Author’s Blog ; http://deborahmelanie.blogspot.co.uk/
Author’s Facebook ; https://www.facebook.com/deborah.melanie
About the author; Deborah Melanie writes romantic stories, is the wife of a retired semi-professional footballer and lives in the historical town of Northampton.
Thursday, 21 November 2013
Welcome romance writer, Deborah Melanie….
Please welcome to my blog today, my online friend and romance writer, Deborah Melanie - Deborah's latest release is "Winter's Tale" and available to buy right now. Looking forward to reading your post, my lovely and wishing you great success with your ongoing tour! Over to you :)
The Skating Rink
Picture it; Victorian red velvet dresses swirling, fur muffs keeping hands warm, the scent of chestnuts warming in nearby braziers. There’s nothing better than imagining the typical Christmas card scene of a Victorian Christmas at the frozen lake. It’s romantic and nostalgic all at the same time. On our first visit to New York, my husband had great plans for us to visit the ice rink in Central Park. There’s something magical about frozen water and the winter time isn’t there? It conjures up all sorts of warm thoughts and pleasant feelings.
Sadly, this isn’t the case if you’re me. No matter how hard I like to think of myself as an international figure skater, what happens in my head, does not translate to my body. Balance is not my friend. We have an indoor ice rink near our home and believe me; it takes up a lot of courage on my part to get there. The fear of being out on the ice, with nothing to hold onto is such a nightmare. However, one year, I bit the bullet and gave it my all.
There I was, after an hour, floating around on my own. My husband stood proudly on the side-lines, admiring my almost ballerina-like grace. Ok, I am embellishing, but in my mind, I was doing great. After all, I had nearly completed a full circuit on my own. Then there it was, the shove in the back, the falling backwards, the head hitting the ice. The next thing I know, some stranger is asking me if I’m ok. I can’t see a thing. Everything is black and the lump on my head feels horrendous.
Eventually I made it back to the side and my family. Hubby hadn’t seen it happen. It had all been so quick. Well…there was blood, there were tears and eventually, there was a trip to the hospital and some of that glue they use to stick heads back together again. Talk about bad experience. Needless to say, that was my last ever visit to an ice rink.
So readers do share your own experiences of the ice. Good or bad?
Blurb:Winter McAndrew is on the brink of divorcing her philandering husband, Philip, when he dies in a car crash. One year later and with unfinished business; Philip is still earth bound and interfering in his wife’s love life. Trying to make amends isn't always easy when you're dead. Not only has Winter fallen for her old crush, Jack Tobin, but he also happens to be Philip’s cousin. With more complications than a woman needs at Christmas, Winter tries to find peace at her holiday home in The Lake District. However, when she finds herself snowed in with Jack; ghosts, old and new cause quite a stir. Will Winter get her man, or will ghostly Philip put an end to all her festive fantasies?
Did she hear them correctly? Did they really say…dead? Dead, as in door nail? Dead, as in never coming back?
Turning her eyes away from the thick gold band on her wedding finger, Winter looked around the sterile white corridor; old magazines littered a nearby coffee table, a late night cleaner erratically distributed disinfectant onto the tiled floor with a well-worn mop; the stench felt overwhelming. Hushed voices spoke in the reception area, adding a stark contrast to the wailing of a distant siren. Despite the time, she felt surprised to see the hospital in such a hive of activity.
The phone had woken her just after three; the journey to her destination taking well over an hour. Thick, falling, snow hampered each mile, drawing out her distress and sense of fear. A lack of information and worry about the unknown added to the already crushing sense of fear. After drinking two cups of weak coffee, she watched the morning sunrise through a nearby window, feeling the apprehension dawn upon a new chapter of her life.
Posted by Rachel Brimble at 01:19