My guest today is Christian fiction author, Cathy Bryant. Thank you Cathy, for being the first to respond to my BLU submission!
http://www.CatBryant.com or at http://www.WordVessel.blogspot.com.
My childhood as the oldest child of four in a rural Texas town is full of wonderful memories. But in retrospect, only a few loves seem to weave their way throughout my childhood like threads in a beautifully woven tapestry, and none so much as my love affair with books.
It started with my mother reading to me when I was too young to read for myself. I learned to read before I ever started school—probably because of repeated readings of well-worn Dr. Seuss books.
During the summers I often stayed with my grandparents.
One grandmother didn’t drive or have a television, so our time was spent outside in her lush garden, walking from one destination to another, and reading stories from the Bible. My other grandmother was an avid reader of Harlequin romances and never missed her soap opera, Days of our Lives (where, believe it or not, I learned loads about stories and hooks). I vividly remember my grandfather coming in from long hard days in the fields of their farm to the sensational aromas of my grandmother’s home-cooking. After supper he would retire to his bedroom where he launched into the western worlds of Zane Grey and Louis L’amour. This grandmother took me and my siblings to the public library on a weekly basis where I devoured book after book—Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Trixie Belden, and classics like Old Yeller, Little House on the Prairie, Black Beauty, Treasure Island, Robinson Crusoe and Little Women.
I don’t remember how old I was when I first read Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. But I do remember that I longed to be Jo March. I yearned to stay up late in flickering candlelight to pen stories in beautiful script. Then I read a biography on the life of Louisa May Alcott and learned she was Jo March in the flesh. What better life could there be?
Now those memories are far behind me, but still nothing captures my fancy better than a well-told story. And as a writer, I’ve learned that my childhood view of the writing life is not nearly as romantic as I once imagined, but still I press on. Who knows? Maybe one of the stories I write will one day capture the fancy and imagination of a young girl who dreams of being a writer.
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Buy it at Powells
About Texas Roads:
City gal Dani Davis just wants to find a place to call home. Miller’s Creek, Texas seems like the perfect place to start over, except for the cowboy-turned-mayor who gives her a ride into town.
When Dani secretly finances renovations to the downtown area of Miller’s Creek, malicious rumors force her to choose between keeping her involvement a secret and the home for which she’s always longed.
Mayor Steve Miller is determined to save his dying hometown. When vandalism jeopardizes the downtown restoration project, he can’t help but suspect Dani, whose strange behavior has become fodder for local gossips.
Will Steve and Dani be able to call a truce for a higher cause, and in the process help Dani realize the true meaning of home.