The weekend slid by without much drama, crisis, or fanfare. But hey, it wasn’t Monday yet. Little did I know Monday was preparing to kick my ass. And kick my ass it did. The week started simple enough—fresh bagels and blessed coffee. Who doesn’t like waking up to the prospect of fresh bagels, right? The night before I’d made a trip to Whole Foods to pick up a few things. The bagels were an afterthought. They’re great toasted smeared with cream cheese, right? That is, if they’re already sliced. Trust me on this. Unfortunately I bought the kind that wasn’t pre-cut. Simple fix. I take one out to toast, but first it needs cutting in half. This is where things go very wrong. I sliced open my finger instead of cutting the bagel. I’m bleeding like I’ve been stabbed so I grab a kitchen towel, wrap it around the wound to stop the flow of blood. All that red has ruined my bagel. After finally getting the bleeding under control, I’m out of the mood for the bagel. Totally. I throw back my caffeine fix like I’ve been a castaway on some tropical island for the past seven years. After getting enough coffee in me, I decide to run to the store for more Neosporin to smear on my owie. I’m also out of Band-Aids. Anyway, I get to my car, which is parked in the garage, and it won’t start. Nothing. It seems I have a dead battery because the night before—after making the trip to Whole Foods—I left the door open all night. The seat belt apparently got tangled up and kept the door from closing. After waiting for AAA to show up, I start out to the store and discover the place where I shop had a power outage during the night and they’re closed until further notice. At this point, I give up and surrender to Monday’s black hole. I drive back home, close the drapes, and crawl into bed. I figure I’ll try this again when it’s not Monday.
My hubby and I have been together for more years than I care to count. Somewhere during our early time together we developed a habit that pretty much has stayed with us. That is, we read the same book, more or less, around the same time and then sit for hours thoroughly vetting it. Back when we first got together, he liked stuff like The Hobbit and was responsible for finally getting me to read it. Once I did, I fell in love with the world Tolkien had created. His famous trilogy, Lord of the Rings, might’ve been the first trilogy I ever read, and yes, each book was a cliffhanger, and I LOVED that about them!! We read the books together, even read them aloud to our son. These days we trade genres. We listen to true crime or mysteries the same way we watch movies on Netflix or Prime and with certain TV shows (most recently Goliath) by discussing the heck out of them. We go over the characters, the pace, what we would’ve done differently, and re-read or re-watch the ones we like best. From one book lover to another, summer is our finest hour. During the land of reruns and the lack of anything good on TV, we can always crack open a book. We relish the search through our Kindle for something we haven’t yet tried. Or we load something new on the iPad and get comfy in bed. While we dissect the plot lines and laugh at the characters, we’re still connecting. After all these years, we still enjoy what began a long time ago…our love for books.
After perusing through Instagram using the hashtag #containergardening and the like, I’ve decided that’s definitely the way to go. It means getting past the way my dad gardened. It means giving up on an actual “in-the-ground” concept and abandoning digging in the ground every spring for good. It also means giving up weeding and opting for a more sensible approach without putting strain on my back, a back that’s getting older by the minute.
I’m stoked to get started.
Inspired by the Home Depot commercial and the sexy voice of Josh Lucas where he encourages everyone to, “Let’s Do This,” I went shopping. I purchased bags and bags of soil, along with cute little seedlings and starter plants, anything that might produce pretty, aromatic yield. I treated myself to a new pair of gardening gloves, a few new containers, although using the concept of a neighbor, I already have a lot of “junk” containers to toss into the mix and some gorgeous ones I got on sale last month to celebrate spring.
I’ll document my progress on Instagram: @ vickie.mckeehan.author
But first I have to spend the weekend putting it all in pots. Woohoo! I can already see several upsides. I’m thinking of getting a dog soon and won’t have to worry about the little thing digging up anything I plant. Smaller space means using less water. Or so I hope. My back is already celebrating an easier time of it.
Ocean. Sand. Long summer nights. A sexy Cape Cod escape.
What could possibly go wrong?
Simon Bremmer has put war and the Army behind him. He’s living the good life stateside in Pelican Pointe. He’s doing what he loves. His business is booming. He has no complaints. But all that is about to change when he gets a visit from a Boston lawyer. She not only drops a bombshell but delivers a package he never expected.
Single mom, Gilly Grant, has given up on men. She’s trying to raise her three-year-old son by herself and deal with her mother, who has suddenly developed complicated health issues. When Simon walks into the hospital on her shift, the world as she knows it tilts toward a love she never wanted or expected.
Together these two will forge a bond that grows deeper until one night it’s all put to the ultimate test. Will Simon be able to pull Pelican Pointe back from the brink of tragedy? Will he be able to save its future? Will he be able to come through for the people he loves?
For this former sniper who’s tried so hard to put the war behind him and live a normal life, he may find it all too much, because this time everything he loves hangs in the balance.
Books 9 and 10 in the series.
Sandcastles back cover:
A new town. A new beginning. A Christmas he’ll never forget.
Quentin Blackwood has come to Pelican Pointe to replace Jack Prescott as the town’s one and only doctor. But he’s in for a tough time, especially since nurse Sydney Reed doesn’t quite trust him. But that’s just one of the many problems Quentin must face as he tries to help a teenage boy and his grandmother going through hard times.
It’s all happening with Christmas approaching—a holiday that should mean hearth, home, and plenty of family. But with Quentin, it only brings up haunting memories of a past he’s tried to forget.
Will Pelican Pointe be able to work its magic on the new doctor in time for him to find a new meaning to the holiday? Or will despair win out one more time?
A doctor at a crossroads. A woman who’s given up. And the boy who brings them together.
Beneath Winter Sand back cover:
A brother who disappeared. A mystery worth solving. A love worth finding.
Hannah Summers lost her innocence the day she came home from school and found police cars in front of her house. Her parents are dead, her loss is deep, but its more than that—her baby brother, Micah, is missing.
Vowing to find Micah no matter what she has to do or how long she has to search, Hannah ends up in Pelican Pointe with more questions than answers. She’s holding on to a shred of hope that Micah is still alive. While Hannah isn’t looking for love, one resident has other ideas. Caleb Jennings has his own demons to deal with, but he wants more than anything to help Hannah find her brother.
Little do they know they’re about to embark on a life-changing course, a course that will end her twenty-year long search and solve a mystery of what happened the day her parents died. Along the way, they’ll uncover a former politician’s scandalous life, and reveal secrets long buried.
While it always seems to be busy at my house, lately it’s gone past that and veered into crazy busy. Insane busy. My goal was to release four books this year and I’m already beginning to feel the burn and it isn’t even May yet. I’m putting the finishing touches on Keeping Cape Summer before sending it off to the editor which is always a stressful time. After I push that send button, I’m jumping right into Sea of Bones, which I already have outlined. I couldn’t do any of this without my partner in crime, my husband, Gene, my soul mate. While I crank out 3,000 words a day, this man does the shopping, the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, he’s a workhorse and I appreciate him every single day. Each morning when I settle into my office to begin whatever project I’m working on at the time, I know he has things covered elsewhere. And there’s always a lot to cover. I’m deep into plot lines and he’s handling a dozen extra things that need to be taken care of before 5 p.m. On top of all the household stuff and cooking, there are business issues to deal with, always things to get done, like marketing, schedules to create, books to sign and get out the door, book covers to plan, banners to create, the to-do list is never-ending. Throw in social media posts, like keeping a blog going, websites to update, Twitter feeds to check, Instagram to add, Pinterest, and you see where this is going. Without him, there would be no books because he keeps EVERYTHING running smoothly and keeps me clicking along toward another novel.
Me? I just write. Gene does everything else. To me, if they gave out an award for best hubbies, he’d win Husband of the Year or maybe World’s Best Husband hands down because he goes above and beyond, each and every day. We’re a team. Soul mates. And I know darn well, it isn’t easy living with a moody, things-aren’t-going-well writer. On those days when that happens, he’s my cheerleader. I can’t ask for more than that.