Diana Lesire Brandmeyer: Writing With A Distinct Mind Of Her Own

Everyone's Story gives a great big virtual hug and a welcome back to multi-published author of both fiction and non-fiction, Diana Lesire Brandmeyer. Diana has a new e-book release out in January with Tyndale House Publishers. Since it's the holiday season, this segment will be light with lots of fun. Diana shares a blurb of MIND OF HER OWN, which she is offering as a Giveaway! Check out the excerpt she shares below... a great read! Plus, she has conjured up a a list of dream readers. Diana would enjoy hearing from you. Come share your thoughts on what you enjoy reading, or just say a hello ♡

Book Giveaway Offer:

One randomly chosen commenter will receive one e-version of MIND OF HER OWN upon its release in January '13... just around the corner! And here's some great news: because this is an e-book, anyone in any country can be a winner. The winner will be announced between 4-5 EST on December 21st. For convenience, please leave your email address within the body of your comment. Thanks.
Back Cover Copy: Who knew making dinner could change your life? Louisa Copeland certainly didn’t. But when the George Foreman grill fell out of the pantry onto her head, resulting in a bump and a mighty case of amnesia, Louisa’s life takes a turn for the unexpected. Who was this Collin fellow, claiming she was his wife? And whose kids are those? Her name couldn’t be Louisa. Why, she was the renowned romance writer Jazz Sweet, not a Midwestern mom of three. Struggling to put the pieces together of the life she’s told she had, Louisa/Jazz may realize that some memories are better left alone.

For your reading pleasure, here's an excerpt from MIND OF HER OWN:

MIND OF HER OWN

DIANA LESIRE BRANDMEYER

Copyright © 2013 by Diana Lesire Brandmeyer. All rights reserved.

Chapter One

Rain pelted the ceiling- to-floor windows of the family room.

The grayness of the evening invaded Louisa Copeland’s mind

and home. The oversize chair she snuggled in helped hide

her surroundings. The thick romance in her hand further

darkened her mood as she read how the hero whisked away

the heroine for a surprise dinner on some pier. Were there

relationships like that? She didn’t know of any.

“Give it to him!” Joey, her five- year-old son, joined the

fray as Madison, her twelve- year-old daughter, dangled a

plastic horse over the head of Tim, her youngest son, just

out of his reach.

Jolted from the fantasy world into the real one, where

rainy days turned children into caged animals, Louisa gripped

the book tight and took five deep breaths. “Madison, if you

don’t give it back to Tim now, I will take your phone away

for the rest of the day.”

Madison’s eyes narrowed. “Daddy won’t let you.”

“He isn’t here at the moment. He is working but will be

home for dinner, and you can discuss it with him then. But

for now give it to Tim.”

“Baby.” Madison sneered at Tim. “Take your stupid

horse.”

Problem solved, Louisa retreated into the book to finish

the chapter. Done, she sighed and laid the book face up

on the side table next to her reading chair. The love-

struck characters standing in front of a houseboat mocked her from

the cover and filled her with jealousy. She longed to be the

woman between those pages. She closed her eyes, pursed her

lips against her hand, and tried to imagine the feel of Collin’s

lips on hers.

She couldn’t. Her hand didn’t smell woodsy like Collin.

Why would it? They hadn’t slept together in over a week. Not

since that hurtful night when he’d accused her of not loving

him enough. And until he apologized, he wouldn’t be back

in her bed. She wasn’t going to give in this time, even if she

did toss and turn all night in that enormous bed because she

missed him. But letting him back in her bed without a true

“I’m sorry” would mean he’d won, and she couldn’t accept

that. He would have to come to her first, and sending her

those two dozen roses didn’t count either. She knew he had

his secretary call the florist, and Louisa didn’t want a quick-

fix apology. No, she wanted a heartfelt, grand gesture of some

kind. She hadn’t quite figured out what it would take for

Collin to make the sting of his words dissolve, but she knew

it would have to come from him, not his office staff.

“Mom? Are you kissing your hand?”

Startled by her son, Louisa felt her face flush. Her thoughts

twirled around themselves as she tried to come up with a reason

for her action. “I was pretending to be a jellyfish. See?”

She put the back of her hand against her lips and wiggled her

fingers like tentacles.

“Why?” His serious face moved closer to hers to inspect

the gesture.

“Because I was reading a book that has the ocean and jellyfish

in it.” She could tell Tim believed her the minute his

hand went to his own face. He walked away with his own

pretend jellyfish flailing its tentacles.

She considered the morality of lying to her child but

dismissed it. Her children didn’t need to know she couldn’t

remember how their father’s kisses felt. She and Collin had

lost the spark, the excitement and joy. Even their communication

had dwindled to no more than a few small phrases—“

Where’s the paper?” and “Have you seen my

phone?” Did his commitment to her exist any longer? Had

he found someone else?

Her head started to pound again from a migraine that had

first made its appearance when a save-

the-date for her family reunion had arrived in the morning mail. She still couldn’t

believe it. A save- the-date? When did my family get so fancy? A

phone call from her mother had followed minutes later. She

demanded that Louisa tell her whether or not she and Collin

would be there. An argument had started about Louisa being

a snob and not wanting to know her own family, not wanting

to spend time with her mother, which then led into why

Louisa and Collin weren’t taking the children to church. The

call ended with the usual rebuttal of “We will when we find

a church we like.”

Her mother always brought out Louisa’s obstinate side.

Louisa knew she had that effect on her own daughter, but she

wasn’t sure how to fix either problem. She rubbed a thumb

knuckle into the center of her forehead the way the neurologist

had shown her to ease the pain. She wouldn’t be scratching

cleaning the van off her list today. Bending over made

the pounding worse.

This morning, Collin had promised he would be home for

dinner— for the first time since he’d announced he wanted to

make partner this year at his firm. He’d informed her that he

would be working extra hours and expected her to take care

of the family. So she did her part and his. Then, less than a

month later, he’d accused her of loving the children more

than she loved him. How could he make that judgment since

he was never home? The roses his secretary sent the next day

didn’t even make it to a vase. She’d trotted out to the curb

and stuffed them in the trash, where he’d see them when he

came home that night. Since then, the two of them had lived

like oil and vinegar unshaken in a jar.

Thunder rolled and lighting sparked in the distance.

Maybe Collin wanted to make amends tonight, and that was

why he was making an effort to be home early. Or maybe he

wanted to tell her something else, something she might not

want to hear. Would she listen? What if he wanted to tell

her she wasn’t the kind of wife a partner at his firm would

need? She did complain about having to attend office functions.

They made her feel small— just a stay- at-home mom.

She couldn’t compete with the woman lawyers, especially

Emmie, the tall, stick- thin beauty who had an office next

to Collin. Louisa could share a recipe or where the best dog

park was located, but nothing brilliant or witty crossed her

lips anymore. She rose from her chair and walked to the glass

door. The waves on the lake had increased in height. Cleo,

their dog, was out there somewhere.

Did Collin love someone else? Like a virus, the image of

Emmie with her cute clothes and bright smile at the Fourth

of July party threaded from Louisa’s mind and invaded her

spirit. She swallowed back the fear that rose from her heart

and lodged in her throat. That just couldn’t happen. Collin

was hers and only hers. He didn’t belong to the firm or anyone

else. She had to find a way to make him understand that

she did love him, that he came first in her life. She wished

she could open up and tell him everything. Maybe then he

would . . . no, he would never love her if he knew her secret.

No, that story could never be told. She would have to find

another way.

The first thing she’d do was prepare a meal so delicious he

wouldn’t want to miss another one. She knew it was foolish

to put such expectations on her cooking but held out that

there might be a fraction of hope, a glimmer of a possibility.

Behind her, Madison shrieked at her brother, lurching

Louisa back to her own reality show. “Give me back the

remote!”

“It’s my turn!” Joey tried to outshout his sister.

“Yeah, it’s our turn!” four- year-old Tim echoed.

The noise brought fresh, sharp spears of pain to Louisa’s

head. With a sigh, she ignored the opportunity to jump into

the fray and yell herself. In her stocking feet she crossed the

great expanse of the golden oak floor to the kitchen, which

was located to the side of the family room. When they first

moved in, it had seemed like a great floor plan, all open, but

now she regretted having chosen it. It made her always available

to the children, and if one room wasn’t picked up, the

whole house looked like a mess.

The clock in the entryway chimed five times. The hour

had come! If only she could cook like Emeril, she might

have a chance to win back her husband’s love— or at least

his presence at the table. Then again, Collin might break his

promise to her and the kids again and not even come home

for dinner.

She flipped through the cookbook that rested on top of a

cobalt- blue stand, where it usually sat for looks.

“Mom?” Tim ran circles around the kitchen island. “Joey

and me want a snack.”

“Not now.” The page in front of her held a beautiful

prospect for a meal, just not one made by her. Who cooks

dinner like this? She flipped the page. Why had she bought

this book? Surely she didn’t think she would ever have time

to prepare a dish from it or be able to get her children to eat

it. . . . She read the ingredient list. What is jicama?

“Mom, can we have Crunch Squares for dinner?” Tim

interrupted her thoughts, tugging on the bottom of her shirt.

Louisa turned her attention from the cookbook pages.

She placed her hands on her hips in her don’t-

mess-with-me stance and stared down at two small, pleading faces. Her

sons craved anything coated or sprinkled with sugar. “Sorry,

boys, you cannot have cereal for dinner. You need protein

and vegetables so you grow big and strong like your daddy.”

She pried Joey’s fingers from the bright orange and red cardboard

box.

“The commercial says it has all the vitamins and nutrients

we need.” Madison bellowed her opinion from the family

room.

“Don’t believe everything you see on TV, Madison.”

Making dinner night after night for three kids and Collin

had never entered her mind when she said “I do” at the

church thirteen years ago. She closed the book, weary of its

glossy pictures. She couldn’t pull off a gourmet meal tonight,

not with this roaring headache. She’d be better prepared this

weekend. Possibly Collin would eat with them Sunday night

if she gave him enough notice.

“We’re having grilled chicken.” She looked down at

the two waifs standing in front of her. Joey and Tim both

frowned in unison. She blinked at their action and shrugged

it off. Some days she thought those two had to be twins, even

though that was physically impossible since she had given

birth to them twelve months apart. “You two, pick up the

fort you’ve assembled in the other room. I don’t want to see

or step on even one plastic block tonight.”

“It’s not a fort. It’s a space station.” Tim scrunched his face

in disgust. “I told you a hundred times, Mom.”

“It’s a grand space station, but you still need to put it

away.” She watched them leave the room, thinking a sloth

could move faster than those two when it came to cleaning.

Chicken— that’s what she was doing, wasn’t it? What

else should she put on the table? Maybe a salad and mac

and cheese, she thought. Yes, that would be best. It would

cause less tension around the table if everyone had something

they liked.

Cleo whimpered at the back door. Her nails scratching

against the glass felt like tiny needles pushing into Louisa’s

optic nerves. It ratcheted her headache higher on the pain-

management scale. She had never wanted a big dog, but

Collin wouldn’t settle for anything small. Not even medium

size. It had to be a brindled Great Dane, the gentle beast,

to make him happy. It didn’t matter to him that she would

be the one hauling the dog to the vet and puppy day care

for socialization and training classes. She tried to ignore the

pathetic whining coming through the door. Maybe the kids

would let the dog inside.

Peering through the open archway, Louisa checked to see

if anyone was moving. She could hear a satisfying plunk of

plastic hitting plastic— the boys were picking up like she’d

asked. Slow, but at least the rug had begun to appear. She had

been cleaning for most of the day and wanted to enjoy an

orderly space after dinner. Madison lay on the couch with her

head hanging over the end. Her blonde hair almost touched

the floor as it moved in time to a music video.

“Madison, let Cleo in before she chews through the door.”

“But, Mom, this is my favorite song,” Madison whined

from the couch. “Can’t Joey let her in?”

“No. I told you to do it.” Louisa squatted down in front

of the cabinet and grabbed a pot for the macaroni. As it filled

with water, she rubbed her temples with her fingers. Cleo

scratched against the door again.

Louisa felt herself stiffen as she prepared to go into battle

with Madison. She turned to see what her daughter was

doing. Madison had stood but had not moved in the direction

of the door. Instead she watched the television screen

and swayed to the beat of the music.

“Madison, step away from the TV.”

“I’m going. You don’t have to tell me everything twice. I’m

not stupid.” She glared at her mother.

This is what the counselor they were seeing called a standoff.

She and Collin were supposed to be stern in their commands

and follow through with them. Well, she didn’t have

any problem with following through, but Collin did. All

Madison had to do was turn her lower lip down into a pout

and Collin backed off, afraid to upset his little girl. There was

a time when Collin would do anything for me, too, she thought.

Those days disappeared the minute Madison said “Daddy.”

Louisa removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. The

intensity of the headache rose. “Thank you, Madison, for

promptly doing what I asked.”

Madison clenched her lips tight, straightened her back,

and stomped over to the door and yanked it open. Cleo came

bounding through, her nails clicking over the wooden floor

like fingers on a keyboard. Madison turned, whipping her

long hair around like a weapon, and stared at Louisa as if to

say, “I did it. Don’t ask me to do anything else ever again.”

“Thank you.” Louisa slid her glasses back on and smoothed

her hair behind her ears. She checked to make sure the boys

were still doing as she’d asked. They were making progress.

The clock in the entryway weakly imitated England’s Big

Ben at the half- hour mark. It wouldn’t be long before Collin

came home. Maybe he would relieve her tonight. A hot

bath— no, a long, hot bath, she corrected herself—

sounded wonderful if not dreamlike. Please, God, let him be in a good

mood and willing to play with the kids tonight, she offered in

silent prayer. She loved these kids; she really did. It was just

that today, with all their requests, they had drained her of the

will to live. School had begun less than a month ago. Why

the school board felt the teachers needed to take off already

for a two-day conference escaped her tonight.

Back in the kitchen, Louisa picked up a glass from the

counter, a dribble of milk left in the bottom. A quick rinse

under the faucet, and then she placed it in the dishwasher.

All the small chores were done. The counter no longer held

books, toys, or dirty dishes. Louisa opened the pantry door

and caught a cereal box as it fell. She shook it. Almost empty.

Someone had been snacking in secret, probably Madison.

She reached for the indoor grill on the top shelf. The cord

dripped over the edge and dangled in her way. She wrapped

it around her hand to keep it out of her face. Standing on

tiptoes, she used her fingertips to work the grill out.

Barking, Cleo burst through the kitchen, chased by Joey.

“Stop running in the house!” They wouldn’t; she knew

from past experience. Once Cleo began a game, she wouldn’t

quit until she wanted to. Louisa almost had the grill in her

hands. If she were just a little taller . . . there! She balanced

it on her fingers.

“Look out!” Joey screamed.

Louisa jerked her head around and saw the tiger-

striped 120- pound dog skidding across the floor, straight for her. The

“gentle giant” rammed into her leg. She felt her sock- clad feet

give way and slide out from under her. The grill slipped from

her grasp as she fell to the floor. Her last thought was that

dinner would be late.

***

Salt water burned her lips as she floated onto a white, sandy

beach. Piccolo notes from seagulls called to her as they landed

in an uneven line onshore. They hunted for forgotten corn

curls and abandoned sandwich crusts, their tiny claws etching

the sand behind them. A flash of white danced into her

view. She glanced at the gauzy skirt grazing her ankles and

wondered when she’d changed clothes. Then she noticed her

hand held a bundle of calla lilies tied with a dark- green

satin ribbon that trailed to her knees.

Next to her, the ocean increased its crescendo. Froth

swirled around her bare feet, and the small white bubbles

tickled her toes. Like a child, she wove up and down the

shore, playing a game of tag with the swash marks on the

sandy shoreline. She slowed her steps as a man ahead of her

grew larger and larger until she finally stood next to him. He

didn’t have a name, but she knew she would marry him this

day. Her lips began to form the words “I do” when a voice

crashed her wedding.

“Come on, baby, wake up.” Warm fingers brushed across

her cheek. Startled, she tried to open her eyelids, but they felt

weighted as if someone had stacked pennies on them. Peeking

through her lashes, she discovered a pair of chocolate-

brown eyes gazing into hers. And not the milk- chocolate

kind but the dark, eat- me-now-and-I’ll-solve-your-problems kind.

She tried to sit, but the onslaught of pain in her head stilled

her like Atlanta traffic in a snow shower. Bright light lit the

room around her, but it wasn’t a room she knew.

“Louisa, baby. You gave me quite a scare. How do you

feel?” His hand trembled as it gently swept across her

forehead.

“I’m Jazz.” Her words oozed like cold honey past her

thickened tongue. She was desperate for information and a

cool drink of water. “Wrong woman. Where am I?”

His hand dropped to his side, and he stepped back from

her. “Dr. Harrison?” His weight shifted from one foot to

the other.

The man she assumed to be the doctor maneuvered past

Mystery Man. From his pocket, he pulled out a penlight and

shone it into her eyes.

“Evil man. That’s a bit torturous to my brain.” She swatted

at his hand but pulled back before making contact, realizing

his purpose was to help, not hurt her.

“You’re in the ER. You suffered a nasty bump on the head,

Louisa. You have a concussion, which is making your head

hurt.” He clicked off the light and placed it back into the

pocket of his lab coat. “Your scan came back clean. There is

no bleeding in your brain. I’ll have the nurse come in and

unhook the heart monitor in a minute. You can go home

with your husband in a little while.”

“Husband?” The monitor showed a jump in her heart rate.

“Please, I’m not who you think I am.” She wished for them

both to dissolve from her sight and for someone, anyone,

even a disgruntled fan, to appear in their place. Something

like wind seemed to roar in her ears, and she struggled to

catch her breath.

“Just calm down. Take a few breaths.” Dr. Harrison patted

her hand.

The old, reliable remedy— take in oxygen and the world’s

problems will be solved. Somehow that made her feel normal.

She could go home soon, or at least Louisa could. She

closed her eyes, willing the two of them to go away.

“Open your eyes, Louisa,” the doctor ordered.

Still not willing to play their game, she compromised and

opened one. “Light hurts. I’m not Louisa.”

“You’re just a bit confused right now. Your name is Louisa,

Louisa Copeland. The bang on your head gave you quite a

headache, didn’t it?” The doctor patted her arm as if doing

that would change her identity. “This is all to be expected,

just a bit of disorientation. Don’t worry. Once the swelling

goes down, you should remember everything.”

Respect for his position kept her from saying that maybe

he needed to switch places with her. After all, she knew she

was Jazz Sweet.

The doctor turned his back to her. “Collin, I think you

need to take her home. Once she’s home in familiar surroundings,

I believe her memory will return.”

Collin. She considered the name. Irish, she thought. A

romance hero’s name. Maybe she would use it in her next

book. He certainly looked the part— strong chin and thick

brown hair that begged for a path to be wound through it

with willing fingers.

“What if she doesn’t?” Collin asked.

“Take her to your family doctor for a follow- up tomorrow.

Wake her a couple times tonight and ask her questions.

Make her answer with words; full sentences would be even

better.” She heard the familiar rough scratch of pen on paper.

“Give her acetaminophen or ibuprofen tonight.” He tore the

paper from his pad and slapped it into Collin’s hand. “Fill

this for pain if she needs it.”

Home? Whose home? Jazz dropped the characterization of

her newest hero. Home with Collin? She focused on those

three words. That couldn’t be right— she loved adventure, but

going home with a man she didn’t know went beyond what she

would do for book material. She didn’t go anywhere without a

folder full of notes, and she hadn’t spent any time researching

living with this man. Panic ran like ice water down her neck.

She struggled to prop herself up on an elbow and demand

an explanation. The end of the bed wavered like a desert

mirage, causing her to wonder if the head injury had affected

her sight. She squinted, trying to sharpen her vision, but it

didn’t help much.

She needed to tell the doctor— maybe then he wouldn’t

send her with this man. Jazz started to call out, but the white

of the doctor’s coat blurred out of her sight before she could

recall his name.

Collin bent over her. She noticed that for a man who’d

been working all day, he still smelled nice. “Well, honey, you

heard him. Let’s get you back home.”

“Water. Please.” She pointed to a sweating water bottle

that beckoned just out of her reach. Collin put it in her hand

but held on to it. For a moment she thought he planned to

help her bring it to her lips like an invalid. Good thing he

didn’t or he’d be wearing it, she wanted to say, but thirst won

over talking.

The liquid slid down her parched throat. Feeling better,

she returned the bottle to him and then hit him with the big

question. “Tell me who Louisa is and why you think I’m her!”

***

Collin sank down in the chair next to Louisa’s bed. She

looked paler than his daughter’s collectible porcelain dolls.

“You don’t remember us?”

“Remember you? No. I’ve never met you. Wait, you

weren’t at Jen’s party, were you?” Hope touched the edge of

her voice.

“Who’s Jen?” He rubbed his earlobe while he went

through a quick list of Louisa’s friends.

“My agent. Jen is my agent.”

“Agent? For what?” He knew they hadn’t been communicating

well, but when did she decide to sell their house? No,

she’d said her agent, not ours.

“I write inspirational romance novels.” She crumpled the

edge of the bedsheet between her fingers.

“Romance?” Collin felt like he had fallen into another

dimension. Louisa had never written a word, much less a

book or books. She had said novels, as in more than one.

Hadn’t she? He assessed the situation. It had to be a grasp for

attention. He had been working hard, and yes, he probably

deserved this. He’d play along for a little bit. “Who do you

think you are?”

“Jazz Sweet. I live at . . . on an island or the coast. Florida,

I think.” She rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers.

“Louisa, you win, okay? I’m sorry— I really am— about

what I said.” He squeezed his hand into a fist and then

released it, a futile attempt at ridding himself of the tension

in his body. “Let’s not play games here. It’s late, and it would

be nice to go home, wouldn’t it?”

“Games? What games are we playing?” She cocked her

head at him, her eyebrow raised in question.

The look she gave him wasn’t one he recognized. She truly

looked lost and confused. His gut clenched. She really didn’t

know who she was. “Never mind, it’s not important. Once

you get home, I’m sure you’ll be back to normal.”

“Go find your wife. Maybe she’s in the next room.” She

waved her hand at him as if to dismiss him. The diamonds

on her finger caught the overhead light and winked at him.

Collin grasped her hand out of the air. He felt a tug at his

heart as she struggled to pull away from him. “Wait. Look at

your hand. See, you have a wedding ring; it belonged to my

great- grandmother.” He traced it with his finger. “Honey,

you’re not a writer. And you live with us in Hazel, Illinois.”

She brought her hand close to her face and inspected

the ring as if she had never seen it before. She jerked her

face toward his, and comprehension of the plural word rode

across her face. “Us? How many people make an us?”

“You, me, and . . .”

She tapped her lower lip with two fingers as she concentrated

on the information he was giving her.

“The kids.” He leaned back in the chair, confident she

would remember the children.

Louisa splayed her hand against her chest. “Kids? What

kids?” she squealed as if he’d said she lived with a rowdy

bunch of sailors. “I think I had better call Kristen now.”

Collin grew even more confused, starting to doubt he was

looking at his own wife. Louisa loved those kids. How could

she not remember them?

“Who’s Kristen?” he managed to ask while massaging the

back of his neck with his hand.

“She is my assistant. She’s organized and knows all my

plans. I can’t keep any deadline without her.” She peered

around him. “Is there a phone in here?”

Collin looked at the ceiling and counted the white tiles

over the bed. He took a deep breath, then let it out. “I’ll call

Kristen if you give me her number.”

“I– I don’t know it,” Louisa stuttered. Her blue eyes filled

with tears, and she whipped her face away from him. The

tension in his shoulders eased. This was a behavior he recognized.

Louisa never let him see her cry.

“Then for now, why don’t you come home with me?” He

used the persuasive voice he typically saved for jurors.

“But . . .”

He placed his fingers on her lips to silence her. “I know

you’re my wife, even if you can’t remember. So I’m thinking,

why not come home with me and see if your memory returns?”

“You really think I’m your wife?” She glanced at the door

expectantly as if waiting for someone to come and tell him

differently.

“I know it. And I can prove it when we get home. I’ll

show you our wedding pictures.” Louisa had organized their

photos in matching albums. It wouldn’t take any effort to

find the right year.

“Did we get married on the beach?” Uncertainty shone on

her face, but her voice held confidence that he would say yes.

Collin took another punch to his gut. She didn’t remember

the expensive wedding— her very own fairy- tale day, she’d

called it. He shook his head. “No, Louisa. We were married

in your parents’ church.”

“Again, not me.” Louisa swung her legs to the edge of the

bed. She grabbed her head with both hands. “Ouch. What

happened to me, anyway?”

“The indoor grill fell on your head.”

She snorted. “Right, like I own one of those.”

“You do. While you were getting it off the shelf, Cleo

knocked you down.”

“Is Cleo your daughter?”

Collin rubbed his chin with his hand and held back a

groan of frustration. “Cleo is our dog, a Great Dane, our

gentle beast.”

“Collin?” Her voice softened, and he leaned in closer to

hear. “How many kids are there?”

“Just the three,” he said.

“Three? Just three? Do you— we—have a nanny?” She

rubbed the side of her face with the palm of her hand.

Collin laughed at the absurdity of the question, then

sobered, realizing she didn’t know the answer to her own

question. This could not be good. He summoned his patience

before speaking. “Louisa, you didn’t want a nanny for them,

remember?”

“No. I don’t remember. I’m Jazz— have you forgotten?

And I’ve decided. I will not be going anywhere with you.

Who knows? You might be a serial killer or a stalker.” She

crossed her arms and held them against her chest.

“I’m not either of those things. Look, honey, I’m tired.

I’ve worked over twenty- five hours this week and it’s only

Tuesday. I shouldn’t even have come home when I did, but I

promised you that I would make it for dinner.”

“Please don’t call me ‘honey,’ ‘cutie,’ or any of those couple

names. We’re not a couple, and besides, they sound silly.”

He didn’t know what to say. Louisa liked his terms of

endearment. Didn’t she? The differences between the wife he

had left at home this morning and this seemingly new one

dumbfounded him.

“Why did you get married and have a family if you weren’t

going to participate? What kind of important career do you

have? Do you save peoples’ lives? Are you a surgeon?” She

glared at him, waiting for an answer.

Her rapid- fire questioning made him feel like he was

standing on the courthouse steps facing a battalion of reporters.

It didn’t matter that the question was one he’d been asking

himself lately— right now, being home wasn’t feasible.

Not with several trial cases and the promise of a partnership

dangling in front of him. He didn’t have time for anything.

If Louisa wanted to be Jazz, he didn’t care as long as she kept

their family life intact. “I’m a lawyer. That means I have a

lot to do tonight. So get dressed and we’ll go home. I’m sure

you’ll remember everything when we get there.”

“I’m not going with you.” Louisa slid her legs back onto

the bed and pulled the sheet up under her chin like a child

refusing to go to school. “I’ll get dressed as soon as you leave,

and then I’m going to—to—”

“To what? Where are you going to go?” He waited to hear

her plan, watching her eyebrows bob up and down while she

thought. “Well?”

“I’ll go to a hotel. So there, problem solved. You don’t

have to worry about me anymore. You’re free to go.” Again,

she waved her hand toward the door, dismissing him as she

lay back against the pillow. “If you don’t mind, would you

hand me my purse before you leave?”

“It’s at home.” He looked down at her. Her blonde hair

feathered across the pillow and caught the light from overhead,

softening the silky strands. He reached out to touch

it as he often did, but her icy look kept him at a distance.

“That’s what you want? To be here alone in a hospital, in this

town, and not knowing anyone?”

She nodded and pointed to the door.

“Then I’ll go.” Collin paused at the doorway and turned

to give her a chance to change her mind. She didn’t say anything,

just lay there looking like a lost child, eyes wide and

fighting tears. “Nice meeting you, Jazz Sweet.” He knew he

needed to convince her to come home with him. He couldn’t

leave her here until her memory returned. There had to be a

way, but for now, he’d let her think she’d won this battle. He

left the room and didn’t look back. 

I suggested to Diana to ponder for this blog segment who may be reading a MIND OF HER OWN. And her's what she's imagined:

How fun! You want me to describe my fantasy fans who will be reading my ebook Mind of Her Own?

Let me think for a moment….okay after several diet Dr Pepper’s I’m ready.

1.     Keli, the ER nurse in St. Louis, breaks don’t happen often but when they do she reads Mind of Her Own on her phone.  She finds Jazz’s predicament interesting from a medical standpoint, plus it’s funny and she could use a giggle at work.

2.     Brad, the landscaper. He reads print books, but he’s finding it harder to see at night, and he’s bought something to read ebooks. He downloaded Mind of Her Own because the cover intrigued him, what could possibly be wrong with that woman? She’s gorgeous—her life should be perfect.

3.     Mei, in China reads Mind of Her Own under the covers at night. She’s a Christian, her parents are not, she’s hungry for any kind of word of Jesus.

4.      Yvetta, a young mom, understands exactly why Louisa might want to disappear from her life for a while. She’s leaning against the dryer at the Wash and Fold Laundromat reading on her phone. It’s the only time she gets any ‘me’ time because her husband doesn’t want to do the laundry so he watches the kids on Tuesday nights.

5.     Jean, is 83 and feels like she can keep up with technology thanks to her Grandson who bought her an e-reader already filled with books. She tells all her friends to get one. They are amazing, every book weighs the same even no matter how thick it is in print.  She also tells them about this poor woman in Mind of Her Own being knocked out while making dinner. What a hoot!

Thanks for having me on your blog today, Elaine. I’ve enjoyed imagining my readers and sharing them with your readers. 

Author's Bio:

Christian author, Diana Lesire Brandmeyer, writes historical and contemporary romances. Author of A Bride's Dilemma in Friendship, Tennessee and We’re Not Blended-We’re Pureed, A Survivor’s Guide to Blended Families. Once widowed and now remarried she writes with humor and experience on the difficulty of joining two families be it fictional or real life.

Connect with Diana:
Website
Diana's Blog
Twitter @dianabrandmeyer
Facebook

You can purchase MIND OF HER OWN at:
Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/Mind-of-Her-Own-ebook/dp/B00AEB3B6K/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1354662673&sr=8-3&keywords=mind+of+her+own

Barnes and Noble
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/mind-of-her-own-diana-lesire-brandmeyer/1113498025?ean=9781414381022

CBD
http://www.christianbook.com/mind-of-her-own-ebook/diana-brandmeyer/9781414381022/pd/34192EB?item_code=WW&netp_id=1055369&event=ESRCG&view=details