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Thursday, April 19, 2012

Planning doesn't mean diddly.

I had planned to talk all about the last book in the Second Chances series when I posted to the blog this month. But, we all know what they say about life and plans. Writers, I think more than any other profession have to deal with life's curves. Everyone seems to think you can write later. That whatever they need you for is more important. Calls that would never go to dad because he is "working" always seem to come your way.

Now, this may sound like excuses, and that is all they are. I should have stayed up more nights to write. I should have stayed off the internet more. I should have unplugged the phone. LOL

So, A Family Again is coming along, but nowhere near where I need it to be. I had hoped to publish at the beginning of April, now it will probably be end of April/beginning of May. On the other hand, that is the joy of self-publishing. We don't have to kill ourselves (figuratively) to meet a deadline. We finish, edit, and publish on our own schedules, which I will now have to change.

I would like to share a moment from A Family Again because I'm really loving this story and I can't wait to share the whole book and the completion of the series.
This is the unedited Prologue to my book, A Family Again


“We the jury, in the case of The State of California vs. Megan Marie Kirby, on the count of Embezzlement, do find the defendant -- guilty.”

Megan gasped as tears rolled down her face and pains roiled across her nine-months pregnant stomach. How could they have found her guilty? She hadn’t taken the money from her job. She was innocent.

All thoughts of guilt or innocence fled her mind as the pain increased to a crescendo of ringing in her ears. Her blood pulsed in her veins in time with the judge’s gravel pounding for order.
Something deep inside ripped, fluid gushed down her legs, and the world went black.

* * *

The drive to the hospital was a nightmare with a deputy sitting in the ambulance with her and her husband, Daniel. She squeezed his hand as another contraction rolled over her. Screams erupted from her throat as the deputy just glared at her.

At the hospital the doors to the ambulance ripped open and sun painted the vehicle in brightness. Megan squinted into the light, amazed that such a beautiful day could bring her happiness and sadness at the same time.

The doctors took charge as she writhed on the gurney, the pain surrounding her. She’d spent part of her pregnancy in jail, with no Lamaze classes to help the waves rolling her under. At twenty-two years old she felt like a child, just wanting her mother to come and take away the pain like the time she fell and skinned her knees.

In the labor room the deputy stepped forward to slap cuffs on her hand and the bed rail. Daniel growled and pushed him away. She tried to scream at her husband to stop. He couldn’t be here for her if he was in jail next. The nurse stepped between them. She spoke calmly to Daniel and he moved back to her side. She barked at the deputy.

“Don’t be stupid. She isn’t going anywhere for hours.”

Pains ripped across her stomach. She stared as the skin roiled from inside. The doctor moved between her legs.

“I think we’ll check your progress.”

The nurses moved her feet into the stirrups. Pain pierced her as the doctor checked. He grunted and looked at her. “We are moving along nicely.”

It didn’t feel nice, not at all. She just wanted to have the baby and go home. Hot tears rolled down her face. Even the agony of childbirth for days was better than the reality of going to prison once this was done.

Time passed in spurts. Pain rolled over her and time stood still. She fell back against the sweat-wet pillow and the second hand on the clock across from her bed flew around the dial.

A nurse moved to her right side and Daniel came to her left. They grasped her hands and helped her to sit forward.

“It’s time to push,” the nurse instructed.

“You can do this, Megan. You can do anything,” Daniel urged her on.

Two hours later, drenched in sweat but as happy as she’d ever been, Megan gazed down into her daughter’s tiny, scrunched up face. The puffy pink blanket surrounded her red face. Her husband stood beside the bed, his hand shaking as it slid over the baby’s head.

“What do you want to call her?”

Megan stared at the pale yellow curls and the bright black eyes of her daughter. “Her name is Daisy.”

I hope you'll read A Family Again once it is available. In the meantime please try Divorce, Interrupted and Someone To Trust, Books 1 and 2 in the series. Available at Amazon, BN.com, and Smashwords



  1. Plans? I have a lot of them. As you mentioned, they don't mean diddly when life intervenes.

  2. I think we can all agree that the surest way to have you life disrupted is to make plans. *g* The old aphorism--man proposes and God disposes--still holds true.

  3. Jill, I love this excerpt. Finish it, girl. I also have a book to finish in the next three weeks, although I wonder if it can be done. Too many people have already planned most of my time. "Much more important than your writing." I can't believe how everything is always much more important than my writing.

  4. Thanks for the comments. Sorry I missed them. I've spent the week in a sinus drugs fog.