Category: Book Topics

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

I’ve written about Save Our Allies (https://saveourallies.org) before, but back in 2022 the focus was on the rescue missions done to save Americans and allies in Afghanistan after the U.S. withdrawal. This great organization is also serving here at home, particularly after Hurricane Helene in western North Carolina, where they’re rescuing people cut off from towns, homes, even roads. My dad, as well as Jack’s family, was from the Asheville area but “up the mountain,” if you know what I mean.

Fortunately, I know that my folks are all safe and helping each other recover. But there is still so much to do and so much help needed. The mission of Save Our Allies is to serve where Americans need them the most. Please post a comment and I will donate to this worthy outfit. Thank you!

For Asheville, NC:

Even having lived in Virginia Beach for many years, my experience with hurricanes was small. But my senior year of high school, in Florida, I experienced a somewhat mile Hurricane Camille. Somewhat mild in Florida. When she raced north, through Alabama, Tennessee, North Carolina and up the Shenandoah Valley into Virginia, she somehow gained strength in destruction. She wiped out the town of Vesuvius in Virginia and caused a 100-year flood on the James River up the road from what would one day become my hometown. Now, Helene has done the same to the area of North Carolina that I visited so often as a child. Dad was from an area outside Asheville called Sandy Mush. I have no idea why. Now the population is 344 but it was much less back in the day. It was a mystical place filled with hard-working people who dealt with hardship and praised God for their blessings. The terrain was so mountainous that my uncle’s barn and cows were on one steep slope, while across the road the land dropped off so sharply, the roof on his house is all you could see from the road. Having grown up in the city, Sandy Mush was like going to a different planet. But it was fun. In that regard, I could identify with Jack/Kyle in my book.

This excerpt is from what was originally titled It’s All Relative. This book will be republished very soon and I don’t even have a working title or cover yet. It’s the closest thing I’ve written that pays homage to Asheville and Wonderful Western North Carolina and too my family still there—and thankfully safe (though not sound, yet) after Helene.

Blurb:
When Jack and Sally meet one weekend in Nags Head, neither are prepared for the instantaneous attraction they feel. It makes both of them nervous, and while it was wonderful, there’s relief felt when the weekend ends. Months later, in a city on the opposite side of the state, Geneva Jameson is shocked to meet Kyle McCaislin, the cousin she’d never met—and the man she’d known as Jack. Sparks fly between the two as they try to deal with their quandary, not knowing the many surprises before them. Will their hearts discover what their minds already know? That in passion as in life, things aren’t always what they seem.

Buy link:
Coming soon

Excerpt:
Just when she thought they were finished, the minister gestured for her to come forward. What was this? She didn’t have a part in the service. She had turned slightly to see if someone behind her was getting up, when Kyle stood and walked to the front. He moved behind the podium, rested his hands on each side and looked out into the church.

“Good morning. I know it’s late and hot and I won’t keep you. My name is Kyle McCaislin and my father was known to some of you here.” Geneva heard a murmur of voices in acknowledgement. “I only wanted to share with you some few remembrances of my namesake, my grandfather. I can’t say I spent much time with him, but he ensured that the time we had together was meaningful and exciting. Especially to a young boy.

“My sister and I grew up in New York City, in a brick building in a block of other brick buildings and concrete streets. It was a nice section of Manhattan and we had a good childhood, but starting from when I was quite little my dad brought me home, here to Asheville, to spend a month each summer with his parents, and I saw a world totally different from where I lived.” Kyle glanced at the front row of people. “Unfortunately, these visits always took place during the time you and your families were off on vacations, so we never got the chance to get to know each other. Based on the fact that we never had contact, I’d say that was all planned, for some reason.” He looked at Geneva, and then out into the church again. “Feelings between my dad and Grandpa weren’t good when Dad left home, but they made things up over the years, and by the time of our last visit, when I was eighteen, the love between them was evident.”

Kyle cleared his throat and looked down at the podium for a moment before continuing. “When I was small, I only remember a big man. Gruff to everyone but me, with whom he was gentle as a lamb. I sat on his stomach as he lay on the sofa and read me stories. He was a horse on the living room floor when I wanted to be a cowboy. He was an endless source of stories about the fairies and magic of Scotland, and a boon companion when grandma baked scones and we sat on the back steps eating them slathered with butter, watching the clouds.

“When I was older, Grandpa took me on hikes around the estate, pointing out trees, flowers, bushes, animals. He was a genius when it came to planting and gardening, and he knew every bird in the forest.” Kyle smiled, as he noted heads nodding in agreement. “Visits to the Biltmore gardens were frequent, and we went on other trips, too. He showed me where O. Henry had once lived, out in Weaverville, landmarks for Thomas Wolfe and the Carl Sandburg home. He once slid off Slippery Rock with me, and we admired the view from Blowing Rock. He showed me Grandfather Mountain where the highland games are played, and Cade’s Cove in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, where we watched bears lumber across our path. These things all inspired a boy who spent most of his year surrounded by mountains of skyscrapers rather than mountains covered with trees and mountain laurel, and Grandpa knew it. He wanted me to know his world and be able to imagine it when I was home, so far from him. And I did.

“He had a good philosophy for life too, and as a teenager, when I began to feel the urge to rebel in some way, he told me stories replete with life lessons. His eyes would twinkle when he got to the ‘punch line’ and he saw that I got it. Usually his parables were laced with the Golden Rule, the importance of being true to one’s self, the joy that comes from being generous, in business, life and love, the vital connection between family—I think he emphasized that because of the trouble between him and Dad—and that nothing—nothing—is as important as love itself.” Kyle glanced at Geneva.

“These were all tenets he embraced, as was obvious to anyone who ever knew him. I’ve tried hard to keep these lessons in mind as I’ve grown and gone into business for myself, and although I can’t say I have always paid attention to them, they’ve been in my heart as a compass for me to find my way back to the right path. I hope I’ve grown into a man he would be proud of. As proud as I was that he was my grandpa.”

Geneva felt a lump in her throat. What her uncle and the others had said about granddad had been touching, but hearing these things about her grandfather from someone she didn’t realize even knew him, was very moving. Kyle’s recollections of granddad were somewhat different from her own, but basically it was obvious that they had loved the same man. She could hear sniffling coming from several points behind her and knew that Kyle was touching a chord with more people than just her. She wondered why her grandfather had kept all of this such a secret. And here Kyle had kept in touch with him until he was eighteen. She wondered why he had stopped.

“Finally, although my visits stopped when I started college, Grandpa and I always kept in touch. We wrote constantly and exchanged gifts at Christmas.”

Geneva stared at Kyle in shock. It was like a movie she had seen on TV once where a man died and it came out that he had two families in different parts of the country. Her granddad had led a whole secret life right up until he died, evidently. She knew it was selfish, but she had always thought she was her grandfather’s favorite and now a small part of her felt betrayed. She still loved him fiercely, and missed him horribly, but here was a side of him that she hadn’t even known. Right along with a cousin she hadn’t known.

“While I was in the service and again after I started in business, I was able to travel. I got to Scotland several times and have been able to visit the town where he and grandma grew up. As he would say, it’s a bonny place, and very much like the area around here, which I’m sure is one reason he loved Asheville so much. I’m sorry he’s gone from our lives, but I’m glad he and grandma are together again, and I’m glad to be able to get to know, finally, the family I’ve missed knowing these many years. Thank you.”

When Kyle returned to his seat Geneva noticed moisture in the corners of his eyes. She leaned her arm against him to give some small comfort. The final hymn was announced and she nudged him with her elbow. He leaned down and under the brim of her hat. “That was very nice,” she whispered, suddenly aware with every nerve in her that his mouth was enticingly close. But he simply nodded and stood up again.

A little about me:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website. And all three offer some of the best romance you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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