Welcome, Maria. Let’s talk ice cream…okay, okay, well, we can talk about that later. How about your new book? That title sounds delicious. Is it part of the new One Scoop or Two series by The Wild Rose Press?
You betcha!
Tell us about the book.
New Jersey, 1951…
After a family crisis, Katie Hathaway must return home to help out in the family's ice cream shop. She leaves behind her dream job of teaching ballroom dance to spend her summer scooping ice cream and mixing milkshakes.
Chaz Hollander, Katie's high school crush, has also returned to town to work in his family's business. After Katie treats him to a blueberry swirl sundae, he invites her to the town's upcoming dance. The only problem is he has two left feet.
When Katie starts giving Chaz dance lessons, their chemistry ignites, and the postponement of her dream doesn't seem as ominous. But financial woes and a suspicious business deal cast a shadow on their budding relationship.
When did your writing journey begin?
As a busy matrimonial lawyer, days were long, but productive. In the office by 8:30 – I had a full day of client meetings or phone calls with those clients, adversaries or experts hired for the case, a court appearance or mediation, drafting of motions for relief or settlement proposals. Before I knew it, it was 6:30 and I had to get home for dinner, to help kids with homework, attend a school event or a myriad of other things.
While my life was packed, when I would fall into bed at night, I always had a book on my nightstand. Even if I could only keep my eyes open for a few pages, I read. One such night, I was reading a book by a bestselling author and she was annoying me. She said the same thing on page 103 as she had said on page 100. I silently berated her by stating that we are not stupid readers. “We got it the first time,” was followed up by “I bet I could do this.”
And that was the start of my writing journey, twenty-three years ago. I knew nothing about writing fiction at that time, nor did I know how to word process. Attending seminars, conferences, reading how-to books, and writing whenever I could, finally led to my first publishing contract—fifteen years later.
What was your inspiration for The Blueberry Swirl Waltz?
“The Blueberry Swirl Waltz” is set at an ice cream shoppe in the small town of Roebling, NJ during 1951. It is based on my grandmother’s ice cream and confectionery shop on the corner, which I loved to visit (in the 60s)—spinning on the red leather stools, sipping on an ice cream soda at the counter, and playing with my cousins on the sidewalk outside of the shop. The heroine is based on my mother when she worked as a ballroom dance teacher in Trenton, while in her early twenties. It was so much fun to talk to my mom and reminisce with her over the old days. I posted two interviews with my mom (one about the shop and one about her dancing days) on my blog at https://mariaimbalzano.com/blog/. There are also some photos there from that period of time of my grandmother and mom standing outside of the shop. This was truly a labor of love.
Maria, her desk, and two photos from one of her favorite places to visit, The Amalfi Coast (Italy).
NOW FOR AN EXCERPT…
Then the music ended.
She stood in his arms, unable to step away.
He lifted her chin with steady fingers, and his sensuous gaze roamed from her eyes to her mouth. “So beautiful,” he murmured.
A thousand butterfly wings beat in her chest.
Ever so slowly he lowered his head before brushing her lips with his. Light as a feather, he kissed her tenderly, and her hands drifted to strong shoulders, closing the infinitesimal space between them. Her head swam as his mouth captured hers in a more passionate exchange. His tongue swept against hers, fanning the fire she’d been trying to keep under control.
Muscled arms held her against him, sending her passion into overdrive. His palms roamed down her back, awakening every atom, every synapse, every nerve, before settling on her hips. Heat then fire swarmed her body as they pressed against each other while their tongues tangled.
The scrape of the record player needle circling the vinyl was the only witness to their flaming desire.
Dancing had never been so good.
