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Navy Wife by Debbie Macomber
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(Mass Market Paperback)
- Pub. Date: January 2003
- 256pp
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Product Details
- Pub. Date: January 2003
- Publisher: Silhouette
- Format: Mass Market Paperback, 256pp
- Series: Navy Series
- ISBN-13: 9780373218448
- ISBN: 0373218443
Synopsis
Falling for a man in uniform can be hard . . .
New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber weaves emotional tales of love and longing. Here is the first of her celebrated NAVY series!
Impulsive, wounded, vulnerable, Lindy Kyle was unprepared for a roommate like Rush Callaghan. Strong, sensitive and sexy, the temporarily dry-docked naval officer was everything she'd ever dreamed of in a man . . . in a husband.
But Rush placed duty to his country above all else. Though he and Lindy were swept away on a tide of passion, he was called back to sea. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder — but will their marriage survive their partings?
Romantic Times
Ms. Macomber is skilled at creating characters who work their way into readers' hearts.
More Reviews and RecommendationsBiography
When Debbie Macomber started out, she was a young, dyslexic mother of four who wrote in her kitchen on a rented typewriter. Years later, she's the blockbuster bestselling author of dozens of heartwarming novels that celebrate love, laughter, and the bonds of family and friendship.
More About the AuthorCustomer Reviews
Navy Wifeby Anonymous
Reader Rating:
See Detailed Ratings
May 07, 2003: As a military wife, I can understand what it takes to be able to live alone for long periods of time, raise a family and not knowing what is happening with your spouse. I look forward to reading others.
Navy Wifeby Anonymous
Reader Rating:
See Detailed Ratings
March 31, 2003: This is the best book. It warms your heart with the tenderness and its sooo sweet! A TRULY GREAT READ!
Fact File
Name:
Debbie Macomber
Current Home:
Port Orchard, Washington
Date of Birth:
October 22, 1948
Place of Birth:
Yakima, Washington
Education:
Graduated from high school in 1966; attended community college
Biography
Publishing did not come easy to self-described "creative speller" Debbie Macomber. When Macomber decided to follow her dreams of becoming a bestselling novelist, she had a lot of obstacles in her path. For starters, Macomber is dyslexic. On top of this, she had only a high school degree, four young children at home, and absolutely no connections in the publishing world. If there's one thing you can say about Debbie Macomber, however, it is that she does not give up. She rented a typewriter and started writing, determined to break into the world of romance fiction.
The years went on and the rejection letters piled up. Her family was living on a shoestring budget, and Debbie was beginning to think that her dreams of being a novelist might never be fulfilled. She began writing for magazines to earn some extra money, and she eventually saved up enough to attend a romance writer's conference with three hundred other aspiring novelists. The organizers of the conference picked ten manuscripts to review in a group critique session. Debbie was thrilled to learn that her manuscript would be one of the novels discussed.
Her excitement quickly faded when an editor from Harlequin tore her manuscript to pieces in front of the crowded room, evoking peals of laughter from the assembled writers. Afterwards, Macomber approached the editor and asked her what she could do to improve her novel. "Throw it away," the editor suggested.
Many writers would have given up right then and there, but not Macomber. The deeply religious Macomber took a lesson from Job and gathered strength from adversity. She returned home and mailed one last manuscript to Silhouette, a publisher of romance novels. "It cost $10 to mail it off," Macomber told the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel in 2000. "My husband was out of work at this time, in Alaska, trying to find a job. The children and I were living on his $250-a-week unemployment, and I can't tell you what $10 was to us at that time."
It turned out to be the best $10 Macomber ever spent. In 1984, Silhouette published her novel, Heartsong. (Incidentally, although Heartsong was Macomber's first sale, she actually published another book, Starlight, before Heartsong went to print.) Heartsong went on to become the first romance novel to ever be reviewed in Publishers Weekly, and Macomber was finally on her way.
Today, Macomber is one of the most widely read authors in America. A regular on the New York Times bestseller charts, she is best known for her Cedar Cove novels, a heartwarming story sequence set in a small town in Washington state, and for her Knitting Books series, featuring a group of women who patronize a Seattle yarn store. In addition, her backlist of early romances, including several contemporary Westerns, has been reissued with great success.
Macomber has made a successful transition from conventional romance to the somewhat more flexible genre known as "women's fiction." "I was at a point in my life where I found it difficult to identify with a 25-year-old heroine," Macomber said in an interview with ContemporaryRomanceWriters.com. "I found that I wanted to write more about the friendships women share with each other." To judge from her avid, ever-increasing fan base, Debbie's readers heartily approve.
Good to Know
Some outtakes from our interview with Macomber:
"I'm dyslexic, although they didn't have a word for it when I was in grade school. The teachers said I had 'word blindness.' I've always been a creative speller and never achieved good grades in school. I graduated from high school but didn't have the opportunity to attend college, so I did what young women my age did at the time -- I married. I was a teenager, and Wayne and I (now married nearly 37 years) had four children in five years."
"I'm a yarnaholic. That means I have more yarn stashed away than any one person could possibly use in three or four lifetimes. There's something inspiring about yarn that makes me feel I could never have enough. Often I'll go into my yarn room (yes, room!) and just hold skeins of yarn and dream about projects. It's a comforting thing to do."
"My office walls are covered with autographs of famous writers -- it's what my children call my ‘dead author wall.' I have signatures from Mark Twain, Earnest Hemingway, Jack London, Harriett Beecher Stowe, Pearl Buck, Charles Dickens, Rudyard Kipling, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, to name a few."
"I'm morning person, and rip into the day with a half-mile swim (FYI: a half mile is a whole lot farther in the water than it is on land) at the local pool before I head into the office, arriving before eight. It takes me until nine or ten to read through all of the guest book entries from my web site and the mail before I go upstairs to the turret where I do my writing. Yes, I write in a turret -- is that romantic, or what? I started blogging last September and really enjoy sharing bits and pieces of my life with my readers. Once I'm home for the day, I cook dinner, trying out new recipes. Along with cooking, I also enjoy eating, especially when the meal is accompanied by a glass of good wine. Wayne and I take particular pleasure in sampling eastern Washington State wines (since we were both born and raised in that part of the state).
Feature Interview
In the spring of 2005, Debbie Macomber took some time out to answer our questions. What was the book that most influenced your life or your career as a writer?
The one book that has had the strongest influence on my life, without question, is the Bible. God's Word has been the guiding force behind all I do. I read the Bible each and every day and gain inspiration, encouragement, and joy.
What are your ten favorite books, and what makes them special to you?
Before I answer this, I feel it's necessary to mention that I read widely, across the board. In compiling this list I discovered several of my favorite books are nonfiction. I have not noted the Bible a second time, although as I indicated above, it is the most influential book in my life.
What are some of your favorite films, and what makes them unforgettable to you?
I'm a big film buff, although I'm not fond of movies with excessive violence. I've always enjoyed musicals. My first exposure was with West Side Story. I memorized all the songs and belted them out for months afterward. I almost entered the convent after watching The Sound of Music. Thankfully, I didn't; it wouldn't have been a good fit for either of us. In recent years I've enjoyed The Princess Bride and the Star Wars series. I like movies with what I call a zinger -- Collateral and The Replacement Killers are good examples. And comedies, too. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard as when I watched The Gods Must Be Crazy, It's a Mad, Mad, Mad World, and The Hallelujah Trail.
What types of music do you like? Is there any particular kind you like to listen to when you're writing?
I don't listen to music while writing. It's not that I need silence in order to create. I started out writing when our four children were small and I needed to keep my ears tuned to them in case one of them decided to play Superman and fly out a window or start a campfire in the middle of the living room. When it comes to listening to the radio, I prefer the oldies stations. When I'm on the treadmill, I play Christian CDs and make a joyful noise. Correction: It's a joyful noise to me, but I doubt others would think so.
What are your favorite kinds of books to give -- and get -- as gifts?
There's a bookstore directly below my office. It's hard to believe but I write above a bookstore and an ice cream parlor. This, my friends, is a writer's nirvana. On average I buy a book a day, and that's no exaggeration. Mostly I purchase nonfiction for gifts. One of my favorites is Gifts from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindberg. For my writer friends I've bought Goals by Brian Tracy, and for friends who are animal lovers I've bought The Dog Who Rescues Cats by Gonzalez & Fleischer.
Do you have any special writing rituals? For example, what do you have on your desk when you're writing?
I have a cherrywood desk with a glass top to protect the wood. Over the years a number of things have made their way under the glass. There's a picture of my dad and his brother, who looked so much alike that they were often mistaken for identical twins -- only my dad was a full foot shorter than his brother. Then there are pictures of my grandchildren (by far the cutest grandkids in the universe), and there's a slip of paper on which I've written four words. They are: "provocative," "relevant," "creative," and "honest." When I decide on a plot for one of my big hardcover stories, I weigh the story against each of these words. I want to provoke my readers to think. I want the story to be relevant to them and to our times. My goal is to tell this story in as creative a way as possible and to be honest with my readers and with myself. As you might have guessed, I'm a lover of words. As for rituals, I really don't have any.
Many writers are hardly "overnight success" stories. How long did it take for you to get where you are today? Any rejection-slip horror stories or inspirational anecdotes?
In my humble opinion, there are a lot of writers out there who haven't suffered enough. I suffered plenty. When I first started writing, I didn't know another writer in the world. This was back in the late 1970s before Romance Writers of America was formed. For nearly five years I wrote and submitted my manuscripts. My work was rejected so fast it practically hit me in the back of the head on my way home from the post office. At one point in my lonely sojourn, an editor read and reviewed my manuscript, and with the utmost sincerity told me there was no use in revising it and the best thing I could do was throw it away. Thankfully, I didn't take her advice, because that same manuscript sold to a rival publishing house and launched my writing career.
What tips or advice do you have for writers still looking to be discovered?
I would suggest that writers pay close attention to the market -- read the bestsellers, analyze each story and look for the key element that is drawing an audience. Who would ever have imagined that Life of Pi by Yann Martel would command the audience it has? Or The Da Vinci Code? As writers, it's important we not follow trends but observe and understand life -- and start our own. It was when I saw a lot of angel figurines turning up in catalogs that I wrote the first Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy Christmas book.
From the Publisher
Falling for a man in uniform can be hard . . .
New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber weaves emotional tales of love and longing. Here is the first of her celebrated NAVY series!
Impulsive, wounded, vulnerable, Lindy Kyle was unprepared for a roommate like Rush Callaghan. Strong, sensitive and sexy, the temporarily dry-docked naval officer was everything she'd ever dreamed of in a man . . . in a husband.
But Rush placed duty to his country above all else. Though he and Lindy were swept away on a tide of passion, he was called back to sea. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder — but will their marriage survive their partings?
Romantic Times
Ms. Macomber is skilled at creating characters who work their way into readers' hearts.
Loading...Product Details
- Pub. Date: January 2003
- Publisher: Silhouette
- Format: Mass Market Paperback, 256pp
- Series: Navy Series
- ISBN-13: 9780373218448
- ISBN: 0373218443
Read a Sample Chapter
Navy Wife
By Debbie Macomber
Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.
Copyright © 2003 Debbie MacomberAll right reserved.
ISBN: 0373218443
Chapter One
After walking over to the window in her brother's empty apartment, Lindy Kyle paused and let her tired gaze rest on the view of downtown Seattle. Dusk was settling over the steel jungle, and giant shadows from the skyscrapers fell into the maze of concrete across the picturesque waterfront. In another mood Lindy would have been struck by the intricate beauty of what lay before her, but not now.Seattle, as Steve had claimed, really was a lovely city. When she'd arrived, she'd been so preoccupied with trying to find the address of the apartment and the appropriate parking space for her Volkswagen Rabbit in the lot behind the building that she hadn't taken the time to notice anything around her.
Now she sighed at the panorama that lay before her. "I'm actually here," she said, mainly to hear herself speak. She'd come to expect a lot from one western city. She felt as an immigrant might have years ago, sailing into New York Harbor, seeking a new way of life and freedom from the shackles of the past. Lindy had been bound, too, in the chains of grief and unhappiness.
Dramatically she posed, pretending to be the Statue of Liberty, her right hand held high as if gripping a lighted torch, her left firmly clasping imaginary stone tablets. "Okay, Seattle, give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free." Lindy sucked in a shaky breath and battled back tears. "Seattle, calm my fears. Clear my head." She dropped her arms and swallowed at the growing knot in her throat. "Heal my heart," she added in a broken whisper. "Please, heal my heart...."
Exhaling raggedly, she dropped her arm and admitted it was too much to expect - even from a place that had once been honored as the most livable city in the United States. Far too much to ask.
Suddenly exhausted, Lindy picked up her suitcase and headed down the narrow hallway toward the two bedrooms. She opened the first door and stood in the doorway examining the room. The closet, which was partly open, displayed an organized row of civilian clothes hanging inside, crisp and neat. A framed picture or two rested on the dresser, but Lindy didn't pay attention to those. This had to be the bedroom of Rush Callaghan, her brother's roommate. Currently both men were at sea serving six-month tours of duty. Steve was an officer aboard the submarine Atlantis, somewhere in the Pacific upholding God, country and the American flag. Lindy had no idea where Rush was and didn't particularly care. Men weren't exactly her favorite subject at the moment.
She closed the bedroom door and moved on to the next room. A dresser drawer hung open, mismatched socks draped over its edge. Bulky-knit sweaters were carelessly tossed on the ledge above the closet and shoes were heaped in a pile on the floor.
"Home, sweet home," Lindy said with a soft smile. She really was fond of her brother, and although he was nearly ten years older, her childhood had been marked with memories of his wit and warmth. She laid her suitcase across the unmade bed, opened it and reached for Steve's letter. "Come to Seattle," he'd written in his lazy, uneven scrawl.
"Forget the past and make a new life for yourself." Steve had had firsthand experience with pain, Lindy knew, and she respected his judgment. He'd survived the emotional trauma of divorce and seemed to have come out of it with a new maturity.
"You'll know which bedroom is mine," Steve's letter continued. "I can't remember the last time I changed the sheets so you might want to do that before you crash."
Crashing certainly sounded inviting, Lindy mused, sinking with a sigh onto the edge of the unmade bed.
Although she'd nearly memorized Steve's words, Lindy read completely through the letter once more. Clean sheets were in the hall closet, he explained, and she decided to tackle making the bed as soon as she'd unpacked her things. The washer and dryer were in a small laundry room off the kitchen, the letter went on to say.
When she finished reading, Lindy placed Steve's instructions on top of the dresser. She stripped off the sheets, carried the bedding into the laundry room and started the washing machine.
When the phone rang it caught her off guard, and she widened her eyes and placed her hand over her heart as shock waves washed over her.
It rang one more time before she decided to answer it.
"Hello?"
"Lindy, it's your mother."
"Oh, hi, Mom." Lindy smiled at her parents' habit of identifying themselves. She'd been able to recognize her own family's voices since she was a child.
"I take it you've arrived safely. Honey, you should have phoned - your father and I've been worried."
Lindy sighed. "Mom, I just walked in the door not more than ten minutes ago. I was planning to phone after I fixed myself something to eat."
"Did your car give you any problems?"
"None."
"Good." Her mother sounded relieved.
"Everything's fine - just the way I said it would be," Lindy added.
"What about money?"
"Mom, I'm doing great." A slight exaggeration, but Lindy wasn't desperate - at least she wouldn't be if she found a job reasonably soon. The unemployment problem was one she hoped to correct first thing in the morning.
"I talked to your Uncle Henry in Kansas City and he said you should think about applying at Boeing ... that airplane company. He claims they're always looking for someone with a degree in computer science."
"I'll do that right away," Lindy answered in an effort to appease her mother.
"You'll let us know when you've found something?"
"Yes, Mom. I promise."
"And don't be shy about asking for money. Your father and I -"
"Mom, please don't worry about me. I'm going to be just great."
Her mother expelled her breath in a long, anxious sigh. "I do worry about you, sweetie. You've been so terribly unhappy. I can't tell you how disappointed your father and I are in that young man of yours."
"Paul isn't mine anymore." Lindy's voice trembled a little, but she needed to say it out loud every now and then just to remind herself of the fact. For four years she'd linked all thoughts of her future with Paul; being without him felt as though a large part of herself was missing.
"I saw his mother the other day, and I'll have you know I took a great deal of pleasure in looking the other way," Grace Kyle continued, with more than a hint of righteous indignation.
"What happened between Paul and me isn't Mrs. Abram's fault."
"No. But she obviously didn't raise her son right - not if he could do something this underhanded and despicable to you."
"Mom, do you mind if we don't talk about Paul anymore? Ever?" Even the mention of his name brought with it a sharp pain, yet part of her was still hungering for news of him. Someday, Lindy vowed, she'd look back on these awful months and smile at the memory. Someday, maybe. But not now.
"Lindy, of course I won't talk about Paul if you don't want me to. I was being insensitive - forgive me, sweetie."
"It's all right, Mom." (Continues...)
Excerpted from Navy Wife by Debbie Macomber Copyright © 2003 by Debbie Macomber
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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