason to trust this man who makes a living by violence, even if he is on the right side of the law.  Men and their guns have already claimed the lives of her father, brother, and husband, and she’s determined to protect her son at any cost. 

Jared Tanner, a security agent for the stagecoach, has been on his own since he was twelve.  Against his better judgment, his feelings of protectiveness toward Lisa and her baby turn to something deeper, and he is tempted by the possibility of a family of his own. Can their tender new love survive when an act of ultimate violence threatens to tear them apart?

Their mutual attachment to Lisa's son is part of the glue that ultimately binds Jared and Lisa together. Their first kiss occurs after they've been up all night caring for the sick baby.

She heard the bed ropes creak and sensed Jared’s presence behind her, but she didn’t turn. His arms came around her from behind and crossed loosely against her ribs, cradling her in an undemanding embrace. She went still for a moment, then relaxed against him, and his arms tightened to hold her there.

“He’s better,” he said in a low voice over the top of her head.

“Yes.” She turned in his arms and leaned back to look up into his face. “He’s better, because of you. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” He stroked her cheek with rough fingers, continuing to hold her close with the other hand. “I care about him, too.”

“I know.”

For a long moment, they gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Lisa.” The word was so low and deep it sounded more like a rumble in his chest than her name. “There’s something I want, badly.”

Her eyes asked the question, but she already sensed the answer.

“I want to kiss you. I’ve wanted to all day...for weeks really. Please don’t pull away.”

The plea in his voice tore at her. That a man like Jared, who could take whatever he wanted, was asking for permission touched her. He was giving her the power to grant or refuse. He would never force her. But she couldn’t deny his need. It mirrored

her own. She couldn’t help herself; she nodded without looking away.

Fierce satisfaction swept across his face before he lowered his mouth to hers. His lips were firm and deliberate as he worked to coax a response from her.

Lisa moved her mouth, but she wasn’t sure exactly what she was supposed to do. Before he’d left for war, Dan’s kisses had been the tentative caresses of

a teenage boy. This was completely different. Jared was a man, and beyond her experience.

“Open for me. Please.” He nudged at her lips to show her what he wanted.

She was dizzy with the new sensations and did what he asked without hesitation. Immediately, his grip tightened and one hand slid up her back and buried itself in her unbound hair. He used that hand to hold her head steady as he slid his tongue into her

mouth.

The action shocked her, and she started to draw back, but his hand tightened.

“No,” he murmured raggedly.

She was overcome by a longing to give this man what he needed. She stopped struggling and forced herself to relax in his embrace. Soon the novelty of the kiss wore off, and a fire began to burn deep inside her. She discovered her arms had wound

themselves around his broad, bare back and her hands were every bit as busy as his. Her tongue refused to remain passive and wove itself around his in an ancient mating dance.

Jared made a low noise deep in his throat and slid his right hand slowly down her back. Then, as if he could stand it no longer, he pulled her hard against him. A breathless excitement gripped her. The sensations were so thrilling and so new she lost herself in the pleasure of it. Finally, he dragged his mouth away. She collapsed

against his chest, and they stood, holding each other until their heartbeats slowed and their breathing returned to normal.

Jared was the first to speak. “I’m not sorry.”

She remained silent.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he said.

Lisa pulled back and looked up, shaking her head. “It changes everything.”

“No, it doesn’t. The feelings were there before, and they’ll still be there whether we act on them or not.”

She didn’t try to deny it. “But we can’t, and it will be so much harder now.”

“That’s true. Now you know how much I want you, and I know you want me, too. I don’t know where this is going, but we have to find out.”

“I don’t want to find out.” But a small voice inside denied the words. Part of her had to know.

“I think you do, and I know I do. I’m not going to offer to leave, even though it might make some things easier, not unless you can convince me you really want me to go.” He cupped her face in both hands and searched her eyes. “Do you?”

Lisa knew she should say yes and remove the unbearable temptation of his presence, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak the lie. She shook her

head. “No.”

Jared’s lips moved in a tiny smile, then his serious expression returned. “I can’t tell you I’ll never kiss you again, or touch you, or that I won’t want to get even closer to you, but I promise I won’t press you for anything you don’t want to give. I’d never do anything to hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“Good. Now it’s time for you to get some sleep.”

He led her to the bed and tucked her in, his hands lingering as he smoothed the quilt across her. Then he leaned over her, his expression rigid and deadly serious. “I want you to know leaving you tonight is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But I want

more from you than one night in your bed.”

He closed the remaining gap between them and captured Lisa’s lips in a kiss filled with frustrated desire and a promise of things to come.

Then he was gone. 

How do you feel about fatherhood in romance novels? Do you like stories that show the hero to be good potential father material, or do you prefer the dashing, unattached, alpha heroes? Maybe your choice depends on your mood. One of the best things about our genre is the variety. We have stories to suit every time and every taste.

Alison Henderson
www.alisonhenderson.com
http://alisonhenderson.blogspot.com

REMEMBERING DAD

THAT'S MY DAD

When I was growing up, there was nobody like my dad in my eyes. As many a small young girl, I put my dad on a pedestal. Although to be honest, I had to share him and not only with my siblings. He was a basketball coach. Gosh, thinking back now bring back so many memories.

Some of my best memories surrounded his basketball games. As I said, my dad was a high school basketball coach, a pretty good one at that. He almost won National High School Basketball coach of the year twice (1977 and 1987). He holds records in Mississippi that probably won't ever be broken and he did it all by instilling a belief into players that made them into a team.

When my own children were playing sports, I was always looking for a coach like my dad...someone to inspire belief in a cause and confidence within them. My kids were never that fortunate, but to be fair there aren't many coaches like my dad.

You remember the movie Hoosiers. My dad's biggest accomplishment as a coach was kinda like that.

On March 8, 1969, New Site Royals (Class B) beat Jackson Wingfield's Falcons (AA) to win Mississippi's Grand Slam. This gave New Site the first overall crown for a team other than an AA school.  The Grand Slam was abolished in 1982 because it was deemed unfair for the advantage obviously stood with the much larger schools. (I believe they may have reinstated it- I'm not for certain). Unfortunately, I've kinda lost touch with basketball in Mississippi. What a game! I was only eight at the time, but I remember it so well. Up here in Boston, everyone lives and breathes professional sports, but let me tell you there is nothing like the high school games in Mississippi. I miss them.

To me, Dad was amazing. He won move than 80% of his games in his 29 years of coaching and more astonishing- he never had a losing record. More important than records was the man himself. He believed in his kids, teaching them more than basketball. In all his years of coaching, Coach Caveness never once cut a kid.

Dad passed away when he was only 57 of a heart attack. He never knew I began writing. My first attempt was his autobiography, really meant for his family and friends. I need to revise it to republish it. (Honestly I think he would cringe to know I wrote romance...although my love for history came from him...he was also a history teacher.)

He may be gone, but he left behind a legacy. I'll leave you with something he wrote.

Basketball

Basketball is more than a game. Basketball is hard work; endless hours of practice; driving yourself to your limit; never quitting; picking up yourself after a fall and doing it all over again; knowing and enacting your role into the best you can be; working along side your teammates to accomplish your goal; understanding you are only as good as your team; when things don't go your way or might not be fair in your view- you don't abandon your dreams; you might have to take another road to the end you hope to achieve but whatever course you choose, you never stop.


For you don't necessarily have to be the best to achieve your end, but to do your best. For when your team works in unison as such there is no limit to what that team cam accomplish.


Basketball is much more than just a game. It is more a way to live your life.

Coach Gerald Caveness

1932-1990