First Love by Jena Galifany

 February is the month of Love. Every one knows it and everyone embraces it (with the exception of many grade school aged boys). While researching the holiday of Valentine's day, I've seen in one place that men spend the most money and another that says women hold that distinction. But does money need to play an important role in showing someone your affection for them?

It can sometimes be a difficult thing to show your love for another. There are many levels of love. My first love was at the age of four. I fell in love with an actor named Guy Williams. I saw him in a movie titled "Captain Sindbad". He was the most wonder man I'd ever seen and growing up at the movie theater, I'd seen many in the first four years of my life. Five years later, I found him again in the Walt Disney version of "Zorro". Again I was thunderstruck.

Commemorative Lapel Pin Aug. 2, 2001

My love of Guy lasted many years. I've written fan-fiction for his version of Zorro. In 2001, I had the privilege of working with a group, along with Guy Jr., in getting Guy his posthumous star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

I was further working on getting Guy "Legend" status at Disney via letting the powers that be know that Guy was as huge part of the building of Disney Land in California in the 50's by proceeds raised from Zorro merchandise. We wanted them to know that after all of these years, Guy as Zorro was still encouraging writers, artists and young people. We compiled and submitted two books of fan-fiction, artwork and letters confirming his continued inspiration.

I had to leave the group due to work restrictions. This second honor was bestowed on Guy in 2011. I have no regrets at being a part of these projects to honor my first love, Armando Catalano, better known as Guy Williams.(Zorro, Prof. John Robinson of Lost in Space).

I can't spend so much time talking about love and not mention my husband of twenty-two years, Steve. When we met, he told me that he was not a romantic person. Over the years, he's shown me that the statement was not altogether true. He's made a few fabulous shows of romance. One spectacular example is the piece he wrote for ShadowsForge, Retaking America, book three in the series. Lead singer Geoff Richards is trying to decide how to propose to Valerie Leonard. I hope you enjoy it:
_________________

Geoff dropped the ring into his pocket, squared his shoulders, stepped up to the door and knocked. An eternity passed before Valerie answered with a smile.

“I’ll be right with you.” Valerie went to the table, shutting down her laptop as Geoff waited in the doorway. She was wearing the same outfit she had worn at the interview, navy blue slacks that fit every curve, blue blouse and black heels. We’ve come full circle.

“I thought we’d eat in my room, if that’s all right with you.”

Valerie nodded. “Sounds good to me. I’m ready.” She stepped past Geoff, allowing him to pull her door closed.

Geoff put his arm around her as they walked in silence down the hall to his room. Valerie smiled when he opened the door for her. The lights were dim. The drapes were open, providing the backdrop of a starry night sky. A table had been set up, dinner for two. Candles, white tablecloth, champagne, and a single white rose.

“This is beautiful. Not exactly your style but I love it.”

She moved to the window. While she enjoyed the view, Geoff took the ring from his pocket, hoping the perfect opportunity would present itself. He stepped up behind her, trying to think of the right words as he palmed the ring.

She glanced up at him. “I wish I could hold the stars in my hand.”

He couldn’t have asked for a better opening. “Would you like me to get them for you?”

Valerie looked over her shoulder at him. “You’d do that for me?”

He smiled his media smile. “Watch this.” He wrapped one arm around her, pulling her back against his chest. He swept the star field back and forth as he gathered every twinkling light. Holding them tight, he showed her his closed fist. Reaching around her with both arms, he worked to compact the stars, tucking in any escaping starlight between his fingers. He wrapped his arm around her again, opening his hand. The ring sparkled in his palm, reflecting the candlelight. “The stars—for you.”

  ________________________

Being an ex-roadie, Steve gives me the technical guidance for back stage with ShadowsForge but I believe he gave me the most romantic moment in Retaking America.

 Expressions of love don't have to cost money. In my opinion, I'd rather have kind words softly spoken than pink verse mass produced with a single name signed at the bottom. I'd rather have a circle of warm arms embracing me than a cold piece of metal to adorn my skin. Give me the scent of a real man, not the fragrance of dying blossoms. Time with the one that I love is what I want most on St. Valentine's Day or any day of the week, month or year, for that matter.

 Zorro fan-fiction can be read HERE.
More on the history of St. Valentine's Day can be read HERE.
More ShadowsForge can be found on my WEBSITE.

Cheers,
Jena' Galifany

Would A Rose Soften Your Heart? -- Vonnie Davis

I love roses. Their heady smell. The velvety texture of their petals. Their beauty in all stages of bloom. One day Calvin carried home a pot of pink tulips. "Angel, I remembered you like pink roses so I got these for you." He was so pleased with himself...and I was more than pleased with his thoughtfulness. So what if it was the wrong flower. He'd made the purchase with his heart. Isn't that what every woman wants? To be uppermost in our man's thoughts?

Roses play a part in my release from The Wild Rose Press, Those Violet Eyes. Part of the Honky Tonk Hearts seires, it releases today. Evie, my heroine, has been driving an old clunker with doors that won't open and a driver's side window that won't close. She gets in and out by shimmying through the open window. One night after working as a waitress at the Lonesome Steer Honky Tonk, she comes out to find her car's battery is dead. Win, my hero, offers to put in another battery. The next day, her brother drives her to work where she has several pleasant surprises waiting on her --

Getting Dooley to drive her to work was no problem for Evie. The man loved any excuse to go to the Lonesome Steer—or any bar, for that matter.

“See if your car starts, Evie, while I go in and say ‘hi’ to everyone.”

“Don’t forget the evening chores.” No doubt he already had.

“Yeah, yeah.” He all but ran into the honky tonk.

Evie stepped to her car and noticed the windows were wound up. Her stomach dropped. Who would have done such a trick? How would she get inside the car? Wait. Whoever wound them up had to open the doors. Doors jammed tighter than Sam Houston’s tomb for months now.

She reached for the handle and breathed a sigh of relief when the door opened, slick as anything. She closed it. Opened it. Closed it. A smile blossomed for the first time that day. Who fixed my doors? She opened the door again and turned the handle for the window. It worked perfectly. How wonderful. No more riding in the rain with the window down.

Had Win done this? Had to be him. Who else would have?

Evie sat in the seat, turned her key and the engine sprung to life. Oh, Win, thank you.

That’s when she noticed the yellow rose bud. One single yellow rose in a little vial of water lay on her dashboard. She reached for it and fingered the velvety petals. No one had ever given her flowers before. A lone tear plopped onto the blossom. Win thought enough of her to fix her car and give her a rose. What was she to make of this? Of him?

Kenny Chesney was singing from the jukebox about a sexy woman in his life when Evie stepped inside the honky tonk. She waved to Keira and Gus and headed straight for Win.

When she stepped into the kitchen, she closed the swinging door as quiet as she could. She wanted just a minute; just a minute to look at the macho-Marine with the caring heart. He’d given her a rose. What man would think of placing a rosebud on a woman’s dash? None that she knew of, that’s for sure. Yet he had. He’d also installed a new battery and fixed her windows and doors. She hadn’t asked for his help. This giant of a man had given it freely. Was his heart that generous?

Win’s back was to her as he chopped vegetables. Muscles played under his tight T-shirt. His biceps were huge. How would it feel to be enveloped in the warmth and strength of his strong body?

As if he sensed her presence, his head rose and he slowly turned toward her.

Suddenly nervous at being caught studying him—hoping she hadn’t been drooling—she cleared her throat. “Hi.”

He nodded once in greeting.

“Ah…thank you. My car starts right up.” She stepped further into his domain, her heart pounding in her ears and her stomach doing that twitchy thing it always did around him. “The car doors work now, too.”

Win stood there, silent and waiting. No emotion showed on his stony features. His hazel eyes regarded her as she moved to stand beside him. Lord, but the man resembled a wall of muscle.

She caught herself chewing on her bottom lip and stopped. “It’ll be nice to wind my windows up. Last week a bird flew in the car, and I ran down a mailbox trying to get it out.”

Her remark cracked his austere face. His lips twitched and his eyes turned soft, almost affectionate. Then he shook his head as if he didn’t know whether to believe her or not. “There’s no one like you, Evie.”

 

Evie Caldwell hoards every penny for her escape from the servitude life created by a worthless brother and the endless work on a ranch that will never be hers. The last thing she wants is a muscled man with a macho Marine attitude complicating her life. But, oh, how that man can make her insides do a twitchy thing.

Wounded vet, Win Fairchild, returns to Texas to heal, find a piece of his soul and open a ranch for amputee children. Finding someone to love was not on his agenda. Nor was dealing with a wildcat, until she captures his heart with those violet eyes.

But now that he knows what he wants, can Win convince Evie to stay in Texas—and his bed?

Everything's Coming up Roses by Alison Henderson

June is Rose Month, so I thought I’d share some pictures of the roses in my garden. I adore roses. I have nine bushes of three varieties across the south-facing front of my house in suburban Minneapolis. Roses are one of my favorite flowers and, interestingly, have several connections to my writing career.

First, I blog here at the Roses of Prose. I love my fellow Roses and am thrilled to be a member, but it wasn’t always so. In January of 2011, the Roses of Prose held a contest to choose a new Rose. I’d previously been a guest and decided to apply. Contestants wrote an introductory post, and the readers voted. I wasn’t chosen, but I swallowed my disappointment and continued to follow the blog. A few months later, the Roses of Prose re-organized, and I raised my hand again. This time—success! And the rest, as they say, is history.

The second Rose in my life is my publisher. I have two full length novels published by The Wild Rose Press and a novella coming out in the next few months. My road to publication and TWRP was long and convoluted and paved with “no’s” from agents and other publishers. However, I refused to give up and have been rewarded with a wonderful publishing relationship.

Finally, there’s my garden. It takes fortitude, optimism, and stubbornness to grow roses in Minnesota. Even though I grow super-hardy shrub roses developed for the northern plains, I occasionally lose a bush or two after a difficult winter. No matter. In the spring, I march off to the garden center, buy replacements, and vow to mulch better next year. If you want beautiful flowers in this climate, you accept setbacks and carry on.

Do you see a pattern here? I have both a successful rose garden and a career as a published author because of perseverance. It hasn’t always been easy, but my prize is being surrounded by lovely roses. Who could ask for more?

Alison

www.alisonhenderson.com

MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH ROSES - MARGARET TANNER

Roses are my favourite flower. My husband thinks I am obsessed with them.  I always wear rose perfume, Bush Rose, Musk Rose. The Yardley (English company) Rose is a lovely perfume, as sweet and fragrant as its name sake.
I have to confess that my garden is full of roses. Hubby hates them with a passion because he thinks they deliberately jump out and stick their thorns into him.
I love old fashioned roses the best. They may not be quite as colourful as the modern day varieties, but they always have a gorgeous perfume.  Just Joey, a beautiful large bloomed orange rose with a delightful perfume is one of my favourites.  Another favourite is a blood red rose named Oklahoma, the perfume is as heady as wine.
It amazes me how often I seem to put a flower in the title of my romance novels, or describe garden scenes. It must have been an instinctive thing because I don’t recall actively trying to do this.

One of my published novels was titled The English Rose.  It has, after a re-write, been released by The Wild Rose Press (TWRP) as Frontier Wife. Holly And The Millionaire is another novel from TWRP. The heroine, Holly has a daughter called Lilly. Daphne is the name of my heroine in The Trouble With Playboys from TWRP. I have also written a short story, Call Of The Apple Blossom.  Can you see a pattern here?

          
 Whiskey Creek Press, previously published Savage Utopia and its sequel Stolen Birthright singularly, but have recently re-released them in a 2 for 1 e-book, which is available from Whiskey creek Press and Amazon Kindle.  No flower scenes in these two stories.

SAVAGE UTOPIA

On board the convict ship taking them to the penal colony of Australia, Maryanne Watson and Jake Smith meet and fall in love, but Jake hides a terrible secret that will take him to the gallows if it ever comes out.
On arrival in Sydney the lovers are separated. Maryanne is sent to work for the lecherous Captain Fitzhugh. After he attacks her she flees into the wilderness and eventually meets up with Jake who has escaped from a chain gang.  They set up home in a hidden valley and Maryanne falls pregnant.  Will Jake come out of hiding to protect his fledgling family? And how can love triumph over such crushing odds?

STOLEN BIRTHRIGHT

Can an English aristocrat ever hope to marry the daughter of convicts?
Georgina, a wild colonial girl, is brought up by O’Rourke, a rough and ready Irishman who she believes is her uncle. While helping the bushranger Johnny Dawson escape from prison she meets and falls in love with a dashing young English aristocrat, the Honourable Marcus Lindquist.
When Johnny Dawson is ambushed and killed, Marcus finally learns the secret of what has bound the young outlaw to Georgina. Meanwhile, twelve thousand miles across the sea, Marcus’ Godfather, is plotting Georgina’s death to keep his dark secrets from ever seeing the light of day.

http://www.whiskeycreekpress.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=982

March Means Spring, and a Middle-aged Woman's Fancy Turns to Gardening!

As I write this, only a couple of inches of snow linger on the ground here in Minnesota. At the rate things have been going this winter, they’ll have melted by the time I finish. Some winter enthusiasts up here may be screaming, but I can’t hear them. I enjoy the changing seasons, but twenty-two years in the frozen northland have failed to win me over to the wonders of winter. I’m ready to garden!

Being a northern gardener challenges one’s optimism, but so far, every year I’ve won the battle. Not only do I garden, but I dare to grow roses in this climate. When we moved into our current home seven years ago, I was excited to have a south-facing front yard for the first time. I ripped out the aging junipers (actually, I paid some strong young men to do it) and drew up an all-new design that included nine hardy shrub roses in three different shades of pink.

I chose a variety developed at the University of Iowa and have been thrilled with the results. Every year, the bushes grow larger. A couple of them are now as tall as I am. And when they’re in bloom, they literally stop traffic. I’ve had strangers in cars and neighbors out dog-walking stop and admire them.

This year, I’m taking on a new challenge. My husband and I bought a vacation condo on the Central Coast of California, a region with very limited seasonal rainfall. It’s a gorgeous area where anything will grow if it gets enough water. I have a small, shady front garden and two sunny squares cut into the back patio, so I’ve been studying drought-tolerant plants that can survive when I’m not there to water them.

Very few of the Midwestern plants I’m familiar with grow in coastal California, and that’s a big part of the fun. I’ve discovered some exotic options - like sticky monkey flower! How can I resist something with a great name like that?

Lavender is another lovely choice. It reminds me of Provence and only has to be watered the first year. Roses thrive in the area, but they have to be watered regularly. Maybe when I retire and we can spend longer periods of time there, I’ll install drip irrigation. At the moment, I’m nervous about leaving any kind of water on when we’re gone.

A new garden is like a blank canvas (or page), full of hope and possibility, just waiting for the creative expression of the artist. I can’t wait.

Alison Henderson

www.alisonhenderson.com