Five Fact Thurday - Think you've got things sorted? What happens when Fate Takes a Hike?
5 Fun facts from B. D. Storey
1. Jacob Berman was born in Clarksville, Tn, which is where I have called home since 1973 or so.
2. I also joined the military right out of high school, but not for the same reasons Jacob did.
3. Josie loves playing in the ball pit at the pizza place with her daughter. I loved doing that with my kids when we took them to Chucky Cheese. Also, Skeeball is my favorite game and I would win my kids tons of tickets.
4. Azton Washington is a fictitious town loosely based on the Lake Priest area of Washington, which is north of Spokane.
5. Hallmark movies were the inspiration for me to write the story, as a challenge to myself.
Josie Callison was a single mother of one, living with her mom in Azton, WA, where she grew up. The past few years had been hard on Josie. First, she lost her husband suddenly. A year later, her father passed away quietly in his sleep. It seemed only right to move back home to help her mother with the struggling family business and take time to heal and raise her daughter.
Jacob Berman, widower and former soldier, has seen his share of death, the latest being the loss of his wife and child. Living alone and keeping mostly to himself gave him time to work on the plan made by him and his wife for their future in Azton. Swearing off dating ensured that nothing else could cause his heart and soul any more pain.
On that clear and beautiful Saturday, neither expected to be falling down a hill or rescuing a damsel in distress. But, as we all know, Fate rarely asks us for our input when planning our lives. When Fate decides that two broken hearts can heal each other, it will use all the tools at its disposal to put those hearts on the same path. That includes a demonic rabbit intent on hiker mauling.
Release Date 6th August
Where you will find Fate Takes a Hike
Amazon - both formats
Barnes and Noble - both formats
Google Play - EBook
Kobo - EBook
Mist from the early morning rain clung to the trees and mixed with the light breeze to cool the sweat on my face as I walked up the small trail.
Just past the halfway point to the glade, I stepped over the roots of old Splitjaw. At some point in its past, the aged fir tree had been bent over and broken, creating a necklike structure where the shattered ends split open, making the trunk look like the opened jaws of an alligator. Kara, my fiancé, named it Splitjaw during our first hike in this area.
I smiled, thinking back to that day and her silliness. She’d insisted that Splitjaw needed to be fed. She had dug through her backpack and pulled out some beef jerky, which she opened and stuck in its jagged “mouth.” Pleased with herself, she’d shouldered her pack and continued with our trek.
Digging into one of the cargo pouches on my pants, I pulled out the strips of beef jerky I brought with me for this very moment. I unwrapped them and placed them into Splitjaw’s mouth. Pocketing the wrapper, I patted the tree and proceeded on my way. Tradition satisfied.
It was close to noon when I stepped out of the trees and into the clearing. Sunlight bathed the meadow. The tall, waving grasses forming a sea of green, almost like a calm lake. The lone Oregon white oak dominated the center of the clearing, a soldier standing guard over the meadow and its denizens. I had no idea how that acorn made it to this area, but I was happy that it had found a home here.
Its branches spread outward to provide shelter and shade to all those who gathered below them, perfect for the task I had given it.
I drew in a cleansing breath, shaking myself from my reverie, and continued walking until I stood under the oak’s branches. I unshouldered my backpack and set it down against the tree before letting one hand rest gently on its trunk.
“Sorry I’m late. I was finishing up some drywall in one of the upstairs bedrooms and lost track of time.”
I bent down, opened up the pack, and pulled out a collapsible rake. Unfolding it as Istood, I began clearing the detritus of small limbs and leaves from around the area.
“It took longer than I planned, but I got the flooring finished in the kitchen. I know we talked about that white checkered slate tile, but it was out of stock and the backorder was going to take too long. So, I ended up doing a grey, sixteen-inch tile that has four small black diamonds in the center. I think it looks fantastic against the backsplash.”
I continued my rundown of my construction highlights as I kept raking.
Satisfied that no limbs or leaves remained, I collapsed the rake, stowed it back in the pack, and pulled out a small set of shears. I squatted down on one knee and began trimming the grass around the two small bronze markers. I worked in thoughtful silence, letting the metallic snip-snip of the trimmers soothe my mind and heart as I cleared backthe grass and weeds that had grown since my last visit.
Once everything was pruned to my liking, I stowed the shears and retrieved a small rag and bottle of brass cleaner. Pouring a small bit of the solution onto my cloth, I began scrubbing the bird droppings off the markers.
With the bronze gleaming again, I stowed all of my tools and supplies and gazed down at the markers, telling myself I wouldn’t cry even as the first tear worked its way down my cheek. Every time I thought I had cried myself out, I found that with these two, I never would.
“I love you both,” I whispered, letting my fingers lightly brush the metal.
I stood up, grabbing my backpack and swinging it up and onto my back. I shrugged my shoulders a couple of times to seat the straps comfortably, then fastened the bellyband, tugging on it to make sure it was tight.
With a final, pained glance at the markers, I turned and headed east, passing quickly out of the meadow and into the trees beyond.
About B. D. Storey
Bob grew up in a pretty typical Southern household. An Army brat, he was born in Germany and spent his formative years moving around the country from post to post, never going to the same school twice until his father’s retirement.
A typical teenager of the 70’s, he spent hours playing baseball, tennis, band, and dumping hard earned quarters into his favorite arcade games.
He retired from the Air Force in 2000 and began working in the technology department of a local sheriff’s office, where he will soon retire.
A lover of both PC and console games, Bob has spent many hours immersed in the lands of role playing and make-believe with friends and family. This is where his love of writing took off as he and his online friends spent hours writing epic tales of fantasy, love, and adventuring. Oh, and dragon slaying. One can’t forget that.
He is married to his best friend and love of his life, Pam. They live on their small ranch/farm in Clarksville where Pam keeps him busy with the multitude of chores that come with having three horses and four cats. He has three great kids who are the lights of their life.
Some of his favorite romance authors are Nicholas Sparks, Abby Jimenez, Claire Kingsley, and Maria Luis
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