I am over the moon excited to share my upcoming release with you. This baby has been in the works for nearly 3 years! To celebrate, I have a pre-order discount and a special look at the novel for you today.
She moved on when the love of her life died in the war, but what will happen when she finds out he’s alive?
Olivia Jernigan never thought she’d get over Grady. But three years after his death, she’s on the verge of marrying Kenneth Wade when she receives a new painting by her deceased fiance. Olivia flees home to learn what really happened to the man she thought died in the Korean War. The man she thought loved her enough to come home for her.
Grady Barnes woke up three years ago in a hospital room with no knowledge of his identity. The only memory to resurface is the image of a woman he can’t stop painting. When she suddenly shows up at his painting class, she may help him discover where he really belongs or she may disrupt the life he was building for himself.
Olivia and Grady have a history. But now, they wonder if they still have a future … or perhaps, their love is just a painted memory.
If you’re familiar with my little writing sister, Amanda Tero, then you’d know that she’s unapologetically unromantic. So to hear such high praise from her on a gushingly romantic novel . . . well, that’s saying something.
But she’s not the only one praising it early. Here are some of the messages from my line editors:
Kimberly Bowie says, “I have held my breath more times than I can count, and that started on page 2!!!”
Kim Hampton says, “OK, I had to let you know that I’m only two chapters into Painted Memories and I already love it!!! I knew I was going to, but I didn’t expect to be on the edge of my seat quite this fast!”
I’m tickled pink that my most suspenseful novel to date is a love triangle. Who needs stalkers and ax murderers, when you can have impossible-to-decide romantic conflict?
Sneak Peek at the Novel:
Momma pushed off with her foot and set the porch swing into motion, her knitting needles clicking in their subtle rhythm.
From a bench on the other side of the porch, I leaned my head against Kenneth’s shoulder and gazed out into the yard.
Daddy sat on a chair, softly strumming a tune, while Charlene laid sprawled out over the mouth of the stairs, lazily tapping her foot against the railing.
When Daddy’s tune took on a recognizable form, Kenneth dug out his harmonica, adding the whistling tune into the song of the night.
And there we sat like we had sat so many times before. Like we would sit so many times again … and yet we were on the verge of something so big, so life-altering and none of us had a clue. In the same way Pearl Harbor had shocked everyone to their very core, the discovery awaiting me upstairs that very hour would do the same thing.