Author Archives: Liz Severn

New Chapter 2

This is the second part of my next installment.

 ***

        Their drive to the plantation not far from Adams Run, South Carolina, was lighthearted and relaxed. When they turned off the road into a wooded area, however, Tori’s dream flashed to the front of her mind. Immediately, she tensed. Her throat constricted with fear. She didn’t like this. It was too close to what she’d already seen. They rounded a curve, and the dream became even more vivid. Large live oak trees, their wide branches dripping with Spanish moss, loomed ominously ahead. All of a sudden, she panicked.

“Stop the car!” she ordered.

Cole slammed the brakes on so hard that he and Tori nearly hit the windshield despite their fastened seat belts. The moment the Rogue ground to a stop, Tori unhooked her belt, threw open the door, and raced back down the road.

Stunned, he sat immobile behind the steering wheel and watched her run away in his rearview mirror. What in the world had caused her terror? How would he ever bypass it to get her to continue with the project?

In only seconds, he recovered from his shock. He scrambled out of the car and sprinted after her. “Tori! Tori, come back!”

But she kept running as if she didn’t hear. Lengthening his strides, he closed the gap between them. Seconds later he caught her and grabbed her upper arm firmly. She screamed in fear. But he spun her into his arms and held her close.

Cole’s touch brought back the memory of the faceless man in her dream, and Tori struggled against him, desperately trying to free herself. She had to prove that she could turn back, but he wouldn’t let her. Instead, he held her tightly.

Despite her mental warning that she was risking her emotional stability, she felt safe in his strong arms. And his soothing words helped relieve her panic as no other man had ever done. Then again, she’d never been that terrified before, so it was possible that any man would send these sensations of security through her.

“It’s okay, Tori,” he said softly.

“No, it’s not.” Although reluctant to stay where she was, she couldn’t break away. The sound of his soothing, masculine voice caused tears to erupt in her eyes as she clung to him. “You don’t understand.”

“Yes, I do. I know the driveway can be spooky.” Tightening his embrace, he rubbed her shoulder tenderly. “I had a very vivid imagination when I was a child. Sometimes I would imagine that the branches of these live oaks were arms reaching out for me.”

Tori sighed at length. It felt good in his strong embrace, comforting and reassuring. His steady heartbeat and even breathing helped allay her fears almost as much as his gentle caress and understanding words. If only she hadn’t accepted this job. If only Paul hadn’t left her at the altar!

This attraction to Cole was dangerous to her sanity. She wanted to keep their relationship professional, but it was already becoming harder every minute she was with him. And she really didn’t want an attachment. Paul had wooed her with flowers and charm. Then he’d asked her to marry him. When she’d agreed, it had been one of the happiest periods of her life—until all the wedding plans had come crashing down on top of her three weeks before the date they’d chosen. He’d come to her one night and told her he was sorry but he couldn’t do it. Then he’d walked out the door—just like her father had walked out on her mother. She’d tried to tell herself it was better this way, but it had taken several months to convince herself.

She was over that now, though—at least she’d thought she was. Now that Cole had walked into her life, it all came flooding back. Losing a man she loved twice in her life was enough. She had to be extra careful to protect herself from Cole’s charm so she didn’t hurt like that again, she reminded herself sternly. This moment of pleasure was wrong, because she couldn’t, she wouldn’t, get involved.

Pushing against his muscular chest with her forearms, she tried to free herself again, but his hold was too secure.

“Let go of me,” she demanded.

“Not until I’m sure you’re all right.”

“I’m fine. Now let go,” she repeated, enunciating each word.

Slackening his grasp, he gazed down at her. Tori had never seen so much concern in a man’s eyes before, and it confused her. Cole hardly knew her, yet the brightness that normally lit up his green eyes had clouded over in worry.

After drawing in a deep breath, he questioned her anxiously. “You won’t run away from me, will you?”

So that was it, she thought as a half-smile came to her lips. He was afraid that she was fleeing from him. Was it because of her overreaction the night before?

“Tori?” His deep voice dragged her from her thoughts. “You won’t, will you?”

“No.” When he released her, she gazed up at him. “I wasn’t running from you. I went to Boone Plantation yesterday, and the entrance road was amazingly similar to this. Then last night I dreamed that I was walking down a lane just like this one and the trees were whispering to me. They said, Our lives are entangled. You cannot turn back.”

“Oh, my God,” he groaned as he combed his fingers through his hair. “Tori, I’m sorry. I didn’t think that would give you nightmares.”

Now that she’d started recounting her dream, she needed to finish it. “And the trees kept laughing at me because I tried to run away but couldn’t. Then I saw a man without a face. Actually, it was the shadow of a man. He was laughing at me. Then he started toward me. I screamed, and that’s when I woke up.”

“I was that man, wasn’t I? That’s why you were running away from me.”

“I really wasn’t running away from you, Mr. Marshall. I was just running away. I had this deep-seeded need to prove that I could turn back.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“But I didn’t. Don’t you see that?” Unable to control her actions, she grabbed his hand in both of hers. “You stopped me. You were right, and so was the man in my dream. I can’t turn back. It’s just not possible. Something’s pulling me forward, dragging me to the mansion. I have to restore that house, Mr. Marshall, even if I have to do it free of charge.”

As his gaze met hers, his boyish, crooked grin returned to his lips. “Don’t worry, Tori. I have every intention of paying you. But there’s one thing that I have to insist on. Make that two things. No more banging phones in my ear.”

Blushing deeply at her folly the previous night, Tori smiled. “Sorry about that, but I was mad at you.”

“I noticed. The other thing is no more calling me Mr. Marshall. I’m old enough to be your big brother—not your father. You have to call me Cole.”

“If there’s nothing else, let’s go check out the mansion so I can give you a quote. That’s the last detail on the contract.”

Cole drove toward the mansion slowly this time. In only moments, the house loomed before them. Its driveway ended in a cul-de-sac before a porch that was nearly a third the length of the building. In the middle was a portico with four Grecian columns; above the portico was a room with a window.

While Cole parked the Rogue, Tori opened her door and got out as she admired the building. Many of the bricks were in obvious need of repair. The white trim and porch were in dire need of scraping and a fresh coat of paint. The classic multi-paned windows had some broken glass that needed replacing, but for the most part, they were intact. Two stories above, there was a bell tower at each end of the long mansion.

“Wow!” she breathed as Cole strode up beside her and shut her door.

“Pretty magnificent, isn’t it,” he observed, taking her hand in his. “I’ll show you around tell you all about this place’s history while we take measurements. Be careful on the porch, though. Some of the boards are rotted through.”

Cole opened both of the massive oak double doors to give her the best view of the main hallway. Directly ahead was another pair of double doors, apparently identical to the ones she’d just stepped through. The hallway was about ten feet wide and over twice as long. On each side were two arched doorways. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell what shape the oak floors were in, because the hall was cluttered with long-unused furniture.

Wandering slowly forward, she examined a low-back Windsor settee that was approximately six feet long. A couple of the back spindles were broken, but otherwise, it was in good repair—except for the sanding and staining it needed. She looked underneath it. All eight legs were intact. Apparently, not one had been replaced. Even the bobbin-turned stretchers attached to the legs were well preserved.

Standing up, she gazed at Cole in disbelief. “This is an antique, isn’t it? Made somewhere between 1730 and 1760, right?”

He stared down at her, his amazement vividly showing in his expression. “You know antiques, too?”

“I have to. I couldn’t go around the country restoring old buildings without a good background in the area. Are there many other antiques in the house?”

“Everything that Dad left is an antique—except in the apartment where you’ll be staying. That’s all pretty modern stuff, because my aunt and uncle used to live there. Are you ready for the grand tour?”

“I’ll never be more ready. Lead the way.”

The kitchen had been enlarged early during the Civil War and a servant’s hall added. A buttery, which was presently a laundry, and a servant’s stairway to the second floor were also added at that time. A billiard room addition made up the L at one end of the house. The Coleman clan had been Union sympathizers and had built a lookout tower above the kitchen and servants’ hall when it looked like civil war was about to break out.

There were also a breakfast room, storage room, and butler’s pantry toward that end of the house. Another set of stairs led to the second floor. The middle of the first floor contained a dining room and a music room. Across the main hall were more stairs, elaborately decorated with acorn and leaf filigree on the risers. In addition, there were a formal parlor, and a library. What Cole called the extended parlor, adjacent to the formal parlor, had once been a bed chamber.

Then they came to another set of stairs leading to the second floor. Mounting them, Cole explained that the upstairs was the original floor plan but that he had ideas if making it into a bed-and-breakfast was feasible.

“You can’t do that!” she exclaimed, grabbing his wrist tightly. Now that she’d seen the house, she couldn’t let him take that route with his grandfather’s money. “All of this wonderful antique furniture could be ruined by customers, Cole. You would have to store all the furniture you have and replace everything with simulated furniture if you want a period motif. That would be far too costly.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He grinned at her. “Good thing I hired you, isn’t it. I’d probably be spending a bundle otherwise.”

“You’re still going to be spending a bundle, Cole,” she admitted with a slow shake of her head. “I can already see a lot of repairs to make, and that’s just a surface perusal. Let’s finish measuring the main house then go check out the apartment.”

The mansion was much bigger than the others she’d worked on since she was in graduate school. It had a total of nine bedrooms, four bathrooms, four staircases, and sixteen fireplaces. There was only one stipulation that Cole asked her to keep in mind. Since all of the bathrooms were upstairs, he wanted to convert the storage area off the breakfast room into a half-bath. Everything else, he insisted, was completely up to her discretion.

Tori halted as they entered her apartment. The ceilings were at least twenty-feet high, with large fans hanging from the ceiling in each of the five rooms. The furniture was old and needed re-covering, but at least the bed had a new mattress.

“What was this apartment originally used for?” she asked.

“My ancestors put this up during the Civil War, too. It used to be a rectory.” He pointed to the far corner of the living room. “That door over there isn’t a closet. It’s stairs leading to the real bell tower.”

Determined to get the fullest exploration of the house that she could before they left, she said, “I should check out the roof. Come on.”

As they crossed the room, he stopped short and grabbed her elbow. “Wait a minute. Something’s weird about this room.”

“What?” she asked as she glanced around.

“I’m not sure. I don’t remember it looking like this the last time I was here, but that was twenty years ago. My memory is probably faulty.”

“Probably. Come on now. Let’s go up on the roof,” she suggested, eager to see more. “You can figure it out later.”

Once he’d opened the trap door, Cole glanced around the roof to make sure it was safe to walk on. Deciding that it was, he climbed the last few steps and helped Tori from the stairs. “Be careful up here. I haven’t checked it out yet.”

The octagonal bell tower sat near the front of the house. A third of the roof was surrounded by a three-foot high railing, four feet back from the front of the building. It was set two feet back on the side and flush against the back. There it blocked access to the L where the apartment kitchen and dining room were located.

Curious, Tori strode to the railing at the front of the house and swung one leg over it. Instantly, Cole’s arms wrapped around her waist, and he lifted her back.

“Damn it, Tori,” he said angrily. “I told you to be careful.”

Tori pried his arms from around her. “I was being careful. You’re just a nervous Nelly.”

“I’m nervous all right,” he admitted, “but it sure as hell isn’t because you’re a woman. Now stay on this side of the railing.”

Realizing the truth, she laughed. “Why, Cole Marshall. You’re afraid of heights. That’s why you haven’t already checked the roof.”

He blushed. “So what if I am? Just stay on this side.”

“All right, all right. I wouldn’t want to make you nervous.”

Carefully taking each step, she went to the corner of the railings. Once there, she turned around and paced off to the opposite corner. It was approximately sixty-five feet long. That was odd. According to their measurements, the apartment below was a little short of fifty-seven feet long.

“I was hoping that eight feet would show up,” she mumbled.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“The measurements you sent me in one of your letters showed a discrepancy of about eight feet. I didn’t give the discrepancy much credence because sometimes it can be hard to measure large buildings alone. That’s one reason I wanted us to do this together today. But in my business, you need a good memory for numbers and measurements. The ones we came up with today and the ones you sent me are still off by seven feet. As far as I’m concerned, we didn’t find an inch.”

“Do you have any idea why it would be so far off?”

“Not a clue.”

Without thinking, she leaned over the far edge of the roof and gazed down at the ground. Again Cole lifted her back.

“Stop doing that,” she said irritably. “I can’t work.”

He glared down at her. “You said you’d stay on this side.”

“Geez, you’re jumpy.” Tori complained as she turned her gaze back to the edge of the roof. “Even taking the two-foot walls into consideration, this railing is quite a bit longer than the apartment. Are you sure you didn’t forget about some hidden passage or something? Old houses like these have them at times.”

“Wait a minute!” he exclaimed. “There used to be an alcove in the apartment. I remember playing in it. I’ll bet that’s the discrepancy.”

“How big was this alcove?” she asked as he steered her to the trap door.

“I don’t know for sure. Let’s go back downstairs and see if I can figure it out.”

“You just want to get off the roof,” she taunted as they started back down the bell tower steps.

“You’re damned right I do. We don’t know how safe it is yet.” When they were back downstairs, Cole studied the end wall as he said, “I was kind of a shrimp until about tenth grade. That’s when I had my growing spurt. Five feet seemed big to me when I was ten.”

“I’d guess that it’s closer to seven feet.” Tori tapped on the wall with her knuckles. Keeping her ear close to the wood, she continued from one corner to the other then turned back toward him. “It doesn’t sound like it’s a supportive wall. We can break it down.”

“Why? I want to leave the apartment alone in case I have a caretaker someday—or a live-in maid. Whatever, I sure don’t want it to be a rectory, not that I have anything against religion. I just don’t have a need for a chapel if I’m just going to be living here.”

Tori stared at him in stunned disbelief. “Aren’t you even curious as to why the alcove was closed off?”

“Not really. It was, and that’s that.”

“But, Cole,” she started to protest.

“I mean it, Tori,” he insisted as he took her hand and led her out of the building. “Leave it alone. Besides, we should get out of here. You’re not even officially on duty until after we fill in your prospective charges at dinner tonight.”

“Come on, Cole. I want to see what’s wrong with that alcove. It might be important.”

“You’re just being nosy, and you know what they say. Curiosity killed the cat.” He gazed at her irritably. “And I won’t let you become a cat.”

Tori stared at him in shock. This was the second time he’d given her an ominous warning. Was it possible that he knew something about the alcove? Was it possible that he was involved in something sinister?

Chapter One of My Book

Hello,  everybody. I’m trying this, but I’m not sure how it will turn out okay. Feel free to read my chapters. I welcome all comments, even if you have criticisms. I’m trying to update this book and would love your help.

Thanks to all who want to participate.

 Chapter 1

A storm was coming; dark clouds loomed in the distance; sultry air hung around her. The scene fit Victoria Young’s sense of impending doom perfectly. When the waves crashed onto the shore, the Atlantic Ocean splashed its refreshingly cool shower over her, and she pushed a damp, windblown lock of hair off her forehead. The weather, unlike her sense of foreboding, was probably nothing more than a typical, South Carolina heat-of-the day storm.

With a heavy sigh, she sipped her margarita then stared at it blankly. Why was she drinking, anyway? That wouldn’t take away that ominous feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Coleman R. Marshall had contacted her about a month earlier to restore his family mansion near Charleston after seeing some of her work in a magazine. Almost immediately, an eerie sense about the job had come over her. Now she wasn’t sure she should have accepted the reconstruction project. But she could never resist a new venture in a part of the country she’s never visited.

Despite her excitement at having won this challenging contract, she was worried. Mr. Marshall had explained that the plantation house had been closed up for twenty-one years. He knew that was a long time, he’d written in his letter, and he hoped she could handle such a big job. Obviously, he didn’t know that plantation houses were often left empty for a hundred years or more.

Why had this mansion been uninhabited for such a relatively short time? She could understand the reason before plumbing and electricity. Installing both was a very expensive undertaking in buildings as large as the one he had described. But a house left vacant for twenty-one years should have modern conveniences, possibly even a dishwasher and garbage disposal. Yes, she mused, this should be a very easy undertaking considering her usual reconstruction projects.

Another cooling wave splashed onto her, and she sipped her salty drink. The water had awakened her to two realizations: There was no turning back on this project, and this margarita was much too salty with the ocean water that had splashed into it.

 ***

        Sitting on a stool at BLU’s Beach Bar of the Tides Folly Beach hotel, Coleman Marshall watched the lone woman with interest. Her standing on the beach wasn’t exactly the best idea with that storm approaching. It could come up much quicker than anticipated. When she spat her drink out, he chuckled aloud.

“What’s so funny, Cole?” the female bartender asked.

“See the woman in the white shorts?” he returned, not taking his gaze from her. “She’s been standing like that since I got here a half an hour ago, and she just took a drink. I suspect it’s a tad bit too salty for her.” Cole turned on his stool and faced the bartender. “Do you know what she’s drinking?”

“A frozen margarita.”

“Fix another one, would you? I have a dinner meeting at seven, but it’s only six. I’ve got plenty of time to make a new friend.”

“You’re never going to change, are you, Cole,” she observed as she started mixing the drink.”

“Maybe someday—when I find the right woman.”

 ***

        “Morocco,” a deep, masculine voice said.

Although lost in thought, Victoria didn’t even startle when he spoke. After years of working, sometimes even sleeping, in old houses while she renovated them, she’d become accustomed to sudden, unexpected noises. But she wasn’t interested in conversation, so she barely glanced at the stranger out of the corner of her eye to convey her displeasure at his interruption. “Pardon me?”

“That’s the next body of land you’ll come to if you sail straight from here.” In the brief moment she looked at him again, she saw his gaze wander up her long, slender legs from her trim ankles to the hem of her short shorts. “Unless, perhaps, you hit Madeira first—or some uncharted island.”

She shook her head in dismay. As original a pick-up line as that was, she didn’t want to talk to him. Apparently, her disinterested actions didn’t convey her desire that he leave her alone, because she’d given such a pleasant response, so this time she replied blandly. “I see.” Without thinking, she brought her glass toward her lips then, remembering that it was too salty to drink, stopped short.

“Here.” Another margarita suddenly appeared in front of her face. “I thought you could use a fresh one.”

“Thank you, but I don’t accept drinks from strangers.”

“I’ll admit that there probably aren’t too many men stranger than I, but I’m not a bad sort.”

Obviously she had to tell him point-blank to leave her alone. “Look, mister, …”

“Coleman, but all my friends call me Cole.”

“Fine. Look, Mr. Coleman, …”

Again he interrupted her. “That’s my first name, not my last.”

Stunned, Victoria straightened her shoulders, which forced her to rise to her full five-foot-eleven-inch height. This always put another couple of inches on her because she slumped to avoid appearing as tall as she was. The act usually caused men to leave her alone, but this man didn’t seem a bit phased by it.

Forcing the thought from her mind, she wondered if she had heard him correctly. Had he really said that his first name was Coleman? That couldn’t be possible. But how many Colemans could there be in the Savannah area? Not likely many. Curious, she turned her head toward him saw that he openly assessed her body. Normally, she would be embarrassed by such blatant appraisal, but she was so shocked she couldn’t even think straight.

The first thing she saw after that transient glance to his eyes was his small Adam’s apple, which bobbed as he swallowed. Her eyes followed the collar of his green knit shirt to the tantalizing suggestion of hair that peeked over the two open buttons. His shoulders were broad and well-muscled, his biceps prominent. More like Richard Gere than Sylvester Stallone, she thought absently. She forced her gaze to his face, where his sensuously full lips and strong, square chin caught her attention. Then she moved on to his sandy blond hair. Finally, she brought her gaze to rest on his eyes. They were the brightest green she’d ever seen, and in them she saw his approval of what he was viewing.

Only seconds after she looked up at him, Cole spoke again. “I don’t suppose you have a name.” Another wave crashed on the shoreline and splashed the pair. “Damn! Now I’m wet, too.” He grasped her elbow firmly yet tenderly and directed her off the beach and up to an empty table nearby in the outdoor bar as they continued their conversation. “And I won’t have time to dry out before my meeting.”

“Meeting?” she questioned. Maybe this was the man she was supposed to have dinner with.

He grinned impishly, a crooked smile that Victoria took an immediate fancy to. It transformed his masculine features into those of a mischievous boy.

“Not to worry,” he said. “I have plenty of time for a chat with you. What’s your name?”

“Victoria …” she replied before he interrupted again.

“No last names,” he insisted. “We’re just two people talking on the beach. That way there’s no involvement.”

Okay, buster, she thought with a scowl, if you want to play that way, I won’t tell you who I am.

They reached the table, and he set the margarita on it before pulling out the chair for her. They both sat before he pushed her drink across the white, metal table and said, “Now that you know my name—at least, part of it—you can accept this.”

“Thank you.” She took a sip of the margarita and moaned contentedly as she tapped her other glass. “This is a lot better than what I had.”

Chuckling, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his wide chest to examine her. Her face heated in embarrassment, and she desperately hoped she could calm down before his gaze returned to her face.

“So you say your name’s Victoria,” he said. “You don’t look like a Vicky to me.”

The heat left her face when she heard the sensual tone of his voice. She didn’t like men looking at or talking to her that way, and she had no intention of letting this annoying man get away with it. To block part of his view, she set her elbows on the table and leaned forward a little, icily insisting, “I’m not a Vicky. I’m Victoria, just like I said.”

Cole’s bright eyes widened in amazement. “You mean you actually go by Victoria? How can you stand it? By the time you’ve finished telling people your name, half the day is gone. Nobody should have a name more than two syllables long—and even that’s pushing it.” He examined her again while she took another sip of her margarita. “Well, I’m not going to call you Vicky. That’s a frumpy name.”

Infuriated by his attitude, she glared at him. Why were attractive men so often arrogant, too? He obviously thought by using his charm he could convince her that they would see each other again. She hadn’t given him any indication that would be the case. Letting her voice reinforce her irritation, she questioned him flatly. “What makes you think you’re going to be calling me anything?”

He examined at her for a moment, causing her to wonder what he was thinking. Although his unfaltering gaze made her a bit uncomfortable, it didn’t carry that expression of lust she’d seen earlier. She didn’t know what it was about long legs that attracted men, but she had often wished hers were short and stubby so she didn’t have to see those expressions.

Then his eyes grew even brighter in excitement, and he exclaimed, “I’ve got it! I’ll call you Tori.”

This time her own eyes widened in shock. As badly as she wanted to object, she couldn’t. There had been another man—one from far in her past—who had called her Tori. He’d left her when she was just six years old, vowing to love and visit her as often as he could. But he had died three years later, leaving behind a devastated daughter who swore nobody would ever call her Tori again.

Now the name sounded heavenly. Unexpected tears sprang to her eyes, and although she fought to keep them at bay, one slid slowly down her cheek.

As she sat there, unable to protest, Cole shot her a startled look. “Uh-oh. Looks like I chose the wrong name. Maybe I should stick to Victoria.”

“No.” With a shaky hand, she brushed away the annoying tear that had betrayed her aloofness. “I always liked Tori, but nobody’s called me that in years.”

“Then you don’t mind?” he asked hopefully.

“I guess not.” She glanced at her watch and saw that it was already six-fifteen. “Oh, no!”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, watching in amazement as she scrambled from her chair.

“Nothing.” She paused a moment to decide if she should admit the truth—that she believed he was the man she was supposed to meet for a business dinner soon. No, because she would feel foolish if he wasn’t Coleman R. Marshall. “I just have to meet somebody later. Thanks for the drink, but I can’t finish it.”

“Wait a minute, Tori!” he called as she hurried away.

Despite having heard him, she raced into the Tides hotel without even glancing over her shoulder. Something about that man made her nervous, and his attitude had nothing to do with it. Even the prospect of him being her new client didn’t seem to cause her anxiety.

She needed a shower to clear her mind so she could concentrate on her meeting with Coleman Marshall.

 ***

        Cole absently sank back into the chair and sipped the margarita. He had a feeling that they would see each other again, but he couldn’t understand why. She hadn’t given him any indication that she liked him, even though he had tried to charm her. Despite her distance, he liked Tori. She was a very pretty lady and very tall, which was one of his favorite qualities.

Actually, she was a lot taller than almost every woman or girl he’d ever dated. And she had such unusual gray-blue eyes, separated perfectly by her small nose. Beneath it was a pair of lush lips, full and only slightly wide for her face. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, but there was something about the character of her face that attracted him.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t ease the unexpected wrenching in his gut. It seemed to come from nowhere. In fact, he’d never experienced such a feeling before, and he had no idea how to classify it. All he could say for certain was that he sensed something horrible was going to happen. No, he was sure of it.

I’m obviously still learning to blog because it took me a little while to figure out how to add a new one.

My decision on the book I’m going to put here in weekly chapters is entitled Shadows of the Past. It was published with an obscure publisher many years ago. Since then, I’ve taken it out of publication and am now going to revise it. I think doing a weekly blog will keep me motivated.

Right now, though, I’m watching Sons of Liberty on the History Channel. I’ve always been interested in the Revolutionary War period, and when I found out that I actually had ancestors who fought in the war, I only became more interested. Both my birth and my adoptive families had “revolutionaries” in them. My adoptive mother’s ancestors were even at Valley Forge with General Washington.

Tonight I watch the first episode of Sons of Liberty (thank goodness for DVR so I don’t have to watch the commercials). Tomorrow is soon enough to edit.

Welcome to my first book blog.

I’m learning a lot of different things today. First I got onto a new website I found where I can get some editing/ghostwriting projects.

Now I’m beginning my first blog post. Books by Liz will include a weekly chapter of one of my books in progress, as well as give links to books I have published with Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing. At the moment I have three there: Kindred Desires, Visions of Love (both historical romances) and Twin Creek Claim (a romantic intrigue), Visions of love is also in trade paperback format at Amazon.com.

Later this week, I will announce the book title of my weekly installment blog.

Hopefully, I’ll submit three or four blogs throughout the week, probably posting various musings that I’m looking forward to trying something new in retirement. Or will I find that an old dog really can’t learn new tricks?