How to leave the nest without alarming the Mama Bird:
Parental Perception: You’re still their little girl, going off to face a big bad world—alone.
Reality: You’re thirty-two, single and haven’t sucked your thumb in years.
Tip: Make your parents proud. Take your ragged teddy bear with you.
Parental Perception: You’ll starve to death before week’s end.
Reality: You have enough chocolate to start your own candy shop.
Tip: Accept the groceries they pack for you. It’s just better that way.
Parental Perception: You’ll have no one to contact in case of emergency.
Reality: You haven’t been to the doctor since your school shots.
Tip: Promise you’ll wear a medical ID bracelet.
Parental Perception: You’ll become a hermit. Thus, no grandchildren.
Reality: Guys aren’t exactly knocking down your door.
Tip: Assure parents that at the first sign of Hunky Boy, you’ll schedule the church.
DIANN WALKER
and her husband, Jim, started on a three-mile trek through Amish country in 1997, and at that moment, she had no idea she was taking her first steps toward a new career. Inspired by their walk, she wrote an article, which was published a year later. Other articles soon followed. After studying fiction writing, she celebrated her first novella sale in 2001, with CBA bestselling novellas and novels, written as Diann Hunt, reaching the bookshelves soon afterward. Wanting to be used by God in the ministry of writing, Diann left her job as a court reporter in the fall of 2003 and now devotes her time to writing. Well, writing and spoiling her four granddaughters. She has been happily married forever and loves her family, chocolate, her friends, chocolate, her dog and, well, chocolate. Be sure to check out her Web site at www.diannhunt.com. Sign her guestbook and drop her an e-mail. And, hey, if you have any chocolate…
Blissfully Yours
Diann Walker
Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will
give you the desires of your heart.
—Psalms 37:4
Special thanks to:
My fabulous editor, Krista Stroever, for the challenges and encouragement along the way. Your response time is amazing and your comments are always helpful. I am blessed to work with you.
My writing buddies, aka coffeehouse friends, Colleen Coble, Kristin Billerbeck and Denise Hunter. I value your advice, and above all, your friendship.
Jim, I am forever Blissfully Yours.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
“Come on, Gwen, what better way to start off the New Year? This is a perfect job for you!” Candace Windsor says with more enthusiasm than I’m feeling. She tucks a strand of long blond hair behind her ear and smiles.
Lauren Cantrell sits beside Candace, nodding and stirring her coffee. “It would be so much fun to have you living in Bliss Village, Gwen. We could go shopping together, out for coffee—it would be great.”
“And with me living in Nevada and both of you here, the three of us could get together more often than once a year,” Candace adds.
Sitting near the fireplace, I feel warm and toasty, despite the fact I see snowflakes falling outside the window. Pine logs perfume the air, an aroma with which I’ve become familiar in my annual treks to California’s Bliss Village. The three of us have been meeting in this town every year since college graduation. Now that Lauren and Garrett Cantrell are married, we meet here at their bed-and-breakfast. This year I took some extra time off before Christmas break so I could be with them and still make it home in time for Christmas Day.
The whole idea makes my dizzy. I mean, I’m all for adventure and fun, but leave Tumbleweed, Arizona? My home for almost thirty-two years?
“Besides, with your parents traveling six months out of the year, you’ll be bored stiff if you stay at home by yourself,” Candace continues.
I hadn’t seen that one coming. She’s got a point. My parents retired at the end of the last school year and purchased a motor home in the fall, but I never dreamed they would use it for anything other than occasional vacations. Since I’ve dated most of the eligible bachelors in Tumbleweed, my parents have given up hope of ever having grandkids to bounce on their knees. By the time I get married, my parents will have knee replacements.
How many times has Mom reminded me that my biological clock is ticking and time is running out? As much as that comment annoys me, the thought of not hearing it for the next six months makes me sad. Before my mood dives south, though, I look up to see my two best friends staring at me with hopeful eyes.
I can do this, can’t I? I mean, so what if I have to leave my familiar surroundings; life is all about stretching and growing, right? The twinge of excitement sparks and soon the thrill of a new experience sends a rush of adrenaline through my veins. “I have to admit the idea appeals to me.” I think for a moment. “But what about my teaching position in Tumbleweed?”
Candace waves her hand in the air. “Arizona’s educational system can do without you for a semester. Take a sabbatical. Didn’t you say you went into teaching to please your parents? It’s time to find out what Gwen wants for her life.”
I will miss my church friends, but most of them are married, so it’s not as though they need me. And Candace has given me something to think about. I don’t really know what I want to do with my life. This seems the perfect opportunity to find out. Okay, I’m getting excited here. “This is all so—so—”
“Perfect?” Candace grins again. “Gwen, you know you are a party waiting to happen.”
I feel a smidgen of pride with her comment. I’ve always enjoyed it that people think that about me.
“You love adventure, challenges. What’s that you always say—”
“You can do anything you set your mind to, if you want it badly enough,” Lauren says.
“That’s it,” Candace shouts, with a snap of her fingers.
I reach a hand up to fidget with my hoop earring, causing my colored bracelets to clink against one another. “I imagine your brother will have something to say about this,” I point out. “After all, this is his ski resort.”