Part Deux

Hello again, Ursula here! Aside from reading and writing, travel is another passion of mine. Ask anyone who knows me and they’ll tell you I have a passion for Paris and all things French. I’m not sure when it began, but I’m certain it will never end! And so, I find France appearing in many of my tales”¦A Day in April, 1944 and on a lighter note, in Second Chances, a mainstream romance published by Bookstrand.

What is it about Paris? Rather than say it again, my answer follows (from my blog):

There’s something about Paris that can have a magical effect upon a woman. One can become reborn in this city just as I did a few years back”¦From the first moment I spied the Eiffel Tower in the distance, I knew I would be a changed woman. I tingled with excitement and anticipation as the sights and sounds of Paris grew closer. Was it just the magnificent beauty of the City and admiration for the culture and people that had created it that caused this feeling? Or had it also something to do with the fact that the French had always valued femininity and the belief that a woman grew more interesting as she aged, that she had a story to tell that her younger counterparts perhaps did not?

Having come to the realization that I was a woman of “a certain age” in the States, I began to wonder exactly what that meant? All the emphasis in our society is on youth, looking younger than we are, acting younger (not necessarily a good thing); and yet women were chastised if they tried to look, act, or dress too young. Which one was it? I wasn’t exactly enamored of the clothing I was supposed to wear at “my age”-it felt too dowdy, I wasn’t ready to transition into the drab conventional garb designed for my age group. On the other hand, I didn’t want to don the dress of a girl. I wanted to be the woman I was, looking as good as I possibly could-for a woman of a certain age. I wasn’t ready to undergo plastic surgery to maintain a youthful appearance”¦I thought I was fine the way I was.  Read more

So, is it any wonder that Paris would pop up again in Second Chances? Second Chances is a mainstream, contemporary romance. I hope it will appeal to all age groups as there is something for everyone! Delia is a teen, Gwen is thirty-something, and Jeanne is””well, she’d probably prefer that I not reveal that information.

Here is the blurb for Second Chances:

Chance encounters bring together three women from very different walks of life and with little in common””except for the desire to obtain a second chance at life”¦and perhaps even love.

A mysterious birthday gift, a husband’s devastating deception, and a secret past during World War II send the women on an unforgettable journey to France that will change their lives forever. Will Delia, the young runaway, find the father she never knew, a father who knows nothing of her existence? Will one impulsive night change Gwen, a soon-to-be-divorcee’s, life forever? Can Jeanne, a French war bride, face her past and rekindle a romance with a lost love? When Delia disappears, the answers to these questions must wait.

And now an excerpt:

The merciless sun stalked Gwendolyn Adams from the moment she stepped from her Jaguar. The truck stop, mired in black tar that stuck to the bottom of her shoes, looked less than inviting. Approximately fifteen hours ago, she’d packed her bags and pulled from the driveway of her home in Chicago. She could still hear Jay screaming at the top of his lungs, “Wait, Gwendolyn, don’t be unreasonable.” Slinking into the convenience store attached to the stop, she’d decided that chocolate, some caffeinated beverages, and an assortment of junk food would be fuel enough to get her to her next destination, wherever that might be. She’d made no plans before she left, taken only some bare essentials, a make-up bag, a few fifty-dollar bills, and her credit cards. How she ended up in a little town called Carlton was anyone’s guess.

I’m preparing for the adventure of a lifetime, she thought. So what if her husband of ten years had left her for another woman? Nonexistent for the past five years, there wasn’t anything left of the marriage to salvage. The hurt remained, though. When one becomes comfortable with a man it’s difficult to imagine thrusting oneself into the single scene again. Not that this was her plan.

The plan? To begin life again, to heal, recover her sensibilities and rediscover who Gwendolyn Adams really was.

The only problem now? She’d never been good with directions””couldn’t read a map if her life depended on it. Merging onto four lane highways with semis whizzing by rattled her. Jay had always teased her about her lack of a sense of direction. How ironic that he was finally right about something.

She nervously scanned the aisles. The store overflowed with characters that made her uneasy, namely burly truckers and others looking for amorous interludes. She kept her head down hoping to evade their curious stares. Scantily clad women loitered in the parking lot looking to snare tired and hungry truckers.

She made her way to the coolers and grabbed a six-pack of Coke. She’d need something to help her stay awake until she could find a decent hotel to spend the night. It would be dark within the hour and driving unfamiliar roads was also a cause of anxiety. The thought of getting sandwiched between two semis traveling at seventy miles per hour made her heart beat faster.

The six-pack in hand, some hastily picked fruit””she’d changed her mind about the junk food””and a bag of chocolates should hold her over. At the counter, she asked for a road map.

What the heck, she thought, better to have a road map just in case she acquired some map reading skills. At least she’d know the general direction in which she headed.

The Gucci bag, neatly cropped hair and polished look drew unwanted attention in the shabby establishment. Regardless of the few pounds she’d gained these past few years, she’d been told she was still a strikingly attractive woman for thirty-nine, but lately she didn’t feel that way. The clerk, however, looked like she’d just gotten out of bed. The poor woman probably always looked that way. The look of derision on her face was a clear indication that perhaps it was time to leave and get back on the road. But the larger question still loomed””where to?

The gas station, truck stop, convenience mart, diner, whatever it was, pulled in quite a crowd. Just after seven and the place was packed. A sparkling giggle that sounded like wind chimes came from the counter at the snack bar and caused her to turn and look in that direction. A young girl of approximately sixteen looked into the eyes of an unsavory trucker who clearly had other things on his mind besides his road trip. The girl momentarily startled Gwendolyn.  She reminds me of myself at that age, she mused. The way she looked physically, not the way she acted.

The girl cooed suggestively at the trucker and periodically sipped a chocolate milkshake. Her platinum hair, bound tightly in a bun, complemented the proverbial little black dress she wore, and little it was. Her features were delicate with a small upturned nose and remarkable pale blue eyes that Gwendolyn noticed from this distance. The girl wore hose and a pair of black mud-stained pumps. A backpack sat on the floor beside her.

So young to be a hooker, thought Gwendolyn. She’s asking for trouble

with that one, though.

If you’re interested in Second Chances, it is available here:

Published by Bookstrand, also available at ARE, Omnilit, Amazon, Mobipocket .

(It will soon be available in paperback on Amazon and Barnes and Noble!)

What about you? Where is your favorite place? I’d love some suggestions on places for anything from a weekend getaway to a more exotic destination”¦See you after lunch