Thursday Tell All – Rayna Guilbeau of The Last Daughter

 

  1. What is your story?

I’ve known from the beginning that I didn’t belong in Louisiana, that my roots weren’t there, so I’ve always wanted to find my family. No one would tell me anything about them, or where I’m from. No one would explain why a heart was branded on my chest, or why my so-called Louisiana cousins didn’t like me. My story is that no one would tell me my story. Does that make sense?

 

  1. Who are you?

I’m a girl without a future. Until I can find out who I am, where I come from—who I come from–I have no future. I’m sure that sounds melodramatic to most of you but when you ask who I am—I have no answer for you. My name is Rayna Guilbeau. But is it really?

 

  1. Do you have a problem that wasn’t mentioned in the story?

No, I’m pretty open and transparent. Except … I have to admit I didn’t want to reveal too much to Trent Jones in the beginning. Why should I? No one has ever told me the truth so I didn’t think I could trust him either. Maybe in the beginning my problem was not trusting or maybe my problem was trusting too much. Read my story and decide for yourself.

 

  1. Do you embrace conflict?

Funny you should ask that question. I certainly embraced it in The Last Daughter, didn’t? I butted heads with conflict. In a way, I guess I created it.

 

  1. Do you run from conflict?

Isn’t there an old saying what doesn’t kill us makes us strong. When I think that Trent and I could have lost our lives because of the conflict I brought into our lives, my heart actually skips a beat or two. I realize we’re a lot stronger because we met conflict head on, and I learned a lot about Trent. I can depend on him. I don’t run from conflict, and neither does he.

 

  1. How do you see yourself?

Before my story was created, I actually saw myself as a nonentity: powerless, insignificant, non-existent. Now, after learning who I am, after meeting Trent Jones—after living through my story, I feel whole. Funny that meeting evil face to face, surviving evil, can infuse one with … well, life, I guess. New life.

 

  1. How do your friends see you?

I’ve never had friends. I went through school being the outcast because of the Louisiana ‘cousins’ I lived with. They blackballed me and I never understood why. Because I looked different? Because I acted strange? Because their parents told them my story? Who knows? Maybe that’s something I’ll tackle next. Wouldn’t that be interesting to confront my life and those family members in Louisiana now that I’ve embraced the horrors of my Oklahoma birth?

 

  1. How do your enemies see you?

I was compared to a stray cat. I was told he should have put me in a bag and tossed me in the river the way he did his sister’s kitten. How many daughters can say their father wished them dead?

 

  1. How does the author see you? 

The author of my story loved me from the beginning. She infused me with much of her own strength, but a lot of her own fear and insecurity went into me too. My author made me more beautiful than I felt. Believe me, I argued with her, but she insisted I looked exactly like a young Angie Harmon. I think that’s hilarious. Sometimes I stare into a mirror and try to see what she sees. I still don’t see it. When she knew I was going to confront my father, she put me in a lovely, feminine sundress—one that would show him exactly what he’d done to me. When I walked down those stairs and Trent sucked in his breath, I knew it was the right dress to wear. And when my father saw me for the first time, when I saw the surprise cross his face, his eyes widen … I felt like the winner. Sure, his hurtful words, his cruelty was like a knife jabbing my flesh over and over again, but with my author standing with me—and Trent—I knew I’d come out on top. I just wish I didn’t have to suffer such loss.

 

  1. What, if anything, haunts you?

I keep asking myself if I could have done things differently. I’d yearned for my mother and father for years. I’d prayed for a family that would love me. I believe in happily-ever-afters but I guess we can’t have it all, can we?

 

  1. Has anyone ever betrayed you?

My parents. My author’s husband always asks, “If a child can’t trust her parents, who can she trust?” Is the answer no one?

 

  1. Have you ever betrayed anyone?

No. I work at being fair and honest and loyal to everyone. Even those who betray me.

 

  1. What was your childhood like?

I was raised in a small bayou town in Louisiana. I was told the family that raised me were distant relatives but I’m not sure they actually were. They didn’t act as if I was blood kin—they didn’t want me. Needless to say, my childhood wasn’t happy. I had one friend in seventh and eighth grade but she moved away. I never had another one. I moved into high school and kept to myself during those four years. It was easier being alone than having to explain myself or answer questions. My answer takes me back to your question about embracing conflict. Maybe I really don’t. Maybe I run from it.

 

  1. What in your past would you like to forget?

Nothing. I want to remember it all. I don’t want to forget anything. I can’t. I’ll replay my life over and over again until it finally makes sense.

 

  1. What in your past would you like others to forget?

There are no “others” in my life.

 

 

  1. Who is your true love?

Trent Jones. He says he fell in love with me the moment he saw me snooping around his house at midnight. I don’t know if I believe him but I love hearing him say it.

 

  1. Was there ever a defining moment of your life?

When I saw Wounded Heart, the three story house in Oklahoma City, advertised in that Louisiana magazine, I knew I was connected to it. I knew it held the story of my life.  I should have known it was more than a coincidence, but I didn’t. I quit my job, packed up a few belongings and headed to Oklahoma City. I’d call that a defining moment because my life certainly did change.

 

  1. What is your most closely guarded secret?

I have no secrets any more.

 

  1. What is your most prized possession? Why?

My most prized possession—other than Trent Jones—is Tiva, my childhood doll. Some people think she’s cursed and she very well could be, because I feel safe with her. I guess that’s why she means so much to me; I like how I feel when I hold her. Safe and powerful.

 

  1. What one word best describes you?

Decisive.

 

  1. What is your first memory?

Looking into a pot of soup and watching a hand holding a spoon stir the liquid. I still don’t know who that hand belongs to; who was holding me?

 

  1. Any non-family member adults stick out in your mind? Who were they, and how did you know them? Why do they stick out? 

I don’t remember any non-family members. I remember someone giving me my doll Tiva. All I remember is an arm, a white sleeve, a hand holding Tiva toward me. I only had eyes for Tiva.

 

  1. Who was your best friend when you were growing up?

Lauria was my best friend in seventh and eighth grade. She moved away. I heard my cousins say she was taken away from her parents because they were abusive drunks but I don’t know if that’s true. I still think of her and wonder.

 

  1. What is your fondest, childhood memory?

I went to Mardi Gras once and caught a lot of beads and candy. It was fun watching the parade and decorated floats. There were beautiful people dressed in bright colors. Everyone acted happy.

 

  1. What don’t you like about yourself?

I don’t think there’s anything I don’t like about myself. My author gave me confidence and drive. I make up my mind to do something and I do it. I seldom second guess myself.

 

  1. Do you think redemption is possible? If so, can anyone be redeemed, or are there only certain circumstances that can be? If not, why do you think nothing can redeem itself?

     Of course, I think redemption is possible. Otherwise, how could I have faced my father?    

    Why would I have tried to have a relationship with him? How could I see him day   

     after day and listen to him berate me and call me names if I didn’t believe redemption is

     possible. Anyone can be redeemed if they want to be. All they have to do is ask

    forgiveness—pray—repent, accept love and forgiveness from God and the persons  

    they’ve harmed. Unfortunately, my father didn’t believe in redemption—or maybe he  

    just didn’t believe in me.

 

  1. Is it okay for you to cry? When was the last time you cried?

I cried every time I went to see my father. I’d cry each time I left him and walked back to the house. I could cry right now—thinking of him, remembering some of the horrible things he said to me.

 

  1. What is the thing that has frightened you most? Do you think there is anything out there that’s scarier than that? What do you think that would be

I suppose I was most frightened when I realized how much my father hated me. And why. I still don’t fully understand it, and I’m sad to say my mother doesn’t have answers that make sense. There’s nothing scarier than your parents turning on you. Nothing. Thank God for Trent.

 

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TheLastDaughter_w7831_750 | [amazon_link id=”B00ES5DVI6″ target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon [/amazon_link]|

Blurb:  

Given away as a child, Rayna Guilbeau grew up with questions–questions about her real family and questions about how she ended up in Louisiana with a disfiguring heart branded on her chest. When she sees a sale ad for a house in Oklahoma City called Wounded Heart, she feels an instant connection. Somehow, the house holds the key to her mysterious past.

Trent Jones, an easy-going picker who’s always looking to make a few bucks, is the new owner of Wounded Heart, a three-story house filled with antiques and mystery. When an intriguing young woman shows up on his property at midnight, claiming she was born there, he knows his life is about to change.

On an emotional journey into danger, Trent and Rayna seek answers. But can Rayna put the past behind her and accept Trent’s unwavering love?

Excerpt:

“Rayna, I need to talk with you. Rayna?”
Rayna entered from the living area just as Trey reached the bottom of the stairs. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
He rubbed his forehead. “I need to talk to you about that doll.”
Rayna glanced toward a chair where she’d propped her old toy. “What about her?”
He motioned. “I did some research. She’s pretty old. Actually, she’s probably quite valuable.”
“I’m not selling her if that’s what you’re getting at. Honestly, Trent.” She turned from him and entered the room where the doll sat.
“No, let me finish.” He followed. “From what I can tell she’s been sold numerous times, landed in and out of pawn shops and doll stores. There’s been some very questionable happenings surrounding her.”
“What do you mean? How do you know?”
“Things happen. According to several collectors on the Internet…it’s almost like she causes things to happen to people that don’t like her. Or maybe don’t like you–or whoever owns her at the time.”
“That’s absurd. She’s a doll.”
He rubbed his head again. “Maybe a cursed doll.”
“She’s not cursed. Nothing has ever happened to me.”
He dropped his eyes to her chest.
She clasped her hand across her blouse and stared at him. “She didn’t cause that. How could she?”
“How do you know she didn’t? You have no idea how it happened or why.”
“I just know,” she yelled. “She was–” She stopped and squinted at him. “Trent, Trent, what’s wrong?”

*~*~*

AUTHOR BIO:

Jessica Ferguson is the author of The Last Daughter, a romantic suspense published by The Wild Rose Press. Her short story, If You Believe is part of Kathi Macias’ Twelve Days of Christmas series. Jess is co-editor of Swamp Lily Review, A Journal of Louisiana Literature & Arts and a staff writer for Southern Writers Magazine. She is the author of one Silhouette Romance, The Groom Wore Blue Suede Shoes, writing as Jessica Travis. Jess worked as assistant editor/writer/photographer for The Times of Southwest Louisiana, and her work has appeared in magazines and newspapers in Louisiana and Texas.

Follower her blog at http://jessyferguson.blogspot.com

Twitter: @jessyferguson

Facebook: Jessica Ferguson and Jessica Roach Ferguson

Pinterest: Jessica Ferguson

Hump Day Hook 54 – Santa, Maybe

SantaMaybe_MEDBack to Hump Day Hook!

So very close to release (and a giveaway)!!  So, here’s some more of Santa, Maybe.

Ivy is having lunch with her friend Eve, still stewing over the accusation of her daughter Justina’s parentage.  Eve points out that Justina’s real father did look similar to Alan:

“Then you could call it an honest mistake.”

“An honest mistake which managed to accuse me of being a horrible bitch that would keep a child from Alan.” Ivy shoved her glass away and sank down in her chair. While Eve was one of the few people that knew, and believed, the whole story, she still didn’t know everything. “I made a choice, but if it had been his child I never would have kept it from him. Justina could have been his, I was so full of hormones, we are very lucky the condom was sound.”

Eve giggled when a few heads turned their way. “You said that a little loud.”

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Hump Day Hook asks authors to post one paragraph of one of their stories, whether a WIP, one contracted, or already published.  Please visit and comment on the participants – you might just stumble on the next great read for your library!  To see more participants, click on the HDH banner below:

 

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Don’t forget, even though I’m not hooking them any longer, my Dominion Falls Series is still happily out there. 🙂

Did you like this sample?  You can pick up the whole series now!!

Changing Tracks




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Derailed





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Dark Territory





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The Great Giveaway Experiment – That Went Bust

giveawayI have this awesome friend, maybe you know her?

Emily, aka Designhermomma

Back in early October she made

<—This tweet.

I was intrigued, and asked if she wanted another participant for control.  She said “Sure!” and off I went to the races.

Over the course of 3 days I entered 100 random giveaways using the #giveaway hashtag on twitter.

I was NOT picky. Not in the slightest.

I signed up for iPads, Kindles, ebooks, diapers (which, really, I don’t need), toys, power tools…pretty much everything under the sun including coupons.

I figured, hey…it’s just for fun.

I guessed I’d win 1…maybe 2 tops…since I don’t have stellar luck most times (Still in total shock I won a KitchenAid 6 years back).

To keep my mental status somewhat in check I kept records.

The websites URL, the end date, and the product.  I figured I’d win something I had NO use for and donate it to someone who did.

I kept track, and as the month, and most of the giveaways, drew to a close I realized I had won a grand total of…

ZERO.

None.

None?

I know my luck is bad, but that couldn’t be right. 100 giveaways and nothing?

I thought it was a fluke, so I tried again.  I took another weekend and randomly entered another 100 giveaways (plus a few I spotted I really wanted…grand total was probably around 125).

This time I was even more particular. I didn’t put extra entries in anything, I did the minimum required entry for everything and left it at that (no matter how bad I really wanted it). Figured maybe a level playing field would be better.

As November drew to a close and still no “Congratulations!!” emails came my way…

I mean really?

I’m not a greedy person, and I didn’t care one way or another.

But 200+ giveaways entered, and I won…NOTHING?

Talk about a bust!

So this was one social experiment that, for me, was a wash.

Emily?  Oh, she entered about 80 and won 4 little items.

Wonder if she’ll send me some of her luck?

Tuesday Tales – Wavy

portrait of the beautiful young blonde, isolatedWelcome back to Tuesday Tales!  This weeks prompt is Wavy.

In what little spare time I’ve had recently, I’ve been working on book 4 of my Dominion Falls series called Runaway Train. This one has a lot of big emotional upheavals in it, as opposed to an outright mystery…although the start of a mystery that concludes in book 5 Home Signal does start in here.

Anyway, Graham was once Cole’s best friend and his business partner. After being a bastard (again) for most of the book, Jane essentially gave him the one piece of news that softened his anger…and returned him to the guy that once saved her life.

Now she has even more news for him…and isn’t quite sure how he’ll take it. This is the lead-in to the big reveal:

“Gentlemen.” Jane kept her hands behind her back as she breached the threshold. “How could you let me sleep so long? You knew I had somewhere to be.”

“Sorry, Janey.” Cole beckoned her close. “Doc said you’d be tired. Figured I’d let you sleep now.”

“I don’t see why, it’s not like you can keep me up later.” She pushed her lower lip out into a pout. “For once in your life you’re following Daisy’s orders to behave.”

“I always follow orders when they’re for you. Can’t have ya getting hurt worse.” Cole winked and kissed her temple.

“He’s got a point. He still doesn’t listen to what anyone else tells him anyhow.” Tommy chuckled. “We’ve behaved like you told us. Didn’t step a foot near Graham’s place. You sure you’re the one to do this, Jane?”

“Yes. His behavior in the past few weeks has been much different. I think he’s remembered how to be human again. Has he talked to you at all, Tommy?” Jane tapped her fingers on the hidden cigars, turning her attention away from Cole’s handsome face to meet Tommy’s answer.

“Asked me if I knew a good lawyer, since he doesn’t have money to compete with Carrington. I told him I more than knew one, I was related to one.” Tommy grinned. “Nick’s poker face comes in real handy in a court of law. Yes, I already sent the telegram.”

“Good. A man getting a divorce is usually easy as a two bit whore, but if he’s going up against Brooks Carrington and his daughter, Graham needs the backup.” Jane smiled. “I’m glad he took that step, the rest is just details now. And telling him about Linh and the baby require a bit more finesse than you two galoots can handle.”

“Hey now. I got lots of finesse.” Cole tugged on his slightly frayed vest. “You say it all the time in bed.”

“That doesn’t count in this situation, you boor.” Jane laughed and pulled the cigars out from behind her back. “You two enjoy these. I’m going to go have a conversation with the undertaker.”

“Ooh, you brought out the good cigars. You really want us to stay away from this conversation.” Tommy snatched his cigar out of her fingers and grinned. “You do know how to ask nicely.”

Cole chuckled and pulled her close, withdrawing his own cigar a bit more slowly. “Go take care of business with the bastard. Just know I’ll be keeping an eye down the road.”

“I never doubted it.” She tilted her head back to receive his kiss and winked. “Good thing you’re so tall. The thoroughfare is busy today.”

“We might be heading to Cora’s for a bite,” Cole admitted.

“Ah. Well, don’t follow too close, you’ll just annoy me.” She laughed and stepped free of his embrace to head toward Graham’s. With a final wave over her shoulder, she slipped along the boardwalk.

Along the way she was stopped no less than three times for a quick chat with friendly neighbors. Each chat took long enough that it was almost a full half hour later when she finally made it to Graham’s door.

Nearly two years after her hanging and the idea of entering Graham’s undertaker office still gave her a chill. She pushed open the door and stepped inside where several sealed coffins waited for burial. After her hanging she’d been nailed into one and laid out in that very room, where Graham had found her pounding on the wood in the middle of the night.

She shuddered off the memory and headed toward the back room which had once been Graham’s living quarters. He’d since expanded the work space, but Cole claimed he still had a bed and living space back there. She wondered just how often he used it in his loveless marriage.

“Graham?” Jane knocked on the door and pushed it open. “Are you in here?”

“Right here, Janey.” Graham’s back was to the door and he worked on old Mr. Moore. An odd contraption she recognized as an embalmer from some articles she’d read to familiarize herself with the war was set up on the table. Graham’s arms and shoulders worked as he kept his back to her. “Need something?”

The smell of death hit her like a locomotive and her stomach churned. The room tilted on its axis, she gripped the wall to keep steady. Images and wavy lines of color swam across her vision when her knees crumpled.

“Janey.” Graham’s voice was muffled and distant, but his large hand felt solid enough on her back.

She didn’t know where the bucket came from, but she was grateful for it as she heaved into it. Any bit of relief from her nap flew away with each painful lurch of her stomach until she couldn’t heave any longer. Cold sweat broke out across her flesh, and she held onto the bucket as she tried to gain her bearings.

“You all right, there? Never seen you react like that in here before. You had to have come in here lots since your own death.” Graham dabbed at her forehead with a towel. “Should I get Daisy?”

“No.” She didn’t know how she’d found her voice, but she managed. “I guess I’m still out of sorts after my concussion.”

“Come on.” Graham hauled her to her feet and practically carried her to the back door. He yanked it open and set her down on a chair outside before he disappeared.

In the shade of the building a cool breeze helped dispel some of the heat from her bodies upheaval. When Graham appeared with a cold mug of water, she gratefully took it.

“Put some ginger in that. Should help your stomach.” Graham plopped down in the chair next to her. “Any better?”

“Yes. Sorry. You’re right, that isn’t how I usually react, although I still don’t like being in there. No offense.”

“Don’t know anyone that does.” He wiped at his bald head with his towel and sighed. “You don’t need to be apologizing to me, anyhow. I’ve never apologized to you.”

“Tommy tells me you’ve asked about a lawyer. Is that when you decided to start being nice to me again?”

He chuckled. “No. When you told me the Moon’s are in Laramie is what did it. When I heard where she was, something changed.”

“You do love her, don’t you?” Jane turned toward him. “Because if you don’t, you have to know you’re going to go through a lot of hell to once again end up unhappy.”

“Kept telling myself I don’t. No, that I shouldn’t. She isn’t the right kind of person, nobody would understand.”

“Like what Martha and Snowbird went through.”

“Yeah.”

“So you do love Linh.”

“I guess I do.”

*~*

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Sunday Snippets 13 – Changing Tracks


Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors!

ChangingTracks_MEDI’m still keeping you all intrigued with the beginning of the series [amazon_link id=”B00BEMN5SC” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Changing Tracks (The Dominion Falls Series book 1)[/amazon_link]. You know, my amnesiac with the eidetic memory, Jane Doe…and the brothel-owner, anti-hero…Cole Mitchell.

Since everyone enjoyed Cole’s POV last week, I decided to skip ahead a few paragraphs and keep his POV for this week and next.  There’s just been an “incident”…an Indian raid on the town, and Cole rushes off to find Jane…:

She stood tall, her arms crossed in front of her chest. The tremor in her hand when she swiped at her cheek was impossible to miss. Hammy’s arm circled her shoulders and she didn’t pull away from the comfort.

In a moment a smile slipped across those lips. Cole would have to give Hammy a few free beers for taking care of his woman so well.

His woman? Where had that come from?

He didn’t want to care, he excelled at not caring; but when he caught the glimmer of a fresh tear, concern poured out of him like beer from the tap.

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Did you like this sample, too?  You can pick up the whole series now!!





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