An Undefeated Book Series—in more way than one by Karina Bartow

An Undefeated Book Series—In More Ways than One

In June 2015, all of my professional dreams seemed to be coming true and in rapid succession. Not only had I just signed my first publishing contract, but the publisher expressed interest in a sequel. After learning I’d already written one and planned two more, he asked if I had a title for my series.

My series? A few days earlier, I didn’t know if the first book would ever see the light of day!

Needless to say, I felt like I’d been shot into space with hardly a chance to buckle my seatbelt. I started to brainstorm what I could call my series right away, as my publisher flooded my inbox with suggestions. None of them grabbed me, though, and my euphoria soon turned to frustration, with the perfect name eluding me.

The Undeafeated Detective…

When Minka Avery left the police department and her life as a deaf detective, she thought chasing after her toddler daughter and keeping tabs on her mischievous husband would be the extent of her excitement. Before long, however, her brother lands on the list of suspects in a high-profile crime and throws her world into chaos.

Torn between her conflicted feelings for him and her desire to see justice carried out, she decides to unofficially explore the matter on her own. She begins to see that the case is bigger than it seemed at first glance, but before she can unravel it further, she discovers Robin using her garage as a hideout from the authorities!

Now forced together, can Minka overcome the many distractions to figure out the massive scheme that's really playing out? And can the bizarre circumstances somehow improve her and Robin's chilly relationship?      

Under pressure, I half-heartedly agreed with his idea of “The Deaf Detective Series” but it didn’t satisfy me. Sure, the books do follow a deaf detective, but being disabled myself, I’ve never liked to be known for my handicap. I’d resent if anyone titled a book about me, “The Story of the Author with Cerebral Palsy”.

I retreated into my room to listen to some music, which has always played a significant part in my creative process. One of my favorite bands had just released a new album, and it featured a song about being undefeated. When it came on, the lyrics and melody resonated with me, and I thought of how it suited my novel. Despite the challenges the protagonist, Minka, faced in the plot, she comes out victorious every time, undefeated.

Then, it struck me: The UnDEAFeted Detective Series.

My publisher was reluctant to put an intentional typo on a book, but I persuaded him by showing him a concept for a logo, which would separate the a. An artist polished it up for us, making it an integral part of the book. To me, it represented Minka’s resilience in joining the police force despite her handicap, as well as what she faces in the series—including her husband’s having to enter witness protection in the first installment, Husband in Hiding.

At the time, I couldn’t foresee how the theme of “undefeated” would relate to the production of the rest of the series. Two years later, the publishing company restructured, and I ended up being released from my contract. Obviously, they wouldn’t proceed with the sequels to follow, so I suddenly had three manuscripts on my hands with no prospects to get them published.

I had doubts about a different company picking up a series that’d already been started, but like Minka, I persisted. As rejections rolled in, I feared it would be “defeated”, until The Wild Rose Press accepted its long-awaited second installment, Brother of Interest, with a release date coming soon.

To my fellow authors, may this show you the power of perseverance…and the power of a title!

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A Gazebo in a Town that Time Forgot by Wendy Rich Stetson

Wendy Rich Stetson – Guest Post

Looking for a magical spot to get engaged?  Might I suggest a gazebo.

More specifically, a whimsical, Victorian gazebo ringed by wild tiger lilies in a tiny mountain town that time forgot. 

photo by Terry Wild

Nestled in the Endless Mountains of Pennsylvania, Eagles Mere is a gem of a village.  If you didn’t grow up in PA, you’ve likely never heard of it.  Even if you did, the odds are slim.  At the turn of the 20th century, Eagles Mere was a booming resort town, hugely popular among the residents of Philadelphia’s Main Line.  The magnificent, Queen Anne style “cottages” lining the leafy streets are a testament to the wealth that once congregated in this summer community.  And crystalline Eagles Mere Lake, dotted on sunny summer afternoons by striped sails and colorful kayaks, is a haven.

The Eagles Mere Playhouse was legendary in its day, attracting well-known actors such as Charlton Heston and Patricia Neal to tread the boards.  I grew up in farm country not far away as the crow files, though the wide-open fields and rolling ridges of my hometown are nothing like the forests surrounding Eagles Mere Lake.  In my early twenties, I found my way to the storied Players Cottage on Pennsylvania Avenue as a teacher and performer at the Ensemble Theatre Community School. That summer, I fell in love with the quaint historic town and its Sweet Shop ice cream parlor and quaint sandy beach, and of course, with its gazebo. 

On a summer night in 1993, my then boyfriend and I lingered on the steps of that Victorian folly, gazing into the heavens and whispering plans for the future.  Overhead, the sky was impossibly starry, and a lifetime unspooled before us like the sparkling, silver path of the Milky Way.  Sitting at his side in the dark, I had a sudden inkling he might, out of the blue, ask me to marry him. With a heart-fluttering thrill, I realized if he did, I would say yes.  But he is a New Hampshire boy and impulsive as a hunk of granite.  A spur of the moment marriage proposal was not the way this particular future doctor chose to make major life decisions.  But he considered it, that night under the stars.  And somehow, I knew he considered it.  A year later, in that very same gazebo, he got down on one knee, and with a ring that I helped pick out, he proposed.

What surprises me, as I write this post twenty-seven summers later, is that until now, I never drew the connection between that mountaintop gazebo and the gazebo that brings together the hero and heroine in my debut romance, “Hometown.”  In a little town (not unlike my hometown), a tall red-haired young woman (not unlike me) finds the courage to ask a strong and silent Amish carpenter (not unlike my husband) to build a very special gazebo in her yard.  He agrees, and in many ways, that gazebo brings them together. Though the gazebo in my story bears little resemblance to the one in Eagles Mere, the two structures are of one family.  Call them summer houses, follies, or belvederes, gazebos exist for no other reason than to bring joy.  Their mission is to beautify, delight, and inspire.

I can’t imagine a better place to begin a life together.  

When all roads lead home, choosing one is far from simple…

When Tessa's big-city plans take the A Train to disaster, she lands in her sleepy hometown, smack in the middle of the most unlikely love triangle ever to hit Pennsylvania's Amish Country.

Hot-shot Dr. Richard Bruce is bound to Green Ridge by loyalty that runs deep. Deeper still is Jonas Rishel's tie to the land and his family's Amish community. Behind the wheel of a 1979 camper van, Tessa idles at a fork in the road. Will she cruise the superhighway to the future? Or take a slow trot to the past and a mysterious society she never dreamed she'd glimpse from the inside?

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EXCERPT:

The girl entwined her fingers in her skirt and tugged the fabric tight. “Your hair is the same color as my cat, and she’s the best cat in the world.” In a heartbeat, she fled and buried her face in the man’s lap.

“My goodness.  What a compliment.  Thank you.” She fumbled with the clasp of her wallet, discovering only then she smooshed her thumb deep into the whoopie pie.

The elfin child giggled and bounced on bare toes.

Standing, the man swept her into his arms and smiled down at Tessa. “Rebecca has not seen many women with ginger hair.”

Ginger hair. For years, she was tormented by boneheaded boys shouting, “Carrot Top” and “Flame.” No one ever called her mane ginger. Beneath his candid gaze, her curls heated like embers, warming her from top to toe. Who was this man?

The girl wriggled, knocking askew his straw hat.

Originally from Central PA, Wendy Rich Stetson is a Broadway & TV actress, audiobook narrator, and now the author of “Hometown,” a sweet and funny, small town Amish romance.

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He tossed her under one arm like a sack of flour and righted it, loosening a tawny curl that escaped the wide brim and fell over one brow. His gaze passed over Tessa’s face.  

Her unruly hair and short shorts tweaked at her consciousness. What did the Amish call outsiders? English? She was definitely dressed like an English woman. And not one from a Jane Austen novel.

He deposited the giggling girl right-side up on the floor and approached the table. “I’ve rarely seen hair that color myself. Like a copper penny.”

She stared at the mangled whoopie pie and blushed even deeper. For a brief moment, she felt his gaze trail down her body like a caress. Or did she?