I guess very few posts topics in here came out more appropriate and personal than this one. Read on to see why. Alana Lorens is here with me to explain.
Alana has been a published writer for more than forty years. Currently a resident of Asheville, North Carolina, she loves her time in the smoky Blue Ridge mountains. One of her novellas, THAT GIRL’S THE ONE I LOVE, is set in the city of Asheville during the old Bele Chere festival. She lives with her daughter, who is the youngest of her seven children, two crotchety old cats, and five kittens of various ages.
So. April 1. Sounds fairly harmless, just like that, right? Just the first day of a spring month, the sun shining, the birds tweeting, and so on.
But no. Some idiot decided years ago that this should be a day for pulling pranks and practical jokes on other people.
And then my mother apparently decided that April 1 would be a great day to make me born. And thus it happened that April Fool’s Day and I became partnered for life.
When I was young, it wasn’t that big a deal. My family isn’t particularly prank-oriented, for which I’m grateful. But then there was high school. Particularly my senior year, when my locker at Euclid Senior High School was right outside my AP English teacher’s classroom. Mrs. Norma Cowan: a force to be reckoned with. My dear friends thought it would be a fab idea to fill said locker with balloons and ping pong balls, so that when I opened it in a rush for class, they would spill all over the floor and trip people. Norma was standing in her doorway, and she was NOT amused. Oy.
Other small things happened over the years—joke gifts, empty cards, packages boobytrapped with glitter, etc., and then there was the year my sister made me the most beautiful cake for a party at her house.
It was gorgeous, homemade, hand decorated, a yellow cake, not chocolate, but that was okay. She cut the cake and made sure as the birthday girl, I had the first tasty piece. I took a big bite and discovered that it was not yellow cake at all. It was cornbread decorated with frosting.
She got a huge kick out of it and has never failed to remind me since.
I almost had a great present the year daughter #2 was born. I was convinced she wouldn’t come until my birthday—but sure enough, she showed up the morning of March 31 instead. Joke was on me. (The funny thing is that her birthday is March 31, her husband’s is April 1 like mine, and their daughter’s is April 2—super packed birthday weekend!)
So April 1 is decidedly an exciting day in my household—here’s hoping you survived with minor injuries!
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Weekly at Vivi’s with Alana Lorens #April Fool’s #Memories #pranks #Family #RomanceBooks #books #booklover #bookworm #bookclub #bookaddict #BookTalk #RomanceReaders #MFRAauthor #MFRAtogetherTweet
You can keep in touch with Alana here:
Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Alana-Lorens/e/B005GE0WBC/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1
Alana brought with her one of her books.
Conviction of The Heart by Alana Lorens released a few years back in the romantic suspense genre.
Family law attorney Suzanne Taylor understands her clients’ problems–her own husband left her with two babies to raise alone. Now that they’re teenagers, her life is full. The last thing she wants is the romantic attentions of a police lieutenant, no matter how good-looking.
Lt. Nick Sansone is juggling the demands of a new promotion and doesn’t need complications either. But when he sends a councilman’s battered wife to Suzanne for help, he realizes he wants to connect with the lovely, prickly lawyer on more than a professional level.
They are soon confronted with a different battle when the abused woman’s husband threatens retribution. The powerful, well-connected councilman can damage both their careers–not to mention hurt those they love. Can they bend enough to admit they need each other in a time of crisis? Or will a husband’s revenge take them down before they ever get a chance?
Buy now at www.Malaprops.com, in Asheville, or order from your local indie bookstore!
Or on Barnes and Noble
“Hey, woman! Where do you get off stealing people’s kids from them? Huh?”
The shout came from behind her. There.Wachowski, the father who’d lost his case, lurking
behind one of the pillars at the top of the stairs. His graying hair was rumpled, and his pale blue eyes held a wild and unpredictable look.
“Mr. Wachowski, I really shouldn’t speak to you while you’re represented by counsel.” While ethically true, it was actually a maneuver to buy time.
“Don’t need a mouthpiece to deal with you.” He put his right hand in the front pocket of his suit
In a move born more of instinct than intent, Suzanne raised her solid-sided black briefcase so it
blocked her torso. If he was going to take a shot—
Running up the steps from the sidewalk, almost as though he were riding a white steed, was Nick
Sansone. He ascended to the step where she stood, then one higher, so he was directly between them. His trained eyes flickered from her to the man above her, and back. “Everything all right here?” he asked.
Wachowski’s eyes never released her gaze, but she saw doubt once Nick appeared. What was in Wachowski’s pocket? It could be a gun, or a wallet full of family photos. She cleared a throat that had tightened beyond speech and took a deep breath. “I think everything’s fine. I believe Mr. Wachowski was just leaving.”
Wachowski twitched, jaw working, hand still in his pocket. Nick wasn’t in uniform, but something about him conveyed an air of authority. Even Suzanne could feel it.
What was he doing here—just when she needed him?