Suffering from years of hopeless romantic notions and sexy, sassy heroines and bad-ass heroes taking up residence in her mind, Rhonda decided to write and bring the stories to life. With baby on hip and laptop on the other--and two years later--Rhonda has published five eBooks with a handful of spicy love stories waiting for the final touches.
When Rhonda isn’t crafting edge-of-your-seat, sizzling-ink novels, you will find her with her children, watching soccer, watching a breathtaking movie, doing (or trying) yoga, and finding new ways to keep her smile bright.
Rhonda thrives on making her readers happy. She believes everyone deserves romance--one page at a time…
This is a conversation I had with an acquaintance a few days ago.
Him: Are you a published writer?
Him: Do you sell? I mean, are you successful?
Me: I’m not Stephen King or Nora Roberts successful, but I feel successful in my own way.
Him: I’ve never heard of your books. How do you measure success? Is it just the number of books you sell or the amount of money you make?
I found myself feeling angry with this person. I rudely said goodbye. That should have been the end of it. But it wasn’t. I found myself mulling his words around in my head the rest of the day. Maybe that’s a good question, “How do we measure success?”
Success can be measured in many ways. How much money you have in the bank. How many books you have sold. Do people recognize your name? I guess everyone has their own measuring tool.
I am successful, but maybe not in the way most people view achievement. What means the most to me in life is those who I love and care about. Love is a form of success. It means more than the bank account or the number of sells I’ve made for the month. The more people we love, the more successful. We can never have too much, or never have too many people we care for. Love never runs out. It grows and expands. It is forever giving.
Now, if this acquaintance and I would have this conversation again I would tell him, “I am successful in many ways in life. But if you ask me what I’ve accomplished, I can tell you. I am a writer. I have written books that are published. A writer doesn’t sit down and with each word typed he/she ching-chings a dollar amount. In fact, I’d say that for most writers money isn’t even the object or purpose. It’s a feeling of doing what we love. Creating literary art. It’s a talent of mythical pleasure. Just like the surgeon who operates, the teacher who teaches, the construction worker who builds a bridge, a store manager who manages, a trucker who trucks food to the stores, a cab driver who drives…not everyone gets a pat on the back for their hard work or talent. Not everyone’s name is in neon lights. It doesn’t have to be. Our reward is doing what we love to do. And that is how I measure success.”
SAVE: 30% OFF
Author: Rhonda Lee Carver
Digital ISBN: 9781616502836
Digital Publication Date: June 20, 2011
Cover art by Valerie Tibbs
Formats: .epub, .lit, .pdf, .prc (Kindle and Mobi)
Dee didn’t look at him. He couldn’t look at her, either. He’d lived with the weight of shame, embarrassment and pain for years. He’d done a good job molding those emotions into something more useful, more productive: anger. The latter was far better than sorrow. Abe had convinced himself of her faults long ago. He wouldn’t allow her to unravel him again.
“You’re not welcome here, Dee.”
She set her bottle on the floor. It fell onto its side. Beer spilled out in a foamy puddle; both ignored it.
Tension enveloped him. What would she say?
“Let’s get past that, Abe. The reality is, Jacob wanted me here. I don’t know why he did, but I trusted him.”
He smirked. “You don’t belong here. Did you change your clothes to prove a point to yourself, or just to impress me?”
One thin brow curved in challenge. “It’d make you happy to think I was trying to impress you.”
“No.” He wrinkled his nose. “No, it wouldn’t.” He dropped his feet to the floor with a thud.
“Oh, forgive me.” Her tone teetered on mockery. “You’re into engaged women, right? I’m only a single girl now.”
Her bitter words hit home, striking as hard as a blow to the gut. He rose so quickly she stumbled back. He stalked toward her. Agitated, the horses kicked at the doors of their stalls as if they shared his tension.
Her lips trembled. “Did I touch a sensitive chord?”
Chord? Hell, she’d unleashed a flood. He caught her wrist in a solid grip. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he dragged her close and bent low to her ear. “You wanna stay?” His voice was dangerously low. “Stay. But don’t cross my path, or I’ll throw your ass off my farm quicker than you can throw Jacob’s name in my face again. Ownership rights or no ownership rights, that’s my word. Got it?”
She tilted her head back and looked up at him. Her face was devoid of emotion, but the damp mist in her eyes made her a liar. “Got it,” she whispered.
He dropped her wrist and pivoted on his heel, heading for the exit.
Her shaky voice stopped him. “I know you, Abe, probably better than Jacob did. If I didn’t already realize you’re a kind man, I’d run as far away from you as I could. You’re angry and you’re feeling guilty. I know, because I feel the same. I’ve dealt with those same emotions since Jacob died. You may hate me and I don’t know if I still...if I like you much either, but we share one thing. We both lost someone we loved.”
He kept his back to her, but as the last word left her lips he nearly fled outside. Sucking in fresh air, he shoved his hands into his pockets. Damn it. Damn her.
Other books by Rhonda Lee Carver:
A tumble down the stairs lands Carly back in the arms of her ex-husband.After the loss of a child tears her marriage apart, Carly vows she’ll never speak to her soon-to-be ex-husband Chance again. On the eve of their divorce, however, Carly takes a stroll down memory lane and calls Chance. A passionate one night stand between the two is shattered by cruel light of morning. With reality having set back in, Carly admits to Chance she made a mistake, forcing him to come to grips that there is no hope left for their marriage. Fate has other plans for them. Carly’s fall down some stairs leaves her with amnesia…but that’s only the start of it.Can deception bring a second chance at love or will it forever destroy an already broken marriage?