I loved this box set when I read it the first time. Six amazing stories sure to entertain and delight. There's a little something for everyone. But I'm so excited to have Viviana Mackade her to share what inspired All Those Miles I Walked.
Take it away Viv....
I owe Country music always, for every story I write and think, but for All Those Miles I Walked I owe Mr. Eric Church a little bit more. You know, the country singer? Yep, him.
Because Scott and DJ’s story started with an older song of him, Two Pink Lines.
I was listening to it and the last line of the song–when the girl grabs her coat and just leaves him –struck me and had my brain go.
Usually, when a pregnancy test is involved the boy runs. Not in this song. I mean, he wasn’t all that thrilled, but she was the one doing the leaving. That girl sparkled something. Who is she? What happened to her after that moment? And did she and the boy ever seen each other again?
Those were the seeds, and what came out of it it’s a story not only about the strength of love, but about staying true to yourself no matter how difficult. DJ can’t compromise with herself when she leaves. Years later, Scott can’t compromise on what to ask of her. And that’s the perfect ground for trouble. The results? Well, you can’t expect me to tell you that now, can you? You’ll have to read the story!
At eighteen, DJ made a choice–her heart or her dreams. Neither was wrong, yet either would break her heart. She chose the world. Over a decade later, she returns to Crescent Creek and to the one regret she's ever had–Scott.
Scott’s always been steady as a rocky reef. He’d loved once and when she’d left, his strong heart had crumbled like a sandcastle. Now DJ is back, and Scott wants nothing to do with her. If only Eva, his and DJ’s old friend, didn’t need their help. Because of her, he’s stuck with DJ and he’d be damned, she still gets under his skin.
DJ is a free spirit who needs the road under her feet. Scott is a family man who wants to groom his roots. With danger on their doorstep and a baby to keep safe, how much are they willing to compromise for love?
It was just a kiss, and didn’t mean any more than that. To give him closure, to confirm she wasn’t a big deal anymore.
He brushed her lips once. Then once more.
He’d feared he would be pulled up into a spiral and land somewhere in the past where textures, scents, sounds would hold him prisoner again, but nothing came out to hunt him. What he felt was very much new.
So, he grew bolder, exploring the mouth she offered with steady thoroughness, as if it was the first time in his life, as if he’d never kissed her before.
Scott felt her under his hands, heard her little moan and god, he wanted that woman.
Firmly, he backed her up to the kitchen counter, grabbed her by the waist and sat her on it. Her legs wrapped around his hips as she tried to get closer and closer, feeding his heat with her own. His hands roamed on her back, got lost in her hair. Nothing, no one, had ever tasted like she did right now. Not even his memory of her compared.
Maybe no one ever would. What a stupid idea. To prove to himself he could, he eased away. Harder than he’d thought, it took him a couple more tastes before he stepped back, but dry spells tended to do that to a man.
The girl that had shattered his world had no more chains on him, and their kiss was the proof he needed.
That he wanted to tear her tank top to pieces, get rid of her cut-offs jeans and push her on the couch, was merely a human reaction any man would have to any beautiful woman who’d kissed his brains out.
Lust. Nothing fanciful. Or dangerous.
He took a step back, his hands gripping firmly the edge of the table, and cleared his throat, trying to find words that wouldn’t make him look like a total moron.
Thank god, she beat him. “Nice way to congratulate me for the house.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You should probably go.”
“Listen, I’m sorry, I–”
“No, no,” she hurried to say it, putting a hand in front of herself to stop him. “See, the thing is, if you come any closer I’ll shred your t-shirt with my teeth before I push you onto the floor and have my way with you. I don’t think either of us is ready for it, so you should go.”
He swallowed, tried to regain access to his voice after her honesty had bashed his head in hard. So, so hard. “Okay.”
Lame, but what else could he say? Something even more lame, like, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded, and he stepped into the heavy air of the night. To go where? He was way too hung up for home, so he took his cell.
You home and up? he texted.
Yes, and yes.
Twenty minutes later, he parked at Rhett’s.
Musings from Michigan