#1 NY Times Bestselling Author Barbara
Freethy talks strong women, hot guys and family series… Check out what she has
to say then Read on for more information about this blog tour and all its great
prizes!
One of
my favorite quotes of all time is by Eleanor Roosevelt: "A woman is like a
tea bag. You don't know how strong she is until you put her in hot water."
This
quote perfectly describes the heroines in my new connected family series: The Callaways. I love to write about ordinary
women who get caught up in extraordinary adventures. My heroines don't always
know what they're made of until they're tested.
While we
sometimes associate strong female characters with over-the-top roles like
vampire slayer or some other kick-ass profession, I believe most women, even
the quiet ones, have a superhuman core of strength that enables them to change
the world they live in and also to change the men who love them. In my books,
the heroine's strength is enhanced, not only by a new and powerful romantic
relationship but also her personal journey to find herself.
In the
first book in the Callaway series, ON A NIGHT LIKE THIS, the heroine, Sara, has
grown up in a troubled family and is estranged from her father. She grew up
next door to the chaotic, fun-loving Callaway family and often envied the
relationships she saw on the other side of the fence. She also had a huge crush
on the second oldest male in the family, Aiden Callaway.
While
Sara was a studious, serious girl in high school, Aiden was the charming rebel.
As teenagers they were not ready for each other, but now they meet again as
adults and both are facing pivotal moments in their lives.
Aiden is
recovering from an injury he acquired as a smokejumper and grieving for the
loss of his best friend, who died during their last jump together. Sara has
come home to repair the relationship with her father, only to discover that
there are family secrets that will change everything she thought she knew about
her past and her parents.
Sara has
to find the strength within herself to risk her heart on a man who could quite
possibly break it, to face a terrible lie and to find a way to forgive her
father. Aiden also has to find a way to deal with the secret that took his
friend's life. Together these two characters find strength within themselves
and also draw strength from each other, which is, really, what love is all
about.
As a
reader, I love books that have layers: romance,
mystery, adventure and surprises. As a writer, I strive to bring those same
elements to all of my stories. My heroines have to be as strong as the heroes.
And I always hope that they inspire my readers in some way, too.
I grew
up reading books about strong female characters, and I know those reading
experiences helped shaped some of my own attitudes about the kind of woman I
wanted to be.
About The Callaways:
The Callaways were born to serve and protect! In Barbara’s new connected family series, each of the eight siblings in this blended Irish-American family find love, mystery and adventure, often where they least expect it! Each book stands alone, but for the full enjoyment of the series, you might want to start at the beginning with On A Night Like This! Get the eBooks via Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iBooks, or Kobo.
About the Author:
Barbara Freethy has been making up stories most of her life. Growing up in a neighborhood with only boys and a big brother who was usually trying to ditch her, she spent a lot of time reading. When she wasn’t reading, she was imagining her own books. After college and several years in the P.R. field, she decided to try her hand at a novel. Now Barbara is a #1 New York Times and USA Today bestselling author loved by readers all over the world. Her novels range from contemporary romance to romantic suspense and women's fiction.
Learn more on her website, Facebook page, or in her Street Team.
Check out this excerpt from #1
NY Times Bestselling Author Barbara Freethy's first book in the Callaway family
series…Then Read on for more information about this blog tour and all its great
prizes!
Her father stared back at her, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"Why are you here, Sara?"
"I wanted to be here for your birthday. It's
been a long time since we've shared more than an email. We should talk, catch
up with each other."
"Why on earth would you want to talk to
me?"
The confusion in his eyes made her realize just
how far apart they'd drifted. "Because you're my father. You're my family.
We're the only ones left."
"Do you need money?"
"This isn't about money. Mom would not have
wanted us to end up like strangers. We need to improve our relationship."
He stared back at her for a long moment, then
said, "There's nothing left for you here, Sara. I wish you well, but we
both need to move on. If you stay, it won't go well. We'll only disappoint each
other."
Her chest tightened, the finality of his words
bringing pain as well as anger. Her father was like a brick wall. She kept
throwing herself at him, trying to break through his resistance, but all she
ever achieved was a new batch of emotional bruises.
"You're a grown woman now," he added.
"You don't need a father."
"Not that I ever really had one," she
countered, surprising herself a little with the words. She was used to holding
her tongue when it came to her dad, because talking usually made things worse.
"I did my best."
"Did you?"
A tickle caught at her throat and her eyes blurred
with unwanted tears. She had not come here to cry. She sniffed, wondering why
the air felt so thick. It took a minute to register that it was not her
emotions that were making her eyes water, but smoke.
The same awareness flashed in her father's eyes.
"Damn," he swore. "The kitchen—I was cooking—"
He ran out of the room, and she followed him down
the stairs, shocked by how thick the smoke was in the entry.
She was on her dad's heels when he entered the
kitchen. The scene was unbelievable. Flames shot two feet in the air off a
sizzling pot on the stove. The fire had found more fuel in a stack of
newspapers on the counter that had been left too close to the burner, those
sparks leaping to the nearby curtains.
Her father grabbed a towel and tried to beat out
some of the flames, but his efforts only seemed to make things worse. Embers
flew everywhere, finding new places to burn, the heat growing more and more
intense. Moving to the sink, she turned on the faucet and filled up a pitcher,
but it was taking too long to get enough water. She threw some of it at the
fire, but it made no difference.
"Move aside," her dad shouted, grabbing
two hot pads.
"What are you doing?" she asked in
confusion.
He tried to grab the pot and move it to the sink,
but she was in the way, and he stumbled, dropping the pot in the garbage. She
jumped back from an explosion of new fire.
"We have to call 911," she said
frantically. But there was no phone in the kitchen, and her cell phone was in
her bag by the entry. "Let's get out of here."
Her father was still trying to put out the fire,
but he was getting nowhere.
"Dad, please."
"Get out, Sara," he said forcefully,
then ran into the adjacent laundry room.
"Wait! Where are you going?"
"I have to get something important," he
yelled back at her.
"Dad. We need to get out of the house."
She coughed out the words, but she might as well have remained silent because
her dad had vanished through the laundry room and down the back stairs to the
basement. She couldn't imagine what he had to get. There was nothing but
gardening tools and cleaning supplies down there.
She started to follow him, then jumped back as the
fire caught the wallpaper next to her head, sizzling and leaping towards her
clothing.
"Dad," she screamed. "We need to
get out of the house."
A crash echoed through the house. Then all she
could hear was the crackling of the fire.
Sara ran through the flames and down the stairs
into the basement. A single light bulb dangled from a wire over the stairs,
showing her father in a crumpled heap on the cement floor.
She dropped to her knees next to his still body.
He was unconscious, blood under his head, and his right leg was twisted in an
odd position. She put a hand on his chest. His heart was still beating.
"Dad," she said. "Wake up."
He blinked groggily. "Sara?" he asked in
confusion. "What are you doing here?"
"The kitchen is on fire. We need to get out
of the house." A glance back over her shoulder revealed smoke pouring
through the open door at the top of the stairs. There was no way out of the
basement without going through the kitchen.
Her father tried to sit up, but quickly fell back,
groaning with pain. "My leg is broken. You go."
"I can't leave you here. That's not an
option."
"You can't carry me. Go. Get help."
"I'll be right back," she promised.
She ran up
the stairs, shocked and terrified when she saw how much worse the fire had
gotten in literally minutes. The heat was intense. She could barely breathe,
and there was a wall of flames between her and the only way out. She couldn't
afford to be scared. Grabbing a towel off the top of the nearby washing
machine, she covered her nose and mouth, and prepared to make a dash for it.
Before she could move, a figure appeared on the
other side of the flames—a man.
A wave of relief swept through her. Help had
arrived.
He barreled through the fire and smoke, batting
away the flames as if they were troublesome bees. When he stopped in front of
her, her heart jumped again.
"Aiden?" She lowered the towel from her
face. He was the last Callaway she wanted to see.
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