Cindy Ervin Huff has come to share a little with us today about her latest novel! She's a fabulous Clean Reads author and I thought my readers would enjoy hearing about this new release and Cindy's 'why' behind her writing:
I have been haunted by the idea for my Contemporary Romance for a while. As a write I see stories all around me. Some ideas flit about in my mind and fade to nothingness, but New Duet rooted itself in my authors’ heart.
The idea of a romance between two wounded people intrigued me. The “what if” moment that was the foundation for the story happened a few years prior to writing the book. I was part of a worship team. My author’s mind went a wandering as I look at our group. The vision for the first chapter began to take shape. It was based on an actual experience many years prior. A missionary was at an elder’s meeting and dropped dead from an aneurysm. It shook the church. He knew he had it and it was a matter of time before it took his life.
What if in my story it was the worship leader who died during the service. And what if his wife was on the team and didn’t know he had an aneurysm. What if she was abused. That’s when Isabella Wilson introduced herself to me. An artist shoved into a mold of her late husband’s making. She travels to Aurora, Illinois to live with her sister and find herself.
Then ‘what if' her love interest is a disabled soldier. Wounded Warrior Dan Sweeney is not the hunky guy you often meet between the pages of a romance. But he is sweet and caring and suffers from PTSD. Dan has a prosthetic and struggles to be a whole man. Add a service dog and life is interesting for him. Both Isabella and Dan are on a journey to find themselves. Isabella searches for her artist muse and Dan must make peace with his new normal.
This is a character-driven story. The plot is the thread the characters evolve on. They are like caterpillars changing into butterflies by the end of their respective journeys.
Cindy Ervin Huff is an award-winning author who writes historical and contemporary romance. She serves as a mentor for Word Weavers International and is the founding member and past president of Word Weavers Aurora, Illinois. Helping fledgling writers improve their craft is important to her. Jubilee Writer, her biweekly blog shares writing tips and gives new authors a platform to be spotlighted. Cindy is also a member of ACFW and alumni of the Christian Writers Guild.
Facebook Author Page: https ://www.facebook.com/author.huff11/
Amazon Author page: https://www.amazon.com/author/cindyervin
Twitter: https:// twitter.com/CindyErvinHuff
Isabella Melinda Wilson has been squeezed into the music ministry model of her controlling husband’s making. Before she can leave him, he leaves her a guilt-ridden widow. Her mother-in-law is no comfort and presses the guilt button at every turn. Isabella flees to her sister’s home in search of her own identity and a new beginning.
Dan Sweeney has one goal. Be as normal as possible. After losing a leg, some fingers and his self-worth, he needs his service dog Brutus to help keep his PTSD at bay. Career-less and clueless about the future, he struggles to put his life back together.
Isabella isn’t looking for a new relationship and Dan feels unworthy of one. Can these two broken people heal into one whole love?
An excerpt for your entertainment:
She reached the driver’s side door of the red Dodge Durango
first. Ron closed the gap between. His breath brushed across the
top of her head, “I’m driving.”
She faced him feeling for the handle and pulling the door
Anger flashed in his dark brown eyes. Melinda stood her
“You have one of your migraines. I’ll drive.” She climbed in
before he could grab her arm.
“Fine.” Ron moved to the passenger’s side, slammed the
door, and leaned back on the gray leather headrest. “It’s so bright.”
His forearm covered his face.
“Here’s your sunglasses.” Melinda took them from the visor
before gazing into the rearview mirror. The gravel driveway
flowed beneath the tires. Her chest tightened and her hand shook
as the gears shifted into drive.
Ron adjusted the sunglasses. “Can you drive a little faster?”
“No.” A tremble escaped her lips. White knuckles gripped
the steering wheel. Fear wrestled her confident tone. “We’ve got
“You’d better be right.” Ron massaged his temples with his
index fingers. “If we’re late, it’s all on you.”
Everything always seemed on her lately. Always her fault,
always her problem. Blame had been the morning focus.
“What’d you do with my socks?”
“Why haven’t you folded the laundry?”
“Did you break the iron? I wouldn’t hand off this shirt to the
“You forgot to charge my phone again.”
His harsh words produced her own headache which found
solace in a bottle of pain reliever.
The silent treatment was a welcome change. Sweet worship
music streamed into the car comforting her soul, relaxing her
thoughts. Peace flowed from the melody. She turned the wheel and
panic assailed her. Her wrist was bare. I left my witnessing bracelet on
the bathroom sink. The colorful beads used to share the gospel. Oh,
how she hated it. He gets so mad when I forget it. Please, please don’t
notice. Another reminder of her failure in the ministry.
“Turn off the radio. The music’s killing my head.”
“Maybe we should return home and you can rest.”
Ron raised his head, lifted his sunglasses, and glared. “And
give you another excuse. Six Sundays, Melinda, six times sitting in
the pews and not helping with worship. Well, my migraine will not
be your seventh excuse.”
Melinda’s knuckles ached on the steering wheel. Tight lips
held back tears. Arriving at church in the middle of an argument
would make things worse later. God forbid anyone would see them
arguing. That would be my fault too. She hated being in ministry, on
the worship team, and under a magnifying glass in this
congregation. If I don’t get away soon, I’ll go insane. God forgive me.
Ron made no mention of the headache once they arrived at
the church. His spotless dress shirt and neat pressed Dockers (no
thanks to her imperfect ironing ability) added to his confident air.
His look had changed over the past few years from casual jeans and
collar-length hair to short, moussed hair and black dress shoes.
Ron wanted her to get a makeover. The CD sales had
switched her husband’s focus. When they first married, Ron asked her to grow her hair out. “Sweetheart, the Scripture says long hair
is a woman’s glory.” Now a file folder of acceptable hairstyles
created by the church secretary lay in the bottom of her underwear
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