Simple Blessings

By Emlyn Victor

Charlene Cammon is an inspirational romance author who has lost her muse. In fact, following the failure of her own real-life romance, her muse is not just missingit's on life-support. Fearing she'll never complete another book, Charlene heeds the advice of her best friend, Brynn. She leaves the city for a summer sabbatical to a remote cabin in Crestview. There, she'll be removed from civilization and meet the book's deadlineor so she thinks.

Gage Kenner's life as an air-ambulance pilot is put on hold following the death of his brother. Raising his eight-year-old niece, Jenna, is more than Gage bargained for. A summer break at his cabin in Crestview might be just the ticket Gage needs to forge a bond with heartbroken Jenna. What Gage doesn't bargain for is impetuous Charlene, who has taken up residence just over the knoll.

Jenna's needs bring Gage and Charlie together, and Charlie learns that sometimes, it's as fun to write a real-life romance as it is to pen one for the pages.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pure Amore
• Release date: Jun 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781611164947

Book preview

Offer

Simple Blessings

Emlyn Victor

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Simple Blessings

COPYRIGHT 2015; 2020 Pelican Ventures, LLC

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given to other people. Contact Information: [e-mail]

All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version(R), NIV(R), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

Scripture texts marked NAB are taken from the New American Bible, revised edition Copyright 2010, 1991, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Washington, D.C. and are used by permission of the copyright owner. All Rights Reserved. No part of the New American Bible may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Cover Art by Nicola Martinez

Pure Amore, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC

PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410

Publishing History

First Pure Amore Edition, 2015, Mary Manners

Updated with companion devotional 2020, Emlyn Victor

Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-61116-494-7

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To our gracious Lord Who holds all things in His hands and prospers us according to His will and our faithfulness.

I know the plans I have for you…plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

~Jeremiah 29:11~

1

Charlene Cammon gazed through the cabin’s wall of palladium windows to an expanse of dew-kissed Smoky Mountains beyond. Lush evergreens danced in a perfectly synchronized ballet as a summer breeze sang through arms outstretched to the cerulean sky. After days of rain, not a single cloud hinted. Through the window, the scent of pine swirled to nibble her nose. Beyond the pasture, which rolled open like a fragrant green carpet, the gentle serenade of a lazy river soothed as rivulets turned to diamonds beneath fingers of light.

If Charlene trained her vision hard enough through a small grove of trees flanked by a splash of wildflowers and then on down along the river’s edge for a quarter mile or so, she could barely glimpse the outline of another cabin. But that was the extent of the population around here—well, that, the squirrels, and an occasional possum playing hide-and-seek at the roadside that she’d noticed on her drive in late last night. No traffic, no crowds, and no Internet, except for what she was able to access on her iPhone. And, thankfully, finding a signal this far from town proved to be iffy, at best. She might possibly get lucky if she stood on the front porch with her arm stretched toward the sky, facing slightly east, and the air was clear…

Anyway, there was nobody bombarding her day and night for interviews, book-signings, or battles over edits. Just coffee and the plethora of thoughts scrambled in her brain like a jigsaw puzzle missing a few key pieces.

The setting here in the Smokies of East Tennessee proved to be beautiful, pristine…all but perfect. So, why did she suffer from an oddly uncomfortable churning in her belly that nipped at her like a school of piranhas? Whatever the problem, it seemed to follow her wherever she went lately.

Charlene tore her gaze from a flock of birds that swooped in on a cacophonous symphony of chatter to alight in the grove of trees. She turned back to the laptop she’d opened on the desk in front of her. The screen stared back at her, filled with a single page as empty and white as a Siberian crevasse. Things were not exactly going as planned. She’d expected to awaken this morning to a plethora of ideas somehow infused into her brain while she’d dreamed. She’d write the next great American novel—or at least the inspirational romance she’d been contracted to crank out—in record time and then head back to the city. The book would prove to be another bestseller, right?

Wrong. Forget the bestseller status. As things now stood, the dream failed to be even a glimmer on the radar. Instead, Charlene struggled to type a single word. This morning she woke to realize there was no magic—nothing of the sort—waiting for her to discover. She failed to find so much as a shard of coal in the proverbial stocking.

Absolutely, positively nothing had come to mind as she slept—nor did it now, three long and painful hours later. Not a single creative thought—not one fleeting idea. The story Charlene had so painstakingly mentally plotted and planned months ago when she’d pitched the anemic synopsis to her editor was now dead before it even hit the hard drive. The intention to finish (actually, to get started) was there, but the words Charlene was looking for…well, they just refused to cooperate.

Charlene figured it was sort of like craving the most scrumptious chocolate layer cake complete with indulgent fudge filling, a light buttercream frosting adorned with slivers of chocolate, and perhaps a handful of ripened cherries nestled on top. With an award-winning recipe located and the go-ahead given, production soon commenced. But, upon further inspection of the necessary supplies, no vanilla extract could be found in the pantry, no cocoa powder and only one egg instead of three. And the chocolate shavings...well, they would be AWOL, as well. Forget the cherries.

And, to top things off, in this baking scenario all the stores would be suddenly and inexplicably closed—no, gone out of business—so there’d be no blue-ribbon chocolate layer cake unless things got very creative in the kitchen.

Creative…was not happening in this proverbial kitchen and not in this office—well, technically not an office, but actually a loft because of the sofa-sleeper tucked into one corner. Not here and not today.

So, instead of the plot waiting to be unfolded, Charlene’s thoughts drifted back to the city—and to Tom. What a heel he’d turned out to be. With thoughts of the man she’d dated for nearly a year, came a sharp jab of pain. She knew now what it felt like to be dumped. For nearly half-a-decade she’d sprinkled the heart-tugging heroine-gets-jilted storyline into her romances, but she’d never experienced such a heartbreaking debacle firsthand.

Until Tom.

The clipped, stabbing words he’d so carelessly slung at Charlene crashed through her mind…

You’re busy all the time now, Charlene. Your nose is always buried in a notebook, and even when it’s not, that faraway look…well, I can practically hear the story wheels spinning. Your deadlines have trumped our relationship and you have, in effect, sliced me right out of the picture. And now you have a string of book-signings coming up. He’d shaken his head at her, his gaze cold and condescending. It’s just not working for me anymore, Charlene. You’ve changed…

He didn’t want her to do the book-signings? Charlene had been blindsided by the realization. In the beginning, at the onset of their relationship, Tom had been loving and supportive. But slowly he had begun to resent her writing and all that it brought.

It had been a lot of work to get where she now stood—to climb the mountain, so to speak. Had the success changed her?

Since the night Tom walked out on her six months ago, Charlene’s muse had gone dry as the Sahara Desert, which proved problematic, to say the least. Writing was her lifeblood, her career for goodness sake. She’d taken a leap of faith and quit her day job as kindergarten teacher to make it happen. She had no intention of returning to the classroom, yet a lack of muse equaled no new novels on the bookstore shelves and thus, anemic income to attend to an ever-mounting pile of bills.

Hello runny noses and untied shoelaces. Bring on kindergarten story time, scissors and glue.

No, though Charlene had treasured the time she’d spent in the classroom, and there were days she missed sharing stories and instilling a love of learning in the children who crossed the threshold into her room, she couldn’t go back. Because even more meaningful than the income, writing unlocked a part of her heart that made her feel alive. Why couldn’t Tom understand that—any of that? Why hadn’t he tried just a little bit harder to figure her out?

Because he didn’t fully love her. At least that was her best friend Brynn’s take on things when Charlene stumbled onto the doorstep of the apartment they shared downtown, sobbing in her feeble attempt to pour out the story of her and Tom’s break-up. As the shock cleared, Charlene realized Brynn was right and Tom’s jilting didn’t really come as a surprise at all. The signs had been revealing his lack of commitment for weeks, maybe even months. Charlene had just been avoiding the obvious. Now she saw through new eyes, and she was thankful to have learned the lesson earlier rather than later.

Once her tears had dried, a thin veil of anger set in. As the CEO of an investment company, Tom hadn’t had any trouble leaving Charlene behind for days at a time throughout the course of their relationships as he jetted to the corners of the country on monthly business trips. Yet Charlene always managed to welcome him back with open arms and a hot, home-cooked meal. She’d supported him at every turn, looking toward what she hoped would be a bright future together. She had offered him her heart and her love but, in the end, he had failed to reciprocate.

No point in mulling it over now. The relationship had fizzled and died…end of story. Not exactly the happy ending she had expected.

Yes, the implosion of her and Tom’s dating life would make a neat little twist to the plot of any novel. But in this case the twists and turns made up Charlene’s real-life story—not the one waiting to be written.

An impending deadline loomed, and Charlene needed to hustle. At the rate she was going, she’d never finish another book—ever again.

The thought sent chills through her, and she reached for her coffee mug. More java…she needed more. The jolt of caffeine would surely ignite the creative juices. Perhaps another cup of coffee and a brisk walk along the river might do the trick. The mountains…the river seemed to call to her in a soothing voice. Why not take a break and clear her head? Sitting here in the cabin loft was doing no good at all.

She closed the laptop and pushed back from the desk, stretching kinks from her back and neck as she rose. Both maladies came with the writing territory and usually she didn’t mind suffering through them because a sore neck equated to a higher word count. But today there was nothing to show for the stiffness along her spine—or the ache in her backside—so she merely grimaced and sighed.

As she turned from the window, a flash of red caught her eye through the glass. Near a grove of trees along the river’s edge she saw something skitter across an outcropping of rocks. She watched, holding her breath. Was it a bear? Brynn had cautioned black bears made their home here, and deer as well, but Charlene had yet to see so much as a peep of either.

Of course, she’d arrived merely a dozen hours ago following her final book signing of the most recent tour, and had pulled into the winding drive in the dark of night.

She expelled her breath, laughing out loud. Of course whatever she’d caught a glimpse of—if indeed her eyes weren’t playing tricks with her—wasn’t a bear. After all, bears