That girl in English class, the one who started on her essay or reading assignment the day it was handed out? Yeah, that was me. A camera was never far from my fingertips either, and anyone walking the school halls was fair game to having their photo snapped for the yearbook. I had grand dreams of becoming a photojournalist. Then my parents moved a few days after my graduation, and at seventeen I was on my own and all dreams were put on hold. I bounced around from place to place for a couple of years, married young, had three beautiful boys. "Me" became replaced with "Mom". For twenty-some years, I immersed myself in raising my kids. Nothing was more important. I still took photos, I still read whenever I could steal a moment, but writing took such a backseat, it was more likely found huddled and neglected in the trunk.
As my boys got older and became involved in sports, I started submitting write-ups of their games to the local paper and they always got printed. That small success fueled the fire kept on slow simmer for too many years. On my fortieth birthday, I sat myself down, as people tend to do, and asked what did I still want to achieve for "me"? I wanted to write a book. So I did. And it was terribly bad. But the bug had bitten. I wrote another one, then another and another… I took classes, attended conferences, joined writing groups, and I began getting "good" rejection letters. (I know, right? Total oxymoron.)
About that time, my life shifted gears again. With my children at an age where they no longer needed constant attention, my hubby and I began to travel. I found an entire world out there to explore and photograph, and digital photography made it so easy and fun. I stopped writing halfway through a story, just completely stopped writing. But if you have a true passion for something, it can't be denied. It took a couple years, but I gradually found my way back to writing. I still haven't finished that abandoned story, but I will. Another of my stories called to me first, my favorite one. I edited it, brought it into the twenty-first century (my, how the world has changed in those few brief years), submitted it and yay – Show No Weakness has recently been published.
I confess to being partial to wounded heroes. I enjoy reading about them and most of my stories are about them, although sometimes I'll pick on the heroine. Two of my other favorite classes in school were Sociology and Psychology and I blame my fascination with the human psyche for this compulsion to torment my characters.
And poor Cole, the strong, tough-as-nails cop in Show No Weakness, is certainly tormented. He's hiding from a pain too terrible to face. Then he meets Joely, social worker and single mom to a teenage son, who's blatantly open about her emotions and her compulsion to help anyone in need. Cole is definitely in need. To learn more about Cole and Joely, please visit my website at http://www.JoyceHolmes.wordpress.com.
I've learned a few things along the path to this place I now find myself. I've learned life is about striking a balance. You don't necessarily have to give up one thing to enjoy another. And never give up on a dream, even if it has to ride in the trunk for a while first.
About the Author:
She’s a free-spirited social worker, looking for her Happy-Ever-After. He’s a distrustful RCMP Corporal who’s sworn off relationships. Their sexual attraction is so hot, it oughta be illegal. Factor in a surly teen heading for delinquency, and you have a case of passion and turmoil too explosive to handle.
As a defense mechanism to deal with his guilt and grief over his daughter's death, Cole Dennison has become an expert at compartmentalizing his feelings. He keeps his personal life private, while making it his mission at work to rescue children in peril.
Joely Sinclair is fiercely protective and openly compassionate. When she meets Cole Dennison, she falls hard. He's everything she admires in a man, and because she wears her heart on her sleeve, she can't understand how or why Cole keeps all his emotions to himself.
Does her love have the power to heal this wounded man?