What I Learned Resurrecting Old Books by Alison Henderson

I'm sure you all know I spent most of August preparing my first three published books for re-release. Harvest of Dreams was originally published in 2010, and A Man Like That followed in 2011. Both were substantially written in the early-to-mid 90's and were only lightly edited by the original small press. My novella The Treasure of Como Bluff was written and published in 2012, so it was much more current. However, all had languished at the bottom of the sales charts for several years. The publisher never did much to promote them, and after I moved on to writing contemporary suspense, I didn't either. I hoped if I spruced them up a bit, enrolled them in KU, and did a little advertising, I might be able to introduce them to a new cadre of readers.

First came the covers. I always loved the original cover for Harvest of Dreams, but the other two left me cold. I decided to stick to the same concepts and color schemes--I didn't want anyone who had already read the books to feel tricked into thinking these were new titles. I'm please with all three covers now.

Next, I re-edited and formatted the books for Kindle simultaneously. This was more of a challenge than I'd expected. I had saved files of each manuscript, but not in the most useful format. For Harvest of Dreams, I had a Word document (very old version) with the final edits, but it was also formatted for print instead of ebook. The final version of A Man Like That existed only in PDF. I had to convert it to Word, then find and correct all the formatting errors. Unless you've done that before, you have no idea. The Treasure of Como Bluff was easier, which was a good thing, because I'd nearly lost my mind by that point.

The most interesting part of the process was re-reading the books after so many years. I was surprised and delighted to discover how much I still loved the stories and characters. Maybe because they were historicals, they stood the test of time remarkably well. As is true of most writers, my writing style has changed over the years. I did some updating in terms of removing semi-colons and dialogue tags and toning down the sex scenes so as not to shock any of my current readers who might pick these up, but I didn't have to make any substantive changes. 

The biggest problem with re-issuing old titles is all the previous reviews disappear. I put both Harvest of Dreams and A Man Like That up free during Labor Day weekend in hopes of stirring up a few reviews. We'll see how that works out. 

As for me, I'm glad to have accomplished my goal for the summer and ready to move on to new projects. First up: my ROP Christmas short story. I've written the first section, and I think it's going to be a cute one. My next project is going to be a new series about three artist sisters living in the Carmel area. I'm still working on the overall concept and tone for that. 

Onward and upward! 

Alison
www.alisonhenderson.com

A Patchwork Summer and a Re-release by Alison Henderson

This summer has been a patchwork affair for me. Since Undercover Nanny released Memorial Day weekend, I haven't written a single new word. I have, however, flown to Chicago twice to help my daughter house-hunt and then work on her new place once she bought it. I stayed for a week, toting, scrubbing, buying, etc. before flying home. OG, bless him, stayed for a second week. He replaced all the outlets and switches, installed a new kitchen faucet and garbage disposal, rehabbed a gigantic pair of old bookcases, and painted, painted, painted. 

AND we're going back in a couple of months to try to finish everything he didn't manage to accomplish on the last visit. He may never be the same, but by golly, his baby is going to live in a palace!

I have spent a little time mulling over the first book in my next series, and made a few preliminary decisions, but most of my spare time has been devoted to re-editing and formatting my first three books in preparation for re-launching them.

I first started writing Harvest of Dreams and A Man Like That in the early 'nineties, when Western historical and prairie romance were going strong. The popularity of those genres has waned, but these stories remained close to my heart. The books had long since stopped selling with the original small press, but with what I've learned in five years as an indie author, I hoped I could bring them to a new set of readers. As I worked my way through the re-edits, I was thrilled to discover I love the characters and stories just as much as when I first wrote them.

I'm delighted to announce I re-released the first book, Harvest of Dreams, last Friday! As of Monday afternoon, I'd had two sales and four KU downloads with complete reads. That's more people reading this book than during the entire past couple of years, so I'm happy. This book is more serious, more emotional, more romantic, and sexier than anything I've written recently, but I hope it will strike a chord with readers who are looking for that type of read. 

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?

I'm half-way through the re-edits of A Man Like That, so if I keep my nose to the grindstone, I might be able to get it out there by the weekend. Wish me luck!

Alison
www.alisonhenderson.com

New Life in Old Books? by Alison Henderson

I've just sent a request to the publisher of my first three books, requesting reversion of my rights. They're lovely people, and I'll always be grateful for the first magical contract that set me on the road to being a published author. I learned a great deal about writing and the publishing business, but it's time to say goodbye. It's probably costing the publisher more to keep theses titles on their records than they're making in profit.

The books are classic, old-school, historical Americana romances--a sub-genre I no longer write--and haven't sold many copies in the last few years. The publisher never did any real promotion or marketing, and I haven't paid any attention to them since I switched writing gears. I've focused my efforts on my humorous romantic suspense novels instead.

However, I think there may be life left in these earlier titles. I've recently finished editing and formatting the first book, Harvest of Dreams, and was thrilled to discover it was in pretty good shape. Better yet, I loved it! The only real editing I did was to tone down the love scenes a a bit. They're still much spicier than what I write now, but they fit the characters and story, so they're staying. I hope to find the second book, A Man Like That, in similar condition. The third book is a cute, short novella that should require very little work.

The main upside to owning the rights, besides retaining the lion's share of the royalties, is the ability to advertise with AMS, offer occasional free promotions, etc. I believe there is still an audience for Western historical romance, albeit a smaller one than for other sub-genres. All I have to do is figure out which authors are popular and target my ads to their readers. With luck, I'll sell a few copies from time to time.

After finishing the formatting, I took a little time to design new covers. I wanted them to be eye-catching but resemble the original covers closely enough not to confuse readers into thinking they're new releases. (I'll also make it clear they're re-releases on the copyright page and in the book description.) Since the sub-genre was never particularly clear, I decided to add the text "Historical Romance from the Heartland" to the covers. It will also appear on the Amazon page as the series title.

What do you think?


Look for them sometime later this summer!

Alison
www.alisonhenderson.com 

Every Rebel Needs a Cause by Alison Henderson

In the movie Rebel Without a Cause, James Dean played the quintessential, disaffected, bad boy anti-hero. This worked for a lot of women, but it didn’t work for me. To me, a rebel without a cause seems small and sad. He’s angry, but without focus or a plan. Every hero needs a cause. He needs something beyond himself that he believes in strongly enough to fight for, whether it’s saving the galaxy, catching the bad guys, or protecting his family.

I understand scarred characters and heroes in need of redemption. But even though they may lick their wounds in private, they should strive to overcome them in order to carry on the fight—whatever it may be. In fiction, as in real life, I don’t have much patience with whiners. I’ve read romances with heroes so dark they bordered on psychopathic. That does not turn me on. I like heroes who are essentially positive. They may be wounded and discouraged, but they never give up. They have a cause.

The heroes in my books tend to be protectors, because that’s a trait I like in a man. Jared Tanner in Harvest of Dreams is a security agent for a stagecoach line – a classic Western lawman. Morgan Bingham in A Man Like That is just the opposite, but he’s still a protector. A former member of Quantrill’s Raiders, he’s an outlaw on the run, yet he’s still willing to sacrifice everything, including the life he wants with the heroine, to take care of his family. In Unwritten Rules, Carter Devlin is a retired CIA agent who will face any enemy when his mother and grandmother are threatened.

Protectors can be found on both sides of the law. They don’t have to follow external societal rules, but they must follow their own internal rules. Rogues and rebels make wonderful heroes, but like all heroes, they need a cause.

What’s your favorite type of hero?

Alison

www.alisonhenderson.com

http://alisonhenderson.blogspot.com

We All Need a Friend

Is anyone else old enough to remember the lyrics of Carole King’s brilliant song “You’ve Got a Friend”? Here’s the first verse:

When you're down and troubled
And you need some loving care
And nothing, nothing is going right
Close your eyes and think of me
And soon I will be there
To brighten up even your darkest night

The song is a deeply-felt tribute to the kind of friendship we all need—supportive, unquestioning, and enduring. The final verse sums it up perfectly:

You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I'll be thereYou've got a friend

Are you one of those people who seem to make friends everywhere they go? If so, rejoice in your gift. I’m a classic introvert, so I’m more comfortable with fewer, deeper friendships. My college roommate is that kind of friend. We can tell each other anything, and even if we don’t see each other for years, we can pick up where we left off without missing a beat.

In a remarkable twist of fate, her son and my daughter ended up attending the same university five years apart. Last quarter, her son unwittingly signed up for a course my daughter was teaching. Talk about serendipity. (I knew he would be a stellar student because his mother would kill him if he tried to goof off!) The most gratifying consequence of this coincidence was  the opportunity to spend time with my roommate and her husband several times during the past four years while we visited our children. Since we live on opposite coasts and she hates to fly, our times together are precious.

I believe women’s friendships are very special. We support each other in ways men can’t always understand. So it was only natural for me to give Lisa McAllister, the heroine of my book Harvest of Dreams, the best kind of friend. Jessamine Randall is one of those characters who storm into a story and grab it by the horns. She’s feisty, determined, and fiercely loyal. She refuses to allow her friend to settle for less than she deserves. And by the end of Harvest of Dreams, I knew she had to have her own story. I hadn’t planned to write a sequel, but Jessy, the daughter of the town judge, had fallen in love with an outlaw, and I couldn’t simply leave her to her own devices. She needed help to tame A Man Like That.

Have you ever had a secondary character demand his or her own book? Do you enjoy reading about friendships? Do you like to include them in your own stories?

Alison Henderson

www.alisonhenderson.com

http://alisonhenderson.blogspot.com

Wedding Redux by Alison Henderson

Don’t you just love a good wedding? I love weddings so much that my second book, A Man Like That, begins and ends with two weddings—of the same couple—five months apart.

The opening lines explain why:

Weston, Missouri

October, 1866

            Clusters of yellow chrysanthemums glowed on the altar. Organ music piped in the background. Wedding guests murmured in the sanctuary. Every detail was perfect, except one.

            Hoops swaying beneath her ivory silk gown, Jessamine Randall paced the length of the tiny anteroom of the Weston Baptist Church clutching the mass of limp threads that had once been her favorite lace handkerchief. Every few steps, she paused to bat at the lone copper curl that escaped its pin and dangled in front of her nose.

            Back and forth, Jessy marched past the other two occupants of the room without acknowledging their presence. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and turned her head toward the door. The muffled din of the guests in the sanctuary had grown to a jabbering chorus. She stopped pacing.

            Where in heaven’s name was Morgan?

You guessed it. She’s been stood up at the altar. Now some young women might withdraw into seclusion to lick their wounds, but not Jessy. She takes off alone in the middle of the night, headed deep into the Ozark Mountains in pursuit of the ex-outlaw she knows is her perfect match, even if he refuses to admit it.

She catches up with Morgan, but he resists because he believes Jessy is much too good for a man like him. She eventually gives in to frustration and discouragement and returns to her parents. When Morgan realizes what he’s lost and comes after her, she initially refuses him.

            He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “You’ve been trying to bully me since the day I first laid eyes on you.”

            She wriggled against his embrace. “I have—”

            “—and I expect you to keep it up every day for the rest of our lives. His lips came down on hers, silencing her protest. They lingered and caressed, promised and enticed.

            “I love you, Jessy,” he whispered next to her ear. “I fought it, but you’ve known all along, haven’t you?”

            “I was afraid I might be wrong.” Her response was breathless because he was kissing the soft skin of her neck beneath her ear.

            “You were wrong, wrong to fall in love with a worthless, no-good outlaw like me. But you were never wrong about my feelings for you. Never….Jessy, I was nothing before I met you. I was less than nothing. If there’s any good in me at all, it’s because of you. You make me want to be more than I’ve ever been. I want to be good, good enough for you.”

I ask you, what woman wouldn’t want to hear that? Of course, Jessy is persuaded and they marry the next day.

I read romance for the happily-ever-after endings, and I write it for the same reason. As a reader, I feel that some authors give the ending short shrift, almost as if it’s a given so why bother. I like to take my time with the conclusion. After all, by that time, the reader has been through hundreds of pages of ups and downs with the characters. Everyone (including me!) deserves to savor their final happiness. And how better to do that than with a wedding?

Alison

www.alisonhenderson.com

http://alisonhenderson.blogspot.com

The SPOOKIEST scene from A Man Like That by Alison Henderson

I don't write horror; I don't even write what most readers would consider suspense. The problem is, I'm a chicken. When I write a scene, I'm always deeply present. I see, hear, smell, and feel every detail along with my characters. And I hate to scare myself.

In order to write the following scene from my post-Civil War historical, A Man Like That, I had to allow (i.e. force) myself to experience three of my hot-button fears: heights, caves, and being overpowered.

In this excerpt, Morgan and Jessy are searching for his pregnant sister, who has run away:

He reached back. “Take my hand. I’ll go first. The trail gets steep up ahead, with lots of loose rock underfoot.”

She entrusted her small hand to his and followed him. Morgan was right. A few yards into the woods, the trail began a steep descent toward the rushing cataracts of the river. The trees barely muffled the splashing sounds of water racing over rocks, fallen tree trunks, and any other impediments nature had the nerve to throw in its path. Several times her feet slipped on loose pebbles, but Morgan’s strong grip held her upright.

“Where are the caves?” she asked, trying to subdue her panic. The incline was so steep it seemed they were sliding down the face of a tree-covered cliff.

“The caves are above the river on this side.” He squeezed her hand. “We’re almost there.”

They skittered down another short section of trail before coming to rest on a ledge of solid rock. The sounds of the water were very close now. Hesitantly, Jessy stepped toward the edge of the rock ledge and peered over. About twenty feet below, the river coursed through the wide gorge it had carved in the rock. An unfamiliar fear of heights assailed her at the sight of the sheer drop, and she jumped back.

Morgan clasped her hand, drawing her toward him. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.”

“That’s very reassuring,” she replied, trying to sound unconcerned as she regained her footing.

He tugged her hand. “The caves are over here.”

She turned to follow but stopped short when she spotted the gaping black maw in the side of the hill. A prickly chill raced up her arms. The dusky mouth of the cave was ominous enough, but the striped limestone walls soon disappeared into an inky blackness that appeared to descend straight to the center of the earth. She held back at the entrance. “How can you search in there? It’s too dark to see anything.” She tried to mask her anxiety with logic. “There might be

animals in there, a bear or something.”

“What’s the matter? Lost your nerve?”

His teasing voice raised her hackles. She jerked her hand from his grasp. “It just seems like a waste of time if we can’t see.”

Morgan slid the small pack off his shoulder. “Unlike you, I came prepared. I brought a candle.” He struck a match.

She crossed her arms. “I’ll wait for you here.”

He reached out a long arm, snagging her elbow and pulling her with him toward the cave. “You’ll be safer with me. You’re more likely to be eaten by a bear out here, anyway. It’s too early for the bears to hibernate. They’re out hunting for food, fattening up for the winter.”

At his mention of bears, Jessy grudgingly ceased her resistance. She had managed to avoid meeting a        bear for twenty-one years, and she didn’t want to  spoil her record this morning. At least Morgan was armed if they should encounter any hungry wildlife.

The entrance of the cave was tall enough to stand in. She glanced at the rock walls lit by the candle’s yellow glow. Strange markings and drawings covered the walls, and the ceiling near the entrance had been blackened by smoke. She shivered. “Someone’s been here, but I don’t

think it’s Sally.”

“These caves have been used as long as there have been people in these hills,” Morgan replied. “Those drawings were made by the Indians long before white men moved into this part of the country, maybe even before they came to America. Since the Indians left, the caves have been used to hide all sorts of things. Caleb and his friends used to hide whiskey and counterfeit money here.”

“Well, Sally’s not here, so I think we should go back outside.”

“I want to check a couple of smaller chambers in the back. I might be able to tell if she spent the night here.”

He held the candle closer to the back wall, and Jessy saw a smaller opening, just big enough to crawl through. Her heart began to pound, and she couldn’t seem to draw a full breath. “If you think I’m going through that hole, you can think again.”

He crouched near the entrance to the smaller chamber. “You want to stay out here by yourself?”

“I’m not moving from this spot. If a bear comes, I’ll scream. I promise.”

He cocked a brow. “Suit yourself. I won’t need my rifle, so I’ll leave it with you. Try not to shoot yourself.” With that ringing vote of confidence, he laid the weapon on the floor of the cave and disappeared through the hole, taking the candle with him.

Although her eyes had partially adjusted to the dim light, Jessy inched back toward the entrance. If she stayed just inside the mouth of the cave, she would be keeping her promise, but she would also be able to see out and breathe fresh air. Maybe that would help fight the feeling that the walls and ceiling were closing in on her.

Suddenly, the light dimmed, and a dark outline filled the entrance, the outline of a man with a gun. Jessy gasped. With a speed belying his size, the man reached in, grabbed her, and clamped a filthy hand over her mouth, stifling her cry. She struggled in his grasp, but he was huge, huge and unkempt and as malodorous as fetid swamp water.

“Stop wiggling,” he growled low in her ear. He pinched his meaty fingers together for emphasis, grinding her soft inner cheeks into her teeth. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and she fought harder. She struggled to form sounds in her throat. She had to make some kind of noise. She had to warn Morgan.

“Shut up and hold still, or I’ll have to knock your head into the wall,” the giant threatened. He lifted her off her feet and made a motion to follow through on his words. Jessy stopped struggling. She couldn’t do Morgan any good if she were unconscious or dead.

“We’re going to wait here quiet-like ’til he comes out,” her captor whispered. His hand pinched tighter, and her eyes watered from the pain.

“You understand?” he asked.

She nodded the best she could. Who was this monster, and what did he want? He must have watched them enter the cave, because

he obviously knew Morgan was with her and intended to capture him, too.

“There’s no sign of her here, but I did find a sizeable stash of corn liquor.” Morgan’s voice echoed from the smaller chamber.

Jessy struggled and tried to cry out, but the hand across her mouth tightened brutally.

“I wonder if it’s part of Ethan’s supply,” Morgan continued. His head reappeared through the opening.

At that moment, Jessy gave a sudden, sharp kick backward into the shin of the man who held her, catching him by surprise.

“Yeooww!” he howled, but his grip remained as

tight as ever.

Morgan’s hand shot forward toward the rifle he’d left on the floor of the cave.

“Drop it, Bingham, and come on out of there,” the monster growled. “I got your lady friend here, if that’s what you call this hellcat in pants. If you want to make sure she don’t get hurt no worse, you’ll come out real careful-like.”

What about you? Do you like to be scared when you're reading, or writing? What scares you most?

Alison

www.alisonhenderson.com

What Happens Next? by Alison Henderson

This month we’re talking about where writers get their ideas. Every story is born from bits and pieces lifted from life or conjured by the imagination, but my second book, A Man Like That, followed a different path from my first because it’s a sequel.

When I plotted Harvest of Dreams, I had no thought of writing a sequel. I was thrilled just to write a complete book that made sense and I loved, but about halfway through, something surprising happened. Two of the secondary characters grabbed me by the throat and wouldn’t let go. Their romance appeared to resolve at the end of the first book, but by then I knew them too well to be fooled into thinking their relationship could ever go that smoothly. I had to write their story to find out what happened next.

Many experienced writers have written helpful articles about how to plan a sequel or series—how to construct charts to keep the details straight and plan an overall story arc. In my ignorance, I did none of those things. As it turned out, I didn’t need to. Jessy and Morgan had become so alive to me I had no trouble picking their story up where it left off at the end of Harvest of Dreams.

Two things made that easier. First, I started A Man Like That immediately after finishing the first book when every element of the story was still fresh in my mind, and second, I took my characters into a completely different setting so very few details had to be carried over. A couple of the main characters from the first book appeared at the beginning of A Man Like That and again at the end to help tie the stories together, but the main body of this book belongs strictly to Jessy and Morgan.

The setting I chose for A Man Like That is also a bit unorthodox. You don’t see many historical romances set the Ozark Mountains in southern Missouri, but there’s a personal connection for me. My husband’s family is from that area, and I had lots of fun incorporating some of their speech patterns into the book. One of my mother-in-law’s favorite threats when my husband was growing up was “You’d better watch it or I’m going to jerk a knot in your tail”. I had to borrow that one; it’s perfect for so many situations, don’t you think?

Here’s the blurb for A Man Like That:

Jessamine Randall, fearless crusader and champion of the downtrodden, is not a woman to be left waiting at the altar.  When her fiancé disappears hours before their wedding, the ever-resourceful Jessy hatches a plan to track him down and bring him back where he belongs.

Morgan Bingham knows he’s no good.  Never has been.  Never will be.  A former outlaw is no fit husband for the only daughter of the town judge, despite her misguided notions.  Besides, after ten long years away from home, it’s time to return to the hills and face his demons.

Ill-prepared, but armed with unshakeable certainty, Jessy follows Morgan to his family’s cabin deep in the Ozark Mountains where she’s sucked into a whirlpool of deep secrets and old hatreds.  While she struggles to bring light and hope into their dark lives, her greatest challenge is Morgan himself.   Can she ever convince him he’s worthy of love?

Today I’m giving away a free print copy of A Man Like That to one lucky commenter.  If you’d like to be entered in the drawing, just include your email address in your comment.

Alison

www.alisonhenderson.com

Allow Me to Introduce Jessamine Randall by Alison Henderson

Actions may speak louder, but often the best way to get to know someone is through her own words, so today we’ll pose a number of revealing questions to Jessamine Randall, the leading lady of my western historical romance, A Man Like That.

So who IS Jessamine Randall?  Describe yourself in 100 words or less.

Please call me Jessy.  Only my parents call me Jessamine, and it always makes me feel I’m about to be scolded.  Not that I ever do anything worth being scolded for, of course.  It’s just that my mother can be so all-fired proper.  Now let’s see…one hundred words.  I don’t think I can possibly restrict myself to one hundred words, so I’m not even going to try. 

I’m the only child of the town judge in Weston, Missouri.  Some might call me spoiled, but I prefer strong-minded.  When I see something that needs doing, I do it.  At the start of the recent disastrous War Between the States, my parents sent me to Philadelphia to keep me as far from the fighting as possible.  Little did they imagine I would take up the abolitionist cause and return to Weston to establish a Freedman’s Bureau school for the children of former slaves.  That set my mother’s social circle on their collective ears, I don’t mind telling you.

You sound as if you enjoy being a bit of a rebel.  However, like it or not, we are often products of our past.  Can you share one happy memory?

Although I may complain about my mother’s elevated notions of propriety, I actually had a lovely childhood.  Some of my favorite memories are of wonderful Christmas celebrations filled with parties, presents, and treats prepared by our cook.  I also have my own horse, Princess, who has carried me on many an adventure and a best friend to share my secrets.  I wish everyone could be as fortunate.

How about your romantic past? 

In the years before the war, I never had the time or inclination for romance.  So much to do; so little time.  Besides, I’ve known all the boys in Weston since we could walk, and none of them is very interesting.

What about now? We know there’s a special man in your life, so tell us about him.  

Morgan Bingham, now there’s an interesting man.  Above all, he’s a survivor.  He had a miserable childhood, was wounded in the war, and when I first met him, he was riding with the Jesse James gang.  He says he gave it up because of me, and naturally, I believe him.  When he risked his life to pull me out of my burning schoolhouse after some vigilantes set it on fire, I knew he was the man for me.  Unfortunately, he didn’t recognize his destiny right away, so I was forced to follow him all the way to his family’s cabin in the Ozarks to persuade him. 

What do you like most about Morgan?  And what do you like least?

Morgan Bingham is the most selfless man I’ve ever met.  He puts everyone else’s needs ahead of his own.  In fact, he won’t even admit he has needs.  He also refuses to acknowledge he’s worthy of love or even comfort.  His attitude really brings out the redhead in me.  All I want to do is make life better for him and his family.  Is that such a crime? 

Also, by now, you’ve probably guessed I enjoy lively conversation, so imagine my frustration with a man who’s stubborn as a Missouri mule and talkative as a rock!

Thanks for stopping by.  We know you’re a busy woman.  Is there anything you'd like to add before getting back to work?

I’d like to thank you for inviting me to visit today.  There’s nothing I like better than a good chat.  If you’d like to understand why Morgan makes me so crazy, you can read a bit of our story below.

Here’s an excerpt from A Man Like That:

Jessy took a step forward and slid her arms beneath his jacket and around his waist. “Now aren’t you going to kiss me?”

He grabbed her wrists and threw her hands off him as if she harbored a dread disease.

“Are you sure you don’t want to kiss me?” she persisted. “Aren’t you glad to see me?” Her seductive tone was pure torture.

Morgan scowled and didn’t answer. He had no intention of answering the first question and wasn’t sure about the second. At the moment, it required every ounce of strength and resolve he had to keep from jerking her into his arms and taking everything she offered and more.

He stared down at Jessy’s face in the flickering firelight. Her sparkling eyes beckoned him. Her moist lips parted in invitation. But the same fresh innocence that had always stopped him held him back again.

He could take what he wanted; he knew it. There was no one around to stop him, and Jessy wouldn’t resist. She was crazy enough to think she loved him.

           It would be so easy to give in, so easy to forget the past and the future for a few sweet hours in her arms, to forget their differences and lose himself in the generosity of her love. But he couldn’t do it. To take her and leave her would be to steal something more precious than her virginity. He would be stealing the bright fire that formed the essence of her, the fire that had drawn him from the beginning. As much as he wanted her, he prayed for the strength to resist her.

If you'd like to read more of Jessy and Morgan’s story, contact me through my website to be entered in a drawing for a free print copy of A Man Like That!

Alison Henderson

http://www.alisonhenderson.com

Just Who is Morgan Bingham, Anyway? by Alison Henderson

Inquiring minds want to know, so today we’ll pose a number of revealing questions to Morgan Bingham, hero of my western historical romance, A Man Like That.

So who IS Morgan Bingham?  Describe yourself in 100 words or less.

Ex-Confederate guerilla, ex-outlaw.  I’m a man of few words, a hard man who’s lived a hard life.  I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but I aim to put all that behind me and return to my roots in the Ozark Mountains.  If only that little red-haired wildcat will let me … 

Like it or not, a man is often the product of his past.  What is one happy memory you have?

I don’t have many good memories of growing up.  My family was dirt poor trying to scrape a living out of the rocky hillsides.  And my Pa … well, I won’t go into that.  Leastwise not with ladies present.  Without a doubt, my strongest memory is the first time I saw Miss Jessamine Randall coming down the staircase at her best friend’s house.  I felt like I’d been struck by lightning.  She asked me to escort her to her buggy.  As I said, I’m a man of few words, and on that occasion the few I have deserted me completely.  Holding Jessy’s hand was like touching a live flame.  If I saw her every day for the rest of my life, I’d still never forget that first time.

How about your romantic past? 

There was no such thing as “romance” in my life.  Before I left home for the army, life in the hills was lonely.  The only time I saw anyone outside the family was when I drove to town for supplies every couple of months.  The proper ladies seemed just as scared of me as I was of them, and Camdenton was too small to have the other kind.   Of course, I did manage to spend an evening or two with a soiled dove over the years, but I don’t believe you could count that as “romance”.

What about now? We know there’s a special lady in your life, so tell us about her.

Jessy Randall is the daughter of the town judge in Weston, Missouri.  She’s beautiful and too spirited by half.  A real do-gooder.  Always interfering.   Always trying to save someone, even if they can’t be saved.  She ran the Freedman’s Bureau school until a gang of cowards burned it down, and she was too stubborn to admit defeat even as the flaming rafters crashed down around her.  I breathed in so much smoke pulling her out of that fire I ended up spending nigh on to three weeks in bed over at the doc’s.  Big mistake.  While I was laid up, Jessy got the notion to marry me.  Now I couldn’t let her do that—not a fine lady like her and a no-good outlaw like me.  As soon as I could draw a full breath, I lit out there fast.

What do you like most about Jessy?  And what do you like least?

That’s two sides of the same coin.  I admire her determination, but her stubbornness makes my blood boil.  She’s big-hearted, but sometimes her generosity looks an awful lot like meddling.  I guess you could say she riles me up, for better or worse.  She’s a force to be reckoned with, that’s for certain.

Thanks for stopping by.  We know you’re a busy man.  Is there anything you'd like to add before getting back to work?

 I’d like to thank you for inviting me to visit today.  I’ve never been too comfortable in the presence of ladies, but you all were most gracious.  I tip my hat to you.  If you’d like to understand why Jessy makes me so crazy, you can read a bit of our story below.

Here’s an excerpt from A Man Like That:

Jessy took a step forward and slid her arms beneath his jacket and around his waist. “Now aren’t you going to kiss me?”

He grabbed her wrists and threw her hands off him as if she harbored a dread disease.

“Are you sure you don’t want to kiss me?” she persisted. “Aren’t you glad to see me?” Her seductive tone was pure torture.

Morgan scowled and didn’t answer. He had no intention of answering the first question and wasn’t sure about the second. At the moment, it required every ounce of strength and resolve he had to keep from jerking her into his arms and taking everything she offered and more.

He stared down at Jessy’s face in the flickering firelight. Her sparkling eyes beckoned him. Her moist lips parted in invitation. But the same fresh innocence that had always stopped him held him back again.

He could take what he wanted; he knew it. There was no one around to stop him, and Jessy wouldn’t resist. She was crazy enough to think she loved him.

It would be so easy to give in, so easy to forget the past and the future for a few sweet hours in her arms, to forget their differences and lose himself in the generosity of her love. But he couldn’t do it. To take her and leave her would be to steal something more precious than her virginity. He would be stealing the bright fire that formed the essence of her, the fire that had drawn him from the beginning. As much as he wanted her, he prayed for the strength to resist her.


If you'd like to read more of Morgan and Jessy's story, contact me through my website to be entered in a drawing for a free print copy of A Man Like That!


Alison Henderson
www.alisonhenderson.com

Do You Expect Success? by Alison Henderson

Do you expect success, or does accomplishment take you by surprise? Sometimes we try to protect ourselves from disappointment by expecting the worst, or we refuse to admit our hopes to others to avoid embarrassment if we fail. These behaviors are two sides of the same coin. They both deprive us of the full experience of anticipating the outcome of our endeavors. In seeking to avoid the lows, we miss the highs.

Among my siblings, I have always been considered “the practical one”, not “the creative one” or “the dreamer”—in other words, the last one anyone expected to become a writer. However, when I started writing nineteen years ago, I fully expected success. I didn’t know any better. I finished a couple of books, obtained an agent, and expected to become a published author in short order.

I soon learned the road to publication is rarely that smooth. Publishers’ needs change, readers’ tastes change, and life intervenes. Many years passed without a sale, but I kept writing, and through it all, I still expected success. Part of that was due to stubbornness and part to perseverance, but mostly it was unquenchable optimism. I’d long since lost my naïveté about the publishing business, but I never lost my conviction that I could succeed.

I’m definitely a glass-half-full type of person. I accept reality but always expect the best. I can’t imagine living any other way. I certainly never would have become published if hadn’t expected success. It’s far too easy to become discouraged.

Now, I share my hopes with my family and friends. If they ask what I’m working on, I tell them. I no longer wait until I’ve sold a story to admit I wrote it. For me, being confident enough to risk failure is the flip side of expecting to succeed, and knowing I’m not on the road alone helps bolster that confidence.

The heroine in my latest historical romance, A Man Like That, is the embodiment of expecting success. She begins her journey full of ingenuous enthusiasm but soon learns life can be a much rockier path than she anticipated. Through it all, her innate optimism pushes her on.

Here’s a blurb:
Jessamine Randall, fearless crusader and champion of the downtrodden, is not a woman to be left waiting at the altar. When her fiancé disappears hours before the wedding, she hatches a plan to track him down and bring him back where he belongs.

Morgan Bingham knows he’s no good. Never has been. Never will be. A former outlaw is no fit husband for the daughter of the town judge, despite her misguided notions. Besides, after ten long years away from home, it’s time to return to the hills and face his demons.

Ill-prepared, but armed with unshakeable certainty, Jessy follows Morgan to his family’s cabin deep in the Ozark Mountains where she’s sucked into a whirlpool of deep secrets and old hatreds. While she fights to bring light and hope into their dark lives, her greatest challenge is Morgan himself. Can she ever convince him he’s worthy of love?

Alison Henderson

www.alisonhenderson.com

Gram's Gravy

I’m not quite sure how it happened, but I am now the keeper of The Family Secret. I am the only known maker of Gram’s Gravy.

My mother’s mother died in 1998, shortly after her 98th birthday. Widowed at 49 and not quite five feet tall, she lived a few blocks away while I was growing up and was an essential part of our family life. Every Thanksgiving and Christmas until she was well into her 80’s, Gram was in charge of making the turkey gravy. There was nothing fancy about her method, no exotic additions or sophisticated techniques, but somehow she concentrated the flavors into the richest gravy imaginable. A couple of tablespoons brought plain turkey and ho-hum stuffing to life. We rationed our helpings to make sure the gravy would last as long as the leftovers because when it was gone, it was gone. Powdered or bottled gravy was no substitute.

By the time I was married, my mother had lost whatever interest she might have had in cooking large holiday meals, so the task fell to me as the eldest daughter and the only one still living in town. Fortunately, Gram was on hand to teach me the ropes. Peering over her shoulder, I learned how to shake up just the right combination of flour and water to add to the drippings to get that perfect consistency and flavor. I’ve now made that gravy dozens of times, and her method (I can’t call it a recipe) has never failed me. My daughter adores it and regularly invites friends to our house for Thanksgiving and Christmas to share our family “specialty”.

Gram’s gravy is an integral part of every holiday dinner, and I think of her every time I make it. The simple act of stirring the basic ingredients together in the hand-me-down family roasting pan is a powerful and comforting reminder of the passing of traditions from one generation to the next. I hope I’m around long enough to teach my daughter and granddaughter (if I’m lucky enough to have one) the secret of Gram’s gravy.

Do you have special holiday traditions that have been passed down in your family? I’d love to hear about them. In the spirit of giving, I’m offering a free pdf of my latest novel, A Man Like That, to one lucky commenter, so be sure to include your email address if you’d like to be entered in the contest.

Here’s a blurb about the story:

Jessamine Randall, fearless crusader and champion of the downtrodden, is not a woman to be left waiting at the altar. When her fiancé disappears hours before the wedding, she hatches a plan to track him down and bring him back where he belongs.

Morgan Bingham knows he’s no good. Never has been. Never will be. A former outlaw is no fit husband for the daughter of the town judge, despite her misguided notions. Besides, after ten long years away from home, it’s time to return to the hills and face his demons.

Ill-prepared, but armed with unshakeable certainty, Jessy follows Morgan to his family’s cabin deep in the Ozark Mountains where she’s sucked into a whirlpool of deep secrets and old hatreds. While she fights to bring light and hope into their dark lives, her greatest challenge is Morgan himself. Can she ever convince him he’s worthy of love?

Alison Hendersonhttp://www.alisonhenderson.com/

What's Most Important to You? by Alison Henderson

As the holidays approach, we’re often drawn to reflect on what we value most. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how this applies to both my life and my writing. In writing, an author’s values are expressed through theme. These days theme is a hot topic; writing-related articles and blogs on the subject seem to pop up wherever you look. Because I write in multiple genres, I’ve been wondering how my stories connect—why I write what I write.

A writer’s theme is different from her subject matter or author brand. Theme is not whether you write about highlanders or cowboys, dukes or detectives. My first two published books are western historical romances set in Missouri just after the end of the Civil War. That tells you something about the setting and subject matter but nothing about the theme. It also might brand me as an author if I let it (although brand encompasses an author’s style and voice as well). Because my newest manuscript and current WIP are both snappy contemporaries I wanted to figure out what they have in common with my historicals.

My first book, Harvest of Dreams, tells the story of a young widow who has just given birth to her first child. She has a close relationship with her mother, but her son quickly becomes the center of her world and the focus of her future. The hero is a lawman who’s been on his own since the age of twelve and never expected to be a part of any family.

My second book, A Man Like That, follows two of the secondary characters from Harvest of Dreams: the fiery schoolteacher who’s the only child of the town judge and an ex-outlaw whose family has suffered from decades of poverty as well as the privations of war. The heroine does everything in her power to convince the hero and his family they’re worthy of love.

My first contemporary, Unwritten Rules, involves an ex-FBI agent who owns her own all-female bodyguard agency and signs on to protect a former CIA agent-turned-bestselling-author on a book tour. In addition to challenges created by the hero and the villain, she is dealing with unresolved issues related to the recent deaths of her parents in a terrorist attack (sounds like heavy stuff, but actually this is the lightest and funniest book of the three).

So what do these stories have in common? What made me write them the way I did? It didn’t take long to figure out that I write about the importance of family—cherishing the family you have or creating a new one if necessary. My books always include the main characters’ family members as prominent secondary characters. In Harvest of Dreams, it’s the heroine’s mother. As the mother of a grown daughter, I loved writing that character. A Man Like That was all about the hero’s family, their trials and tribulations and a longstanding feud. In Unwritten Rules, I had a fabulous time writing the hero’s feisty grandmother.

For me, the theme of family is much more than a coincidence or plot device. It is the universal, overriding influence in my writing. It represents my most important core value and, therefore, will be present in every story I write whether I think about it or not. That’s rather comforting. There are so many aspects to consider and decisions to make when you’re writing it’s a relief not to have to actively think about your theme.

Think about your favorite books. What common themes resonate with you?

I’m offering a pdf of Harvest of Dreams to one lucky commenter, so be sure to include your email address in your comment if you’d like to be entered in the contest. I won’t be around today because I’m out of town visiting my own daughter, but rest assured I’ll read every comment and select a winner as soon as I get home tomorrow.

Thanks for stopping by today! To learn more about me and my books, I invite you to visit me at http://www.alisonhenderson.com/.

Clara Barton - Founder of the American Red Cross

My twenty-something daughter and her friends may consider me an old feminist, but as women in the 21st century we owe a tremendous debt to the pioneering women who came before us and took the first steps that led to the freedoms, choices, opportunities and comforts we enjoy today. In September, we celebrate Women of Achievement Month with profiles of some of those women.

When I considered the topic in the context of my writing, I immediately thought of Clara Barton. My books, Harvest of Dreams and A Man Like That, are set just after the end of the Civil War, at a time when conflict had destroyed the lives of millions of Americans. However, some lasting good did rise from those ashes. It was during the war that Clara Barton developed the interest in nursing and commitment to easing the suffering of others that ultimately led her to found the American Red Cross.

Clara Barton was born in 1821 in Oxford, MA. As a young woman, she went to work as the first female clerk in the US Patent Office in 1854. In April of 1861, just days after the firing on Fort Sumter, she volunteered to help tend soldiers from the Sixth Massachusetts Infantry who were quartered in the U.S. Senate chambers. She helped provide food, clothing and supplies to “her boys”, many of whom she knew from home.

In August of 1862, she received permission to travel to the front lines to provide desperately needed supplies to the field hospitals and became known as the “Angel of the Battlefield” after serving during such famous battles as Harpers Ferry, Antietam, Fredericksburg, and Charleston. After the war, while visiting friends in Switzerland, she was introduced to the international Red Cross. She remained involved in various humanitarian activities through the 1870’s and in 1881, founded the American Association of the Red Cross with a group of supporters. The Red Cross flag was officially flown in this country for the first time in 1881, when they went to the aid of victims of a devastating forest fire in Michigan.

During the twenty-three years Clara Barton served as president, the Red Cross aided victims of war and natural disasters across the globe from Texas to Turkey. She resigned her post at the age of 83 and lived to the ripe old age of 90.

Think of some of the disasters that have occurred just in the past year: the Japanese Tsunami, Joplin tornado, and most recently hurricane Irene. The Red Cross has responded immediately with food, money and medical supplies to aid and comfort the victims. Our world today is a safer, more humane place today because of the work of Clara Barton, definitely a Woman of Achievement.