“Springtime brings new life to the land, and every autumn’s harvest brings new promise.”
With the holidays approaching it’s always a time of reflection for me. I think about family members who have passed and remember good times, silly times, rough times we shared. I become filled with wonder and hope for the future, praying it will be great for my family, friends, and the world. It’s not much different than when I sit down to start a new book. I draw on family, friends, and my own experiences, some good, some not so good. I love the romance genre because everyone can relate. We’ve all had crushes, relationships, some good, some bad, and we understand emotions during these periods in our lives. It’s a common thread we all share.
Looking back, I can pinpoint with exact precision the first time I told a story I’d created. It was a very hot summer day at a large family picnic at a cabin in the woods. The day was filled with fun, food, and eventually spooky stories. My cousin and I kept making up ghost stories trying to outdo the other. As we sat cross-legged on a bunk bed, trying to scare the living daylights out of each other, I remember the bubbles of excitement I felt watching the look of anticipation on her face, knowing I’d hooked her.
Of all the genres, I love writing fiction the most. It presents endless opportunities to evoke emotion in the reader, to touch a life. Whether it’s happiness, giggles, tears, or concern, it’s a great feeling knowing something I created entertained someone. Hopefully, it’s not only entertaining but also leaves a sweet memory. Isn’t that what reading is all about? Leaving your own life for a few minutes… to join the McDavitt’s in their world? I love the escape and still read many authors, mostly romance. I also read the occasional mystery (I still love a great ghost story). I’ve always been a ravenous reader and personally feel there is nothing better than sitting down in my recliner with my schnauzer, Gus, sleeping by my side and jumping into a different life, letting the author take me away.
When I’m creating a world for my “characters”, I find myself chuckling, full out laughing, even crying at times. These characters change somewhere along the way from being a simple character with qualities I’ve given them, to a friend. They become living, breathing people I care about. When their story ends, and I’ve gone through all kinds of ups and downs with these new friends, I find myself missing them, missing their lives. In fact, that’s one of the reasons the McDavitt Clan is a series. There are too many family members in the McDavitt family to simply write one book and walk away! They all have stories to be told… who am I to deny them? Afterall, they’re a great bunch of people and if they can bring happiness to your day then that’s exactly what I want to do! Hopefully you love them as much as I do. ~Amelia
The McDavitt Clan Book 1
Cassie O’Dell loves her job as a kindergarten teacher, but desperately wants a big family of her own. Her search for the perfect partner hits a complication when her new assignment as the substitute 4H teacher brings her to Will McDavitt’s farm. The big, broad farmer with the sexy Irish brogue gets her pulse racing, but does the widower and single father have enough room in his heavy heart for Cassie and her dream?
Between caring for his young son and struggling to hold onto the failing family farm, the sweet, gorgeous 4H teacher is the last thing Will McDavitt has time for, but a farm is no place for a city girl from Maine, especially a farm facing the threats of a powerful oil baron who will stop at nothing to acquire the family land. How can Will protect the teacher and his family when the more he loves the more he stands to lose?
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“I’m sorry you’ve had challenges, Mr. McDavitt.”
“Will,” he said. “Call me Will.”
“When I moved here from Maine, I remember one of the teacher’s quoting a poem. She said, ‘Springtime brings new life to the land, and every autumn’s harvest brings new promise.’ Something about bringing in the hay and grains and hunkering down together for winter. I can’t do it justice, but the sentiment is the same. I hope the promise of this autumn brings you everything you’ve ever wanted.”
What did he want with his autumn’s promise? Easy, his farm. He wanted to keep his farm. He wasn’t a betting man, and he rarely took chances, but he hoped with all his heart the woman walking next to him was right. He hoped there was such a thing as an autumn promise.
Will cleared his throat and nodded his appreciation.
She tossed her book into her red canvas tote and went to Will’s bedside. She gently rested her hand on his forehead, then his cheek. She bent to kiss him, hovered over his face, then nuzzled his ear. Thick black curls tickled her nose as she softly sang Irish lullabies to him, hoping, praying he could hear them. She would keep singing, too until the day he opened his eyes and told her to stop. There was some force pulling her heart closer and closer to this man. Cassie felt as if she’d known him years instead of months.
The longer she stayed with this family, the harder it was to remember her life before Will. Her life without Will. Inhaling a deep breath, she placed her hand over his chest. His heart. The one thing keeping him here with her drummed steadily beneath her palm soothing her frayed nerves. As long as his heart beats, he was still here. With her.