The first thing I saw, coffee cup in hand, logged in, mail checked, weather confirmed (I look out the window, saves time), birds fed inside and out (parakeets in, feeders on deck), Herself with food/water/belly rub, buh-bye to Firstborn have a nice—she grimaces—day…
Okay, okay, it wasn’t the first thing.
But it was the one thing that stopped me in my tracks because the second thing I had planned on doing yesterday was closing folders on a half dozen WiPs (works in progress) and applying for a greeter position at Walmart.
Because this…
and this…
but then there was this…
because of this…
One review not only made my day, it probably made my year, not because the reviewer enjoyed the work but because he got it—the subtext, the authenticity of characters who discover intimacy and meaning in an unforgiving wilderness—creating a loving tribute to a story that touched him deeply, Timber Lake.
An author lives for those moments. They come so seldom, you are tempted to enshrine them, bronze them so you will have that memory to carry you forward when darkness intrudes and you feel unworthy to continue.
Alan of Sinfully Addicted to All Male Romance honored me and I am humbled and grateful for his regard.
