Tomorrow's Wish for Love

An auto accident destroyed Marion's lifelong dream. Now, John Dalton wants to change her neighborhood. Even though they're on opposing sides, the attraction is strong, and then she discovers the one thing he wants, she can never give him.

Wild Women Authors is chatting with Marion Winter, a local business woman who is also the female protagonist of Tomorrow’s Wish for Love.

Where are you from? A small community of Briar, Georgia, about 30 miles north of Tallahassee.

What did you think the first time you saw John Dalton? That he was good looking. And very fit.

What was your second thought? How could someone that good looking be so untidy with his living quarters.

Did you feel it was love at first sight? Not really. Though there was something about him that was attractive.

What do you like most about him? That he likes kids. That he enjoys working with them.

How would you describe him? Determined. Strong in his own sense of self.

How would he describe you? Probably stubborn. Because I'm fighting the location of his proposed baseball field for town's kids. I'm protecting my father whose house is next door.

What made you choose Maid Marion, a cleaning service, as a career? It wasn't that I chose it but rather it chose me. I couldn't go back to teaching because of the emotional pain after my accident. After moving back home, I needed something to do outside of the house. Something to earn an income. Cleaning houses doesn't require thinking. It's busy work and that's what I needed.

What is your biggest fear? That I'll never be loved for who I am, as I am because I'm damaged goods.

How do you relax? Honestly, I'm not sure I do. I'm always busy doing something.

Who is your favorite fictional character? Alice of Alice in Wonderland. With my accident, I feel like I went down a rabbit hole and that I'll never find my way out.

What is the best piece of advice you ever received? Keep your head down and keep walking. I always saw it as don't get bogged down with a problem. Move ahead, leave it behind, and change the scenery. That has me thinking... I've allowed myself to get bogged down with the baseball field problem. As a way to ignore or leave behind my other problem? The problem I don't really want to deal with? I changed the scenery but the problem came with me because the problem is me.

Now, a few questions for Author Diana Stout:

What movies or books have had an impact on your career as a writer? Growing up, I read a lot of book and then in tenth grade I started reading big books: Gone With the Wind, Hawaii, and Forever Amber are a few that I remember. I loved the descriptions of settings, feeling I was walking beside the characters. Then later, Kathleen Woodiwiss and Rosemary Rogers were the first big romance writers that had me reading everything they wrote. They wrote big books, too. I love learning about history and geography through their stories.

Tell us a bit about your publisher: how did you hear about them and what influenced your decision to submit to them? This book was first published by Avalon Books, a publisher a critique partner friend of mine was writing for. She encouraged me to submit. Today, I'm an indie publisher. Having the rights back, I changed the book's title and the cover, updated the story, corrected all the errors that the publisher had failed to do, and have republished it through my own company Sharpened Pencils Productions LLC.

What book[s] currently rest on your TBR pile? Because my pile is so large, here are just three of many romances I want to read: The Rogue by Katharine Ashe, The Secret Ingredient for a Happy Marriage by Shirley Jump, and the Brides on the Run series by Jami Albright.

Lastly, what's up next and when can we expect to see it on the shelves? Much hasn't changed since my last interview from April. I'm still working on the Laurel Ridge novella series of seven romance stories. After that project is finished, I'd like to continue work on a historical drama that's based on a true event from the mid-1800s. I did the research years ago where I gathered original census records, court records, transcripts, newspaper clippings, and more. Additionally, I'm working on a non-fiction reference book for writers.

FOLLOW DIANA AT:

Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/writerDianaStout

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ScreenWryter13

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/drdianastout

Goodreads: http://goodreads.com/user/show/43124185-diana-stout

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authordianastout/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/diana-stout

EXCERPT:

Surprised, Marion looked up. Shock ran through her, her skin turned cold with fear, and the air left her lungs. The wall she had run into was a man. About six-three to her five-six. A strand of dark hair lay curled on his forehead. Equally dark brows hooded eyes the color of milk chocolate, and his gaze bore into her. His impressive wide shoulders make the narrow three-foot wide hall even smaller.

"Who in blue blazes are you?" he asked. His voice rumbled loudly against the hall walls.

"Maid Marion," she said.

"Yeah, right. And I'm Robin Hood."

"No, really, I'm Maid Marion," she repeated. "Marion Winter actually." She saw nothing but puzzlement in his eyes. "Maid Marion is the name of my business. John Dalton?" He nodded. "You hired me to clean your house."

"I did no such thing. How did you get in here?"

"You left your keys with my father."

"I've never met your father."

"Yes, you did, Mr. Dalton. Two nights ago."

"And I'm telling you, I didn't."

Marion bit her lip. Nothing made sense. Remembering the contract, she moved forward, intending to go to the small table near the entrance, but he blocked her way.

"Where are you going?"

"To get the contract you signed."

For a long moment he studied her. Without a word, he turned sideways. Marion swung the basket in front of her in an attempt to bring the bulky item in line with her body and in the process, her knuckles rubbed against the front of his powder blue chambray shirt. She felt his stomach muscles contract and heard his short inhalation of air. Heat shot from her knuckles to her whole hand and up her arm.

She darted a quick look at him. He still stared at her, the furrow between his brows deeper than before. She pressed forward determined to get past him without further incident.

Reaching the small oak table near the door, she set the basket on the floor and reached for the canvas bag that acted as her traveling office wherever she went. In it, she carried the records of her clients and other pertinent information she needed from day-to-day. Quickly, she found what she was looking for and extracted two sheets of stapled paper.

She believed in brevity and organization, and her contracts reflected her philosophy. Turning, she found John standing behind her. She held out the papers and he took them.

She watched as he scanned through the material, turning to the second page. His gaze dropped to the bottom of the page to the signature line. His mouth a straight line, he glanced at her, then spun around.

In half a dozen steps, he was at the drafting table. She followed. He reached for a pen and scribbled something at the bottom of the page, dropped the pen, straightened, and turned back to her.

With the papers back in her possession she looked at what he had written. His name was scribbled, almost unreadable, below the first signature.

"They're not the same," she said.