Paperbacks and E-Books available now!
Can small town busy-bodies
know more about your life than you do?.
Her hideout was perfect except for the Loneliness...
and the man determined to find her.
Put a little joy and romance into your day with this fun read.
"Where was the man who could win her heart?
The man who could carry on the Kris Kringle legend?
Somehow she couldn’t mesh the two.
The man of my dreams and my father just weren’t the same man."
ISBN # 1-60154-017-5
When two artistic recluses pick the same mountain to hide on…
Someone is bound to be found out.
Read review...
Cast
Chris Brandt:
Age 41, the real person behind the mysterious recluse Chriz façade.
A talented painter with no talent for choosing men.
Mike Brooks:
Age 44, world wise and weary,
a photographer who has lost his Focus
and finds it with his missing heart.
Liz:
Chris’s companion and confidant.
A large bay pinto mule,
with strong opinions and an ego to match.
Beth:
Chris’s best friend.
A bubbly optimist who works at the Ranger station nearby
and is very happily married to Steve.
Steve:
The head ranger,
a soft spoken man of quiet strength,
protective of everything and everyone on his mountain.
Lance:
Mike’s assistant,
brilliant with people and cameras.
Vivian:
Ex model friend of Mikes
and co owner of the art gallery Favorite Things.
Reynard:
Husband and partner of Vivian.
Gary:
Steve’s right hand man at the ranger station.
Cora:
Chris’s Aunt, steel draped in silk.
Excerpt from the book…
Chris rode along scanning the skies and highpoints that seemed likely perches for eagles; Liz naturally following the twisting path as it wound in and out of the tree line.
Chris knew she could count on Liz to handle the navigation, no mule was foolish enough to place their feet on bad ground.
Liz would follow the current path till it ended, or she was directed otherwise; she was the ultimate in ‘cruise control’. So Chris concentrated her gaze upward.
“Look!” she cried pointing.
Halting, the molly did, her long ears pointing at them as surely as Chris’s finger. Two eagles were floating on outstretched wings, riding the air currents with practiced ease.
Liz and Chris held still watching the graceful ballet; at least two of the six were still here, alive and well.
Voices? Yes, Mike was sure he had heard someone talking. How amazing, in all the trips he had made up here, he had never seen anyone.
Sometimes some sign that someone had been by, but never another person, not even at great distance. It had been one of the things he had loved about the area; how fortuitous that they should appear now when he needed help.
“Hello!” he shouted. Needing help was a little foreign to him, he was normally very self reliant; however he had quickly discovered that he would not
be able to get out of this predicament without assistance. Apparently he had hit his head on a rock and it had dazed him; he had one heck of a headache.
As soon as he had tried to move, he found he had a bigger problem; the ankle that had tangled with the root absolutely refused to take him another step.
He wondered too, if shock was getting to him, he felt terribly cold and sore all over, and to add to it, his camera had hooked on a branch out of reach. He couldn’t even check to see if it was broken.
“Hello!” he called again.
Liz’s keen ears had caught the first call and shifted in its direction. Chris, ever mindful of the molly’s greater senses, had shut up and focused in that direction too, straining to pick up on what had drawn her attention. Chris heard the second call.
“Hello!” she responded. Urging Liz forward, heading for what she and the rangers referred to as the brink. Sounded like another hiker had gone over the edge.
http://www.thewildrosepress.com
Order NOW;
'Mike, The Molly and Me'
A collection of short romantic stories,
perfect for a little 'pick-me-up'.
Check out my story, 'Led Down The Garden Path'...
"Mark knew everything about Josephine Rose Burdette, except where she was."
"The sprawling three-story building looked to have been built
by a Victorian enthusiast drunk on Southern Comfort.
Four, two story columns flanked the main entrance
and a rambling veranda surrounded them taking in the entire front of the structure.
Rose hedges instead of railings denoted the edge of the porch.
Elaborate rose shaped ginger breading bedecked the porch and main rooflines.
The whole of it painted graduated shades of rose, mauve, and pink with some green trim.
It was enough to make a weaker man sick."
all available at
http://www.thewildrosepress.com
Order NOW
Paperbacks and E-Books available now!
or through Amazon
Print books may also be ordered through your favorite bookstore.
A little bit about the author...
Deborah Tompkins is a lifetime inhabitant of the Catskill foothills, born with the urge to put words and images to paper. A confirmed read-aholic and part-time freelance illustrator and writer, lightly published in local papers and national magazines. My love of creative pursuits such as writing, art and gardening is surpassed only by my devotion(addiction?) to horses.
When health forced a change from the active outdoors of equestrian pursuits I decided to turn the hobbies into a vocation and went to college to learn ‘computer graphics’ twenty-eight years after high school graduation. Despite finishing with a 3.92 GPA and honors diploma, no ‘related’ employment could be gained.
However the home computer has allowed me to realize another dream… writing novels. Previously I hadn’t finished anything of length because I couldn’t get through the rewrite process. Now it is so easy to ‘adjust’ words, sentences even paragraphs or whole pages that I actually enjoy the process.
So here I sit with two cats in attendance, fingers trying to keep up with all those stories rushing through my head eager to promenade merrily across the screen.
