Have Cave, Will Read with Guest Blogger: Rebecca Heflin

Chat with Featured Author Rebecca Heflin 

today at the Book Boost! 

Home Sweet Cave

We all hear talk of man caves and mom caves, woman caves and girl caves. Writer, Paige Cuccaro, even posts pictures of writer’s caves on her website. But what about reader caves?

A reader cave is that special spot where you like to curl up with a glass of wine or a cup of tea, and a good book, and woe unto anyone who disturbs you.

I have several reader caves around my house, lots of comfy spots to burrow in and read a juicy romance novel. These spots also serve as alternative writing caves when I need a change of scenery.

The Sunroom. Undoubtedly my favorite room in the house. Just off the master suite, surrounded on three sides by windows that look out over my backyard and gardens, it’s a perfect spot for some quite time. In the winter, the sun streams through the windows, warming the room, and providing a sunny spot. My husband swears I was a cat in my previous life, and just like a cat I follow the sunbeams around my house.

The Back Porch. When the weather’s balmy and the only place I want to be is outdoors, my screened back porch beckons. It, too, overlooks the backyard and the gardens. Here, the sound of songbirds provides a lovely soundtrack to whatever I’m reading. And occasionally, a brightly-colored Cardinal or a Ruby-Throated Hummingbird will catch my eye and urge me to pause in my reading and just appreciate their beauty.

The Window Seat. In our upstairs bedrooms are dormer windows with built in window seats that lure me in, especially on a rainy or stormy day. I feel cozy and safe with rain falling outside, the occasional lightning and thunder. The east-facing window seats are also not a bad place to be on sunny Sunday morning.

In Front of the Fire. Cushy chair and ottoman, warm throw, and a fire. Who could ask for more on a chilly winter day?

Do you have a reader cave (or two or three) in your house? I’d love to hear about them. Also, if you email a photo of your reader cave to me here, I’ll post it to my Reader Cave Album, and you’ll be entered in a drawing for a free copy of Rescuing Lacey. I won’t add your name to my subscriber list unless you ask me to.


A Note from the Book Boost:  My house has no hiding places--unfortunately.  I must get in reading where ever and whenever I can sneak a moment with my kids in tow.  Love the post and please tell us more about your book!


Excerpt:

Ready to do battle, Lacey sat up swinging.

“Jesus!” Luke grunted as one of her fists found his rib cage. He grabbed her other wrist before she could take another swing. “Sommers! It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you,” he said, kneeling over her as he pushed her shoulders back down to her sleeping bag. Despite the darkness, he could see the terror in her eyes, her mind far beyond the cargo area of the small plane.

“Sommers.” He reached up to brush the damp hair from her sweat-drenched forehead. Her chest heaved as she struggled to pull in a breath. “Calm down. You’re okay.” Her eyes focused on his face, and he knew she was finally alert and oriented.

“Get off me.” She pushed at his chest as she tried to sit up again. “Christ, it’s like an oven in this plane.” She shoved her hair back.

Luke sat back onto his heels and handed her a bottle of water. “The rain’s stopped. I could put a tarp down on the ground and we could sleep outside, although it’ll be dawn soon ...”

“No. Maybe if I could just step out and get some air.” She was too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

He’d witnessed her nightmare a second time.

He opened the airplane door, climbing out first, before turning to help Lacey down. She must be feeling vulnerable, he thought, if she let me help her down. He sat in the doorway and watched her pace, her arms outstretched to capture even the smallest breeze off the now-calm gulf.

Lacey inhaled the fresh salty air and tried to put the nightmare out of her head, as if it were possible. Darfur. Would she spend the rest of her life reliving that night in her dreams? The smell of death, the sound of sheer terror, the personification of evil, and the cut of the blade?

She’d lost her objectivity that night. And she’d almost lost her life.

The violence in Darfur had been at its height. The Janjaweed militia burned yet another village inhabited by non-Muslim black Africans. Women and children were fleeing the utter brutality. Covering two wars had done nothing to prepare her for the merciless massacre of an entire population.

She reached up to brush her fingers across the scar that would always remind her how short life could be.

Watching as she stroked the scar, the significance of the action was not lost on Luke, further confirming in his mind the link between the nightmares and the scar.

He came up behind her, placing his hand tenderly on her shoulder. She flinched at his touch. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She straightened her shoulders and turned to face him. The look of tenderness on his face almost unraveled her. She suppressed the overwhelming desire to melt into his arms and weep like a child.

His eyes softened. “Come on. Let’s get out of here,” he said, as he walked back to the plane.
Humiliation averted. So why the disappointment?

Want More Rebecca?

Visit her on the web here: www.rebeccaheflin.com

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