Hearts of Valor: A sneak peak!

Happy Book Birthday to Hearts of Valor!


So I asked the authors of Hearts of Valor a simple question. What kind of act of kindness or valor have you personally experienced? Either to you or for someone else? Read below to see what interesting and amazing answers they gave me.  Don’t forget, keep reading below to read a little more about Hearts of Valor.

London Saint James:

I have a cousin who was in the Pentagon when the plane crashed into it during the 911 attacks. My cousin entered a section of the building that was collapsed and on fire, and pulled an officer from a mass of debris he’d been trapped under, saving that man’s life. The man was badly burned, and was sent to a burn unit, but he lived. My cousin was given a medal of honor for his act of bravery. And, to this day, my cousin and the other man are close friends.

Jean Young:

Years ago, my boyfriend and I traveled to New Hampshire during winter break. For whatever reason, he decided to add oil in our old, problematic Dodge Omni, but foolishly he picked something wrong. The result was we were stuck in a tiny town right before New Year. The only garage wasn’t willing to help since they were closing for the holiday. There wasn’t even a motel around. As we felt helpless, a man in uniform came over. He was with his wife and two teenage sons. They helped us to push the car to an inclined ground. He sent his sons to pick up the right oil. And then, in subzero temperature, with snow and ice on the ground, he crawled under the car and changed the oil for us. I was so grateful and stunned that the only thing I remembered to do was saying thank-you over and over again. In haste, I forgot to ask his name!

S.L. Hughson:

Since I can’t think of being in a situation where valor would be required, I must lead a tame life. As for kindness, the small, everyday things are what stick out in my mind. A stranger holding the door for me or offering me a closer parking space when rain is pouring down. In these cases, thank you doesn’t seem adequate, and I have a feeling that would be even truer if I ever experienced an act of valor on my behalf.

T.E. Hodden:

I am in debt to the kind nurse who happened to be driving behind a member of my family when he had an accident. Her kindness in staying with him was far beyond the call of duty.

Philip Lisagor:

While working in Charlie Wilson’s war in the mid 1980’s I visited a UN Basic Health Unit outside of Peshawar, Pakistan. I was the guest of a young general practitioner who was seeing about 200 patients a day on the border refugee camp. This young overworked doctor presented to me an elderly female who was short of breath from her congestive heart failure. He had heard a heart murmur suggestive of mitral valve narrowing and had ordered an ECHO cardiogram from the Khyber Hospital in nearby Peshawar. This study and confirmed that this elderly lady had mitral stenosis. The doctor proudly told me he had arranged for her to be sent to the Aga Khan Clinic in Karachi for open heart surgery. In the midst of three million refugees and 200 patients a day, he had done what was right against all odds. To this day he represents to me “The best doctor I have ever met.”

Terri Rochenski:

When I was a twelve year old, I pulled a drowning toddler from a hotel pool. Other than that, my life has been pretty boring. LOL!

Hearts of Valor
by Various Authors
Genre: Romance Anthology (Sweet)
Publisher: Roane Publishing
Release Date: January 13, 2016
Keywords: Romance, Anthology, Sweet, military, veteran, war, POW, bravery
Description: It takes a heart of valor to survive love’s battlefield.

Six veteran themed romantic tales brimming with love and sacrifice are sure to show us all what it truly means to have a Heart of Valor.

Hero of Her Heart – S.L. HughsonNicole Taylor has loved Vincent for years. Now he’s back from serving in the Army, and she’s determined to make him see her as something other than a little sister.

After a heated Valentine’s date, Nicole is confused by Vince’s withdrawal. She confronts him, but no matter how hot their physical attraction, he keeps backing away.

Nicole helps him follow his lifelong dreams but he drifts further from her happily-ever-after plans. What will it take for him to see he is truly the hero of her heart?

Feathers – T.E.Hodden

Kerry only wanted to do right by Christopher. To protect him from the whispers of ‘coward’ and the shame of a white feather.

But the war doesn’t look like a grand adventure any more. All Kerry wants is Chris home safe. But will he still be the same man she once knew?

A Manly Man – Jean Young

Confederate POW, Braxton Bolton, had an unexpected visitor the day before his execution, when Arabella Anderson walked into his jail cell and, in front of other POWs, kissed him until he shook with desire.

Two years prior, she had been the Lieutenant Colonel’s prisoner. While she was tortured and raped by the other Confederate soldiers, Bolton was different. He protected her from further suffering, and the grateful young woman had come to repay his kindness. While they became more and more intimate, she learned the story behind his kindness.

But what she learned turned the sweet girl into a fearsome warrior, one determined to save the soldier with a noble heart.

Goin’ Home – Philip Lisagor

How will Jack be able to put Iraq behind him and return home to Leah and their two children? The green peaceful coast of Ireland is the perfect landing zone from the brown violent landscape of Mesopotamia. Jack is humping ruck along the North Atlantic coast when a chance encounter with an Irish maiden turns him all around and he hears the voice of Leah in a magical moment calling him home.

The Promise – London Saint James

The year Veronica turned twenty-two changed her life. She graduated from San Diego State University, married the handsome Lieutenant Carter Weis—widowed six months after the happy nuptials.

Captain Quinn Alstrom of the U.S. Coast Guard was eager to start his newest post; however the excitement had nothing to do with the beautiful surroundings of Key West, and everything to do with his best friend’s wife.

Will Quinn’s surprise arrival in Veronica’s life re-spark the fire in the vivacious woman he remembered? Or, will the memory of her fallen husband stop the two of them from finding happiness?

Promises Kept – Terri Rochenski

Ever since they were kids, Joan dreamed of being Walt Herley’s wife. But, Joan’s dream is short-lived when the Korean War draft has Walt trading his groom’s suit for army fatigues. After a short celebration of their rushed nuptials, Walt is whisked away to fulfill his duty to his country, leaving Joan behind with a promise to return.

With her heart a world away, Joan struggles to keep her spirit afloat while praying for the war’s expedient end. Fate, however, has a plan of its own, one that threatens Joan’s faith in Walt’s promise to return.

Blog Tour




Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code.  No purchase necessary, but you must be 18 or older to enter. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter, and announced on the widget. Winner well be notified by emailed and have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. The number of entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Roane Publishing’s marketing department.


Top Four Reasons Why I Write Romance



Blog post.

People often ask me why I write Romance so today I thought I’d give you four reasons why.


It’s the little details that make a romance, and I love writing those little details. Like when two strangers gaze at each other from across the room. The serving of a cup of coffee to the cute guy you’ve been eyeing.

Each romance is different and unique. Some couples only get together at the end of a book; I remember wanting Skydreamer to be different. I wanted to see a couple face insurmountable odds, together. When I wrote Skydreamer, the hero and heroine, Jaden and Draven had a simple romance. Unfortunately for them, life threw a lot at them, but this couple conquered insurmountable odds to be together at the end.

There is a warm squishy feeling you get when your “chosen” couple comes together for the first time. I “fall” in love with them. Sure this romance is all in my head for while I write the story, but it’s there. And I love jumping on that wild ride as each couple falls for each other.

My number one reason for writing romance is that I’m a sucker for a good happy ever after. And I know if I’m the one writing it, this happily ever after will happen.

We all need a little White Light in our lives.

One of my dearest writing friends has a brand new book. I was lucky enough to be a beta reader on it and wow, I loved it so much! So i’m very glad to present to you today, Anna Simpson. She isn’t just any friend, she is a friend whose has taught me a considerable amount about writing.

She’s also gracious enough to supply us with her cover (squeal!) and a top FIVE list!!  So here’s a little about her book and if you scroll down you’ll find her top FIVE list along with where and how to get her book!

white light

White Light
Anna Simpson

Three Worlds Press

Genre: Cozy

About The Book:
Emma never dreamed of being a super-sleuth. In her mind, she’s more Scooby Doo than Nancy Drew and when her nosy neighbor, Mrs. Perkins, drags her to an anniversary party to solve a mystery, she rolls her eyes, buys a box of chocolates and hops in the car.

What’s a party without an attack on its host—or more accurately on the host’s grandson, sparking an allergic reaction and moving the party to the hospital waiting room. Suddenly, everyone is a suspect. Emma and Mrs. Perkins, along with Great Aunt Alice (a spirit with boundary issues who keeps stepping into Emma’s body like a new dress and playing matchmaker), dive into an investigation that almost gets Emma killed along with the man they are trying to protect. With so many reasons to kill him and so much to be gained if he died, Emma and Mrs. Perkins must unravel the tenuous ties that point to every member of his family as potential killers.

Even if it means going back to the psych ward, Emma will protect her friend and this innocent man. What good is freedom if it’s haunted with guilt?

To stay free, I perform a ritual every morning. It begins with stepping outside, where dawn streams through the leafy branches of my maple tree, landing, shifting, and dancing on the flowerbeds at my bare feet. A steaming cup of coffee warms my hands. The fragrant air fills my lungs. I sip, leaving the liquid on my tongue to capture a moment of rich goodness.

My name is Emma, and I need to stay grounded and calm. It’s important for my health, so I walk along the fence and let the cool blades of grass tickle my toes and dewdrops cling to my skin. For fun, I kick a ball of dandelion fluff. Little parachutes take flight catching the same breeze moving the leaves above my head. The seeds float up, and up, over the fence to land on Mrs. Perkins’ perfectly tended lawn. Not a dandelion or mat of moss to be seen.

In a half acre of green sits one flowerbed, brimming with Lily of the Valley. I remember the first time I saw them over fifteen years ago. The delicate white bells could only be fairy hats. Today, the round base of cemented river stone is still full of waxy green spear tips. I don’t see fairy hats anymore. No, now I enjoy the effects of nature—its simple perfection.

Mrs. Perkins does it best. In fact, everything around Mrs. Perkins is perfectly cared for—her home, her yard, her car—all perfect.

But not today. A dark line sits between the jamb and the edge of the door.
A few inches of shadow drives my calm away and prickles the long blonde hairs at the nape of my neck. Butterflies in my stomach tell, no scratch that, demand I find my phone and go next door.

Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not a snoop.

Mrs. Perkins, a wiry old bird, did everything herself. I’m not sure if it is because she’s the independent sort or if she has no one else to help her. Either way, when she suggested we watch out for one another, I agreed.

I’m also alone. It doesn’t bother me unless I catch the flu or something. Then I wonder if I will die and no one will notice. It’s a thought, or fear, I can’t shake. Mrs. Perkins’ house has my full attention, and within it sits the same worry. I’ll check on her because she would do the same for me.

I crash into my kitchen, slopping my coffee onto the counter as I slam the mug down. My phone could be anywhere. My gaze travels from the pine tabletop to the gray marble counter. It’s not here. I push through the swinging door to the living area, run my fingertips between the couch and chair cushions, scan the smoked-glass coffee table through my veil of long blonde hair, and sneak a peek under my overturned book on the throw rug. Desperate, I check around the bowl by the door where I toss my keys as I pass the spiral staircase to the loft. Still nothing.

Down the short hallway, I rush to my bedroom. I tug the midnight blue duvet off the bed and shake it. My pulse speeds up as something thuds on to the carpet. I pick up my smartphone and check the battery. Half power.

Excellent. I dash through my front door, across the lawn and unlatch Mrs. Perkins’ white picket gate. Her shiny yellow front door looks as solid as stone. I follow her path to the back wondering if danger lurks.

I gasp as I near the door. It’s like living a moment in a crime drama. I mimic what I have watched on television and bring up my phone to take a picture. Inching forward, heart pounding, I wonder if poor Mrs. Perkins is sprawled out on the bathroom floor, from a stroke, heart attack, or a butcher knife.

Don’t worry, Mrs. Perkins. I’m coming.

I pull my cotton sleeve over my hand and push the door wider. Her kitchen looks untouched as if it’s sterilized or newly installed. Tiles cool my bare feet with each step. Fear scratches at my nerves, “Mrs. Perkins? It’s Emma from next door. Are you okay?”


I raise the phone to call for help.

A small sound carries from deeper in the house. I should stop, leave, and make the call.

Following the sound might be dangerous or, worse, plain stupid. And I’m scared. So scared, my breathing is all I hear over the pounding of my heart.

I’d look stupid if I’m wrong. Ravenglass Lake is so small-townsville, and Benny the bully is like no cop I’ve ever met. He would be no help. Worst of all, they’d call me crazy for sure. I slip the phone back into my denim pocket, quietly open her knife drawer, and pull out a meat cleaver. Armed, I creep forward.

Thank goodness Mrs. Perkins likes an open airy room. Evil housebreakers have nowhere to hide in the dining room.

A small thump like a cat landing on carpet makes me jump. But Mrs. Perkins doesn’t have a cat…or carpet—only allergies.

I tighten my grip on the cleaver as I stick my head into the living room. All is quiet and undisturbed. I enter the corridor to the front door. To my right are stairs to the upper floor. Farther ahead is a hall closet and nook where she keeps a desk and a small bookcase. Nothing seems touched.

I glance up at the glittery ceiling, swallow, and pull my phone from my pocket. The sensible thing is to dial 911. I sidestep for the front door, but in my mind’s eye Mrs. Perkins, wiry but frail, shakes her head. Her arm outstretched urging me not to leave.

Thump, I freeze. The noise is right beside me coming from the hall closet.
Without thinking, I open the door and find Mrs. Perkins tied up with duct tape across her lips. Her green eyes, round and unblinking, grow wide, and her usual perfect curls are mussed. I drop the cleaver. It clatters on the floor, and I pull the tape free.

Author Links:
Facebook | Twitter | Blog

About the Author:
Anna Simpson lives near the Canadian-US border with her family. Even though she’s lived in several places in British Columbia, her free spirit wasn’t able to settle down until she moved back to her hometown.

She is easy to find though, if you know the magic word — emaginette. Do an internet search using it and you’ll see what I mean. 🙂

Giveaway link:
White Light Rafflecopter Giveaway


a Rafflecopter giveaway


rose pink

Anna’s Top Five List of things she likes best about Groups!

Fabulous Five Things About Online Writing Groups

Thanks for having me here sister, dear sister. I’m very fortunate to share the same writing group with you and I know it. As a group, we can’t help but learn from each other. Whether it’s from watching another’s example or just leaning on each other for support

1.   As I mentioned the most important part of being in a group is never being alone. As we all know, writing can be a lonely business. Battling with words, or worse yet, characters trying to take over a story when you least expect it. It can drive a woman mad. But thanks to a very special group of women, I’m okay.

2.  It’s a safe place to admit when I’m not sure what I’m doing. Help is a forum away. It’s hard for me to reach out. Terrifyingly hard. So occasionally I put on my big-girl pants and reach out. They’ve never let me down.

3.  The group has authors in every level publication. Some are just plain masters at what they do and some, like me, are still working it out. Because of the range of experience, all questions get great answers. Guidance, honest level-headed, practical guidance is waiting any time I need it.

4.  It’s hard to feel scared when there is a safety net under you. Sometimes it’s even cheering. I get nervous. Very nervous if you must know. But I feel like I’m prepared even if I haven’t tried something before. It’s a weird kind of wonderful.

5. Maybe this should have gone first. I meet women like Sheryl. She’s a blessing all on her own. So if you ever wonder if looking for an online writing group is a good idea. Remember us.

Is there anything you’ve done that was that much sweeter because you had company? I’d love to hear about it. I really, really would.