Month of Love: Heartbeat of the Moon

For February, the Pen Dames are each taking a week to highlight one of our books. Of course, the theme this month is Love.

Heartbeat of the Moon is Book #2 in my Rhythm of the Moon series. It's a historical romance that features a midwife and a musician and apothecary who suffers from bipolar disorder. 

What does love mean to me? Love is about accepting each other's flaws and weaknesses. My stories reflect that even those of us who aren't "perfect" deserve a chance at love. We all have our struggles; we all make mistakes. Love is forgiving. And sometimes love requires strength and mercy. The following excerpt reflects my two main characters, Maggie and Ian, as they work toward understanding each other's complexities. After a long trip, Ian had returned with a precious book by the great Greek doctor and philosopher Galen. He is very excited.

     She could not help but be wrapped up in his enthusiasm. "How interesting. I will look forward to reading it, when I am not so busy."

     He cocked his head. "I will read it to you later."

     She scowled. "Read it to me? Am I a child of five? You know I can read, well or better than you." The old woman who had schooled her in midwifery had also taught her to read. "Do you think I am not intelligent enough to understand it?"

     He grinned, tapping his fingers on the counter.

     Aggravation prickled her skin like stinging nettles.

     His eyes followed the blush burning from her cheeks to her bosom. He stepped back in mock alarm, and she gave in to her rage. Insufferable man!

     "Do you think you are far smarter than I? Do you think because you have traveled to the ends of the earth, seeing more in one trip than I have seen in my life, you can lord it over me?"

     His lips quivered. God help him if he smiled. He reached out his hand, and she backed away.

     "I will not be patronized like a child. Read it to me?"

     He grasped her hands and brought them to his lips, despite her struggle. "Maggie."

     Did he think her nothing but a lowly midwife from London's slums? What kind of rare women did he meet, traveling so far away from her, for him to think of her in such a way?

     "Maggie."

     His voice caressed her inside with long, slow strokes. His lips lingered enticingly near, firm, long, and tilting at the corners. He had a small nick on his chin from shaving. 

     "What?" God curse her, she squeaked.

     "It is written in Greek."

                                                                      ****

Love endures, through setbacks and misunderstandings, and requires humor, kindness, and self-love to survive. 

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.