Your Favorite Romantic Couple

Readers often ask me which couple in my Amelia Island's      

https://www.amazon.com/Jane-Marie-Malcolm/e/B002ZFSBKE/

Goodbye Lie series is my favorite.  Since I gave birth to each of these characters, that is like asking me who my favorite child is.  I love them all because each one touches me in a different way.  I won't single out any specific player or give any hints whatsoever lest I hurt someone's feelings. Should that happen, they will let me hear about it in their Goodbye Lie Diaries. 

But I will ask you.  Who is your favorite couple?  (This is not one of my unscientific surveys.)  For those who have read all three books in the series, I would be surprised if you didn't find one of the three pairs more likeable or romantic or devoted than another.  And for those who have yet to read all three, I invite you to delve into their love stories. Why?  Because everybody loves a lover ...

the LURE, the LOVE, the LEGEND

of  THE GOODBYE LIE 

          

 Waite and Breelan in          

The Goodbye Lie E-book ($2.99) and Paperback Available Here

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his WANT, his WILL, his WAY

in Amelia Island's Velvet Undertow

               

 Carolena and Grey in

Amelia Island's Velvet Undertow E-book ($3.99) and Paperback Available Here


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the RAINS, the RAGE, the ROMANCE
of Amelia Island's Mark of a Man

        

Pat and Angelique in

Amelia Island's Mark of a Man E-book ($3.99) and Paperback Available Here

What a Surprise Plus The Goodbye Lie Diaries-Aunt Noreen

Present Day

Fernandina Beach on Amelia Island, Florida

Jane Marie types:  Have a look at the pictures to see what I saw as I pulled into the driveway of our humble home.  Not only was the bird sitting on our roof massive, but it held its outstretched wing in this position for at least five minutes.  It was plenty enough time for me to exit the car, grab my phone and snap these pictures. When it didn't fold its wing, I thought, perhaps, it was injured. I was happy to figure out the separated and ruffled feathers on its wing and head indicated it was all wet and now drying those feathers in the heat of the Florida sun. Finally, it shook itself and flew away.  While I've seen different birds in our time on Amelia Island, including my first Eastern Blue Bird the day before, this creature was remarkable with regard to its size and location, on the top of my house!   As to what kind of bird it was, the mailman said it was a buzzard. Whatever it was, I'll never forget it!  

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Late 1880s
Fernandina on Amelia Island, Florida
 

Aunt Noreen

Aunt Noreen writes: You may have seen a buzzard one time on top of your house, Jane Marie, but our family has a pet buzzard living next door to me.  We have named it Peeper! Having studied this particular species in depth because it eats with us as well as hovers inside and outside Dunnigan Manor, the vegetable garden, church, and the entire town, for that manner, it is difficult to escape its presence.  I warn all. Beware of the buzzards within. We all have them in our midst. 

*Aunt Noreen and Grandmother Peeper are featured and forever fighting characters in The Goodbye Lie historical romance series.  

 PURCHASE The Goodbye Lie Series HERE 

available in e-book and paperback

#1 Fresh Water Beach in USA - Mark of a Man Excerpt

BUY Amelia Island's Mark of a Man HERE

I live on Amelia Island, Florida.  With such a wonderful view of the Atlantic Ocean, I had to set my Goodbye Lie historical novels on and near the water.  Speaking of wonderful, I just received an email from a follower who shared that Presque Isle State Park in Erie, Pennsylvania, my hometown, has been voted by USA Today/10Best readers as the number one Fresh Water Beach in America!  USA Today-10 Best Fresh Water Beaches.  I knew it was beautiful long before any votes were taken. I spent many a teenage summer on those beaches.  

That, in part, is why I took the fictional Dunnigan family from Amelia Island up to Erie in my Amelia Island's Mark of a Man, to honor the place I lived and still love.  
  

Amelia Island's Mark of a Man Excerpt

Erie, Pennsylvania - 1898

    No discussion of her lack of culinary skills took place as they rode to the tavern in the small covered buggy with Pat on horseback beside. He answered questions about his new career and the family, filling in all he knew from letters he'd received, including a couple of short uninformative notes from Marie. He was sure their mother had guilted her into writing them. So, except for Uncle John's discourse about a long ago teaching career and cutting and selling ice blocks from Lake Erie in winter, nothing but chatty talk was offered this time or any of the other times Pat had visited. He was curious about Uncle John's first wife, whom he'd never met. All Pat ever heard was that she had died suddenly after birthing the last of four children. One by one, each had become estranged from their father. The reasons varied from his being too tough a taskmaster, to blaming him for their mother's death. Whatever the grounds, Pat felt sorry for his uncle and was glad, after years of solitude, that he’d found a woman to love again. 

   Aunt Jency was a youthful thing, barely older than Pat, himself. In the short while he'd known her, he decided he liked her. She seemed a fine and caring person, even if she wasn't much of cook. From the looks of her husband's belly, he was finding sustenance somewhere. 

    They caught sight of the rough, painted sign spelling out Crusty Anchor Pub in faded red letters. Pat envisioned it rowdy with mariners and didn't want to see Aunt Jency put in an uncomfortable position. To his pleasant surprise, the small place was mostly crowded with families. The chatter was high and the aroma wonderful. 

    They sat at a table in the center of the room with two dozen or so customers enjoying their meals. Twenty feet from the window, they crooked their necks to get a glimpse of the darkening sky and deep gray of Presque Isle Bay.

   "You know, y'all," Pat commented, "the scene outside reminds me of Florida, with the boats, I mean."

   "You'll be having your fill of water by the time your hitch is up in the Navy."

   "I know that's right, Uncle John," Pat agreed, but silently hoped he was wrong, since water was what floated his family's business.  

   "Hear that accent, y'all," mimicked a booming male voice. "Sounds like we got us a dirty Grayback clear up here in Erie."

   Tightly and quickly, Pat blinked, hoping that menacing voice behind him spouted only an empty challenge. Hags-teeth! Brawling got him where he was today. He tossed a glance toward Uncle John who was polishing his utensils on the sleeve of his plaid shirt and seemingly paying no mind. Jency, bending over her child, shielded the baby with her body. Pat stood, spun on his boot, and stepped away from the table, in case there was trouble. He tensed, saying, "The war's long past, man. If you still want to do this, I'll give you one free swing. After that—"

   Fortified by the contents of the stein in his fist and the pretty girl seated beside him, the man with the wild buttery-color beard and no mustache raised his voice further, while all others quieted. "Your kind killed my people at the Battle of Olustee."

   What was Pat to say?  He'd been to that particular battlefield, west of Fernandina, with his father when he was a boy. He'd heard the story of how close to a thousand Rebs and almost two thousand Yankees died, with it ending in a Confederate victory. Hell, Waite, himself, fought in that very skirmish.  

   Then his mother's voice drifted through his head, telling him to soften his tone to defuse a bad situation.  It made the angry person have to listen hard and, in the listening, it sometimes calmed matters. "I'm sorry you lost family. I honestly am. But y'all won the war, didn't you?"

   The bartender called out. "Horace Tagum. The sailor's right about that. If anybody's got a heart full a hate, it should be him.  His side lost. Your kin, whoever they was, done what any able man should and that's fight for his cause, for his country. I'll wager this Rebel will soon be doing that, himself."

   Taking pride in his heritage and grateful for the bartender's help, Pat answered, "Yes, sir. I'll be on my way to Cuba, shortly."

   The girl tugged at Horace, her face pleading for him to sit down. "Hmpf!" he spit, defeat in his tone.

   "How about we give you and Miss Julie some German chocolate cake, on the house," the barkeep offered.  "No hard feelings?"

   Sizing up the seaman, Horace was half-glad for the interference and more than delighted he'd earned himself some free dessert. "I guess we're good," Horace said, as his Julie squeezed his hand. Tonight would be a good night after all. 

   "Thanks," said Pat, nodding his appreciation to the barkeep.

   "You're plenty welcome. A little sugar and flour is cheaper than buying new furniture for my place."

   Pat winked as he returned to his table in time for a beefy waiter to deliver steaming bowls of their ordered stew. Uncle John, giving nary an acknowledgement of the incident, sliced the loaf of accompanying beer bread and slathered each piece with butter before passing the first portion to Jency, who still smiled in relief that there was no altercation. They ended their meal, appreciating their vanilla ice cream drizzled with honey and walnuts.

   Perpetua stirred, fussed, and Jency pulled forth a tea towel wrapped baby bottle. "Good, it's still warm."

   "It had best be," the child's father said. "We don't want our little girl to be unhappy."

   "My daddy always says girls are made for spoilin', Uncle John. I see you both have the same philosophy."

   Their attention turned from one another and back to the baby when she let out a huge wail as the bottle slipped from her mother's hand and pulled from Perpetua's mouth to crash to the floor. Spikes of glass glistened in the light of the oil lamps on the surrounding square tables.

   "Oh dear," Jency murmured, the worry heavy in her tone. "Perpetua may still be hungry. I never imagined this happening. I haven't another bottle with me."  She lifted the baby over her shoulder and patted the child's back. A soft burp erupted and Perpetua calmed down.

   "As we're always saying down home," Pat comforted, "another crisis averted. Just in case, though, shall we get more milk from the kitchen?"

   The man from behind the bar was on his way to their table with a mop and broom. "We got the milk and a place to warm it," he said. "It's the baby bottles we're out of. Sorry."

   "Shall we go before the poor thing realizes she hasn't had a full meal?" Uncle John ordered in the form of a question.  

   The buggy ride jostled Perpetua back to sleep. Pat talked softly so as not to wake her until her mother had prepared more milk. "Thank you both for a wonderful taste of home." The moment he'd said it, he realized the thoughtlessness of his remark. He would never intentionally hurt Jency's feelings about her cooking. "I mean—being with you has reminded me of my family in Fernandina. I miss them a great deal."

   Riding up to their front door, Pat dismounted and helped Jency and the baby down from the buggy. He didn’t go inside, but shook his uncle's hand and kissed the back of his aunt's on their front stoop.

   "Well, son, we'll write to your father and tell him what a fine man he has in you. Be sure and come visit us again when you get leave. Don't be a stranger."

   "I won't, sir." On his horse, "Thanks again, Uncle."

   "Goodbye, Pat." A tender smile lit Jency's face. Perpetua whimpered. "I must see to my little one. Goodbye."

   Riding away, Pat turned his ear in the direction of Uncle John's house.  Curious, he thought, how similar a child's cry was to that of a woman's...   

 So if you're in the deep South, stop by and see the clean, bright sandy beaches, and walk where the Dunnigans walked in the late 1800s. If you're keen of eye, you may spy a shark's tooth, too!  Should you be way up North, say, in Erie, be sure to drive to Presque and imagine some of those same Dunnigans looking for lucky stones, small, white oval rocks on the shore, in the warm spring and summer or even between the dazzling snowflakes!

Cast Iron and The Goodbye Lie Diaries-Peeper

Fernandina Beach on Amelia Island, Florida
Present time

Jane Marie writes:  My friend, Emmie Noble, had Bunko at her house the other day.  Emmie loves antiques, as do I.  Quick to spot the unusual, I spied this case iron string holder hanging from beneath her kitchen cabinet. 

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Fernandina on Amelia Island, Florida

1880s

Grandmother Peeper writes:  

I have one a them twine holders ahangin' in my pantry. I use the string ta tie up chicken legs and packages. Miss Ella is forever sendin' gifts and such ta her sister, Aunt Coe.  I have been knowed ta tie a piece a  string about my wrist in order ta remind me not ta fight with Aunt Noreen.  It don't stay on my wrist fur too long 'cause I like ta fight with Noreena. I always win. 

Fort Clinch Jollification

Bruce and Jane Marie

Once again, we enjoyed the Jollification of Fort Clinch, here on Amelia Island, Florida.  The now annual Christmas celebration was postponed last year from mid-December to January 2016 over concern the high winds might spark a fire from the big bonfire on the parade ground, or the lanterns and candles lighting the fort. Entrance fees were waived in lieu of one canned good per person for the local food pantry.

popcorn and paper cones

The fort's store with candy and handmade items for sale, the prison, complete with a drunkard behind bars asking for food, the bunks with reenactors'/soldiers' gear strewn about in semi-orderly fashion, 1,200 cookies and hot cocoa for the visitors and a fife playing in the dark of night, carried us all back to 1864.

My husband, Bruce, and I were greeters at the fort's entrance, wearing our version of 1864 costumes, that looked suspiciously like our Victorian garb, sans my picture hat, recently worn for the Dickens on Centre Street event here in December, last, as well. (If you love history, our island is proud to share it with everyone.) 

I took the photos below with a flash in order to make out the images in the dark.

Note the handpainted checker board

 

This soldier told me the gold decoration on the front of his uniform shows he is a musician and not carrying a weapon.

Fort Clinch, at night, is a dark place...

 

 

 

PS A reenactor said the term jollification goes back to 1810 and means, simply, celebration and merriment of any sort. It isn't just for Christmas.

A Lucy Moment - What Does It Mean?

It was a gray and nasty day and there I was, signing books at Books Plus in Fernandina.  I looked out the rain streaked window to see one of those roadside snipe signs, which read: OKS.  Hmm, thought I.  Could it stand for Oklahoma State, Old Kings' School, Odd Key Store?  Then the wind blew the other way and the bent sign straightened out to read: BOOKS.

2014 Annual Christmas Letter

                       MERRY CHRISTMAS
                                    from 
               AMELIA ISLAND, FLORIDA

Dear Friends,

It is the last month of the year and that means it's time to alert you to some of the more important happenings that occurred in our family in 2014. Here we go!

Mother has legally adopted the metal letter opener she found.  Its tip is crooked, but it will still slice open an envelope. Mother always says no one and nothing should be rejected just because it looks funny.  That’s why she married Father.

Father’s circulation in his feet is poor.  One good thing about it is that he needn’t buy dress socks any more since it looks like he’s always wearing dark blue socks anyway.  With no socks, he has no need for a sock drawer.  Instead, he stores his once-used toothpicks there until he needs them again.

Daughter played the angel in the Christmas pageant. She locked her knees, fell out of the tree and rolled down the hill.  She’s glad she knows what to expect next year.

The wind blew.

Father smells the lunch meat to see if it is still eatable.  They haven’t had to pump his stomach since Tuesday, now that his sinuses have cleared from his head cold.

Mother got one of those new smart phones.  She isn’t impressed.  Each time she asks it to cook dinner, it refuses.  And it won’t even respond when she tells it to sweep the floor.

Cousin Oily learned to play the canjo with his nose.  Because his instrument has only one string and he has ten fingers, he did the math and  reasoned using one nose would be less confusing.   Oh, he has been doing the family taxes for free these last three years, too!  Father will return the call to the IRS once the holidays are over.

Grandbaby Girl can ride a bike now, although she will only ride in the driveway because she’s scared of traffic. She is wearing a groove in the pavement. That’s okay. It makes for better drainage when the hurricanes hit.

Our potatoes have grown eyes.

There are naked footprints on the beach!             

Uncle Monkey doesn’t look like a chimp anymore since they shaved his back and made him wear clothes.

Until next year!

PS    Super Popular Post – Santa Paintbrush Ornament http://graciousjanemarie.blogspot.com/2011/12/santa-paintbrush-ornament.html

Origin of The Goodbye Lie Series

I am often asked how the idea of The Goodbye Lie story began.  I answer it this way:

"Island living has given rise to my writing.  The characters in Amelia Island's Goodbye Lie series find me as I walk the same beach as they, starting more than one hundred years earlier. The ocean wind carries their whispers past my ear and, from those whispers, I capture their tales of love and hardship, and hilarity and triumph. A citizen of their same town of Fernandina, I stroll the same roads with still-standing Victorian homes, watch the same waves and endure the same weather as my fictional friends. They have joined my family and, through my novels, they want to be part of your family, too."  - Jane Marie 

Beach Warning

When you are at the beach, it is always a good idea to know what the different color warning flags mean. The International Lifesaving Federation has determined these colors define the surf conditions and hazards in the water.

 

a weekend at Main Beach in Fernandina on Amelia Island, Florida

- note yellow flag on lifeguard chair

 

 sign posted on lifeguard chair explains the meaning of each of the different colored flags

 

 Rip currents are a serious danger to swimmers but can be survived by swimming parallel to shore. Read the sign above for details.

 

Lightning Alert

When there is lightning within two miles of our Main Beach area, a fifteen second alarm sounds and a strobe flashes, warning that a storm is headed our way and will arrive anytime from eight to sixteen minutes. Everyone is to clear the ocean and the beach.  After the bad weather passes through, you will hear three five-second  blasts of the horn indicating it is safe to return to the beach.

 

Remember it's safety first when it comes to the all-powerful

Mr. Ocean, as we like to call the great Atlantic. 

Editor Says

My Amelia Island's Mark of a Man is in the final phase, with

Amelia Island's Mark of a Man
working cover

the editor.   An editor is necessary to catch typos, loose ends, consistency. The author just can't because his/her brain fills in how the copy should be, thereby, missing those typos, etc.

I'm getting excited.  I hope the editorial comments I'll pepper throughout this blog will get you excited, too, because the more readers who join us, the more feedback we get and the more fun it all will be. I just love hearing different takes on the characters, the storyline, the whole feel of a novel.  

Here is one quote from my editor: "This is the most romantic line I have ever read, so put it on the back cover with the rest of the blurb."  Time past, she longed to live solely from the air of his lungs for it would mean they were completely dependent upon one another.

Stay tuned, dear readers. Amelia Island's Mark of a Man is just off shore and will be landing soon in book stores and book sources everywhere! 

A Gift - B for Breelan

    Mary Jo W. from Sacramento, California,  surprised me with this handmade and very, very pretty letter B representing Breelan Dunnigan, the heroine in The Goodbye Lie! 

    "Your Breelan touched the deepest part of my heart with her self-sacrifice and devotion," writes Mary. "I wanted to do something to honor her.  Nothing fancy, nothing that Leona Visper, her rival, would appreciate, just something simple and sweet. It is a craft they might have made back in 1882, as well.  Clover could have cut out the letter and then Breelan or Carolena or Nora would crinkle the pretty paper and glue it on.  Thank you, Jane Marie, for bringing Breelan Dunnigan to life for me and all those others in the world who have come to love her, too.  And it is always great fun to read about her and the Dunnigan family, including Aunt Noreen and Peeper, in your Goodbye Lie Diaries."

 

 

Dear Mary,

   When I hear from a reader who "gets" our Goodbye Lie world, it makes me smile. The fact that you took time from your life to make this for me, well, I will treat it like the treasure it is.  I think I will hang it in my Story Central office.  Each time my eyes fall upon it, I will be reminded of my new friend, Mary Jo, who clearly has a gentle and generous spirit, just like Breelan.  I thank you for your kindness.

                                                                Jane Marie

Nineteen Shades of Day

Amelia Island, Florida