Jennifer Millikin's Blog

Surprise! I wrote a little something extra for Aubrey, Isaac, and Claire! I was really missing them one day, and I was like, 'oh wait, I can revisit them anytime'. That's exactly what I did. I hope you enjoy dipping into their lives!

https://www.jennifermillikinwrites.co...

Our Finest Hour is a closed-door romance, which I explain in a little more detail in a previous post.

But it doesn't have to be! That's the beauty of writing. If I want to open the door for a peek into Aubrey and Isaac's one-night stand, I CAN. And that's exactly what I did!

This scene is written from Isaac's point of view, and I loved being back in his mind. Especially as he's experiencing Aubrey in such a way.

Click this link to read: https://www.jennifermillikinwrites.co...

Dear Reader,

You may wonder why I ended Aubrey's journey in such a way. If that's not you, if you're like HEY I GET IT, skip to the end of this letter for a fun surprise. If you want explanation and backstory, please continue reading.

In short, I am Aubrey. The story of Aubrey and Jane is fictional, but I based it on my own relationship with my mother and the feelings that went alongside it.

When I wrote Our Finest Hour in 2016, I hadn't had contact with my mom in years. I had two young children by then, and I wrote this book, and I thought to myself, If I saw my mom out somewhere in the world, and she was happy, would I confront her? I answered myself with a 'no'. There was a part of me, just like there was in Aubrey, that would rather not disrupt my mom's peace just to have my say. Maybe it was because I was a new mother myself, and the oxytocin was flowing. Or maybe I knew there are some steps you take you cannot reverse. If Aubrey had confronted her mother, Jane, in the church parking lot, what would happen after? The story would've become about Aubrey and her mother navigating a new journey, and less about Aubrey's personal growth as she falls in love with Isaac. I decided I wanted Our Finest Hour to focus on Aubrey and Isaac, and so I chose to have Aubrey let go of the pain she clung to so desperately.

A few years after this book's publication, my mom reached out to me. We've begun tentatively building a relationship. I can say with utmost honesty, getting to know her now and all that it entails is more painful than not knowing her. In hindsight, perhaps I was saving Aubrey. I could borrow from my experience the past few years and write an entire book based solely on the reunion of Aubrey and Jane. As of right now, I don’t have plans to do that, but Jane is a tertiary character in an upcoming novel that is to-be-announced. And yes, readers will learn why she left.

Now, to address my choice to have this be a closed-door romance. When I wrote this novel, I wasn't at a place in my writing journey where I felt comfortable penning on-page intimacy. I have developed personally and professionally, and I now open the door during intimate scenes. I consider the characters, and what they would want. I write from my heart, and my aim is for the scene to feel realistic and genuine for those specific characters. All that to say, I have written an additional scene with on-page intimacy that takes place the night Aubrey and Isaac have their one-night stand. It is from Isaac’s point of view, because I honestly don’t believe Aubrey would love people being privy to her innermost thoughts in that circumstance. Being back in Isaac’s head and heart was incredible, especially during this moment in time for them (they have no clue what's to come!). Isaac is his tender, kind self, but with an edge that didn’t make it into the novel. I hope you enjoy the scene.


Thanks for reading!
Xoxo,
Jen

In honor of Feb. 14th and the fact I'm publishing my 14th novel on March 2nd, I'm hosting a HUGE giveaway over on the 'gram! Each day is a new signed paperback, along with little items that correspond to the book and/or character! I had so much fun going back through the books and picking out the parts of these characters that make them come to life (like Tenley's peach rings, and Isaac's ice cream addiction).

Go to https://www.instagram.com/jenmillwrites/ and you can get entry details!

Believe me when I say I'm stunned every time I think about this news! Months of sitting on this secret just about did me in, and I'm thrilled to be able to share it with you now! Our Finest Hour has been optioned for TV/Film- so, what does that mean, exactly? It's similar to reserving a table at a restaurant. Nobody else can come in and sit there. In this instance, Untitled Entertainment has "reserved" the TV/Film rights to Our Finest Hour while a screenwriter writes a script and they pitch it to a movie studio. There are no guarantees, of course, but it's an incredible honor to have my work considered.

If you haven't read Our Finest Hour, it's available in all formats, including audio, and at the time I'm writing this the paperback is more than 50% off. Grab it on Amazon or go to Jennifermillikinwrites.com to read the full first chapter.

Five years ago


The second he walks into the lake house, I notice him. Not because he is a sight to behold, with his short hair the color of mesquite and angular jaw that could’ve been carved from marble, although I admit those traits are enjoyable.

No, my attention has been captured by my response to him: the lurch of my stomach, the erratic beating of my heart, the goose bumps covering every inch of my flesh. Is this what magic feels like? 


He doesn’t see me. I’m standing off to the side in the living room, hidden from easy view by Emily and Paige’s backs. We’ve formed a little circle, drinking from our red plastic cups and surveying the scene before diving in. We don’t know anybody here, aside from Jason, the homeowner, and even then we’ve only known him for about five hours. We’d gone on a walk around the lake after lunch and he was outside cleaning up his yard. One well-muscled attractive guy and three females walking past? Didn’t seem like too much of a stretch when he asked us to come to the party he was throwing tonight. I think he likes Emily. He only had eyes for her when he opened his front door and saw the three of us standing there. He was polite, getting us drinks and chatting, but he needed to be a good host and greet some others who’d shown up. We shuffled away, but he kept looking over, checking to make certain Emily was still around.


Right now, her lips are moving, but I don’t hear what she says. Paige must hear her, because she laughs, and I smile automatically, my brain understanding this is an appropriate response even though I am paying zero mind to her. How can I when every cell inside me has been called to attention?


My eyes, my entire body, remains locked on the newcomer. He strides through the house, his presence commanding. He walks up to Jason, and they greet each other with a half-hug accompanied by a solid back slap, but it’s the look they share that makes me curious. The look is bloated with meaning, heavy under an unseen weight.


Jason leads the new guy out of the house and into the backyard. The adrenaline doesn’t leave my body just because he has left the room.


When our cups are empty, we make our way outside, too. Music blares from a speaker set up on a cheap plastic chair. The backyard gently slopes down until the bright green grass turns into dark blue water. A small aluminum boat drifts at the end of a long dock, but it’s tied up so it can’t float away. It’s a stunning view, but wasted on me. I might appear to be absorbing my surroundings, but really I’m looking for him. 


Panic ricochets through me. I don’t see him. 


I search in what I hope is a covert manner, but he isn’t to be found in any of the groups of people standing around or in the line for the keg. How does someone whose presence filled a room so completely, disappear?


“Let’s dance!” Emily shakes her shoulders, her fingers wrapping around my wrist and pulling me closer. It’s a country-rock song, something very danceable, and we make the most of it. There isn’t a whole lot I like to do more than dance. 


The song switches and we keep going. After two more, I pause and stick out my tongue and fan my face. “I need a drink,” I shout above the music, shimmying out of her grasp.


I’m on my way to the keg when it happens. The shuffling of bodies, just enough to create a chasm in the crowd, and our eyes meet. He’s sitting on a picnic table, his feet propped on the bench below him. His gaze is sharp and swift like an arrow, piercing my chest, anchoring me to this moment. 


He doesn’t smile. His eyes don’t light up. Nothing about his posture invites me over, but I can see the words he’s thinking as if his thoughts are available for public consumption. And then, floating out from between those perfect lips, are the words I knew he’d been thinking. 


Come here. 


I’m not one to follow orders, but this feels less like a command and more like a plea. I put one foot in front of the other, and then it hits me.

The Patriot
I never had a choice. Not from the moment he walked into the house. This was always going to happen.

After many reader requests and suggestions, I've written a short chapter from the perspective of a character who didn't get his own voice in The Day He Went Away. I've told you why I wrote it, but now there's a new angle. Enjoy! Oh, also, The Day He Went Away is on sale for $.99 right now. Tomatoes. And not just any tomatoes.San Marzano.I can’t make delicious, mind-blowing, tangy yet slightly sweet with a mouth-feel like velvet marinara without using the best ingredients. That's what the recipe says, and I'm not interested in challenging it. Tonight's a big night for me. Let’s see if the student has become the master, Kate teased when she left the apartment this morning. I didn't want her to go, but there was no way I could miss classes. School is important to me now. I won’t mess up like before. Before the war. Before I knew people like Ethan and Kate existed. Before I lost my world and found it again. Life isn't something to be squandered. I was a jerk before, a guy who looked for fights just so I could feel something. Pain from a well-placed fist, or the pleasure of taking down the opponent. It didn’t matter. After a while, the two emotions bled together. The military saved me. Ethan saved me. And then Kate and I saved each other. She’s the reason I forced myself to get up this morning. I could’ve reached out, pulled her warm body back to mine. She wouldn't have minded. Kate doesn't have a job, at least not the kind that has her rushing to get there by nine.  I’m kind of proud of my girl. And by kind of I mean a ridiculous amount. Forget putting her heart on the line, Kate went and put her whole heart on paper. And now that she has the attention of an agent, she’s one step closer to putting our story in front of the eyes of strangers. I’ve put my physical safety on the line more times than I can count, but I’ve never played with the fire that is emotional safety. Her bravery astounds me. When I met Kate, she wasn’t brave. She wasn’t much of anything, really. A shell, the kind  that curl inward. I used to find them on the beaches of Long Island, and wondered what they were hiding inside. What could be precious enough to need layers of protection?  Kate’s shell is long gone, and so is what she was guarding. She’s no longer the person she was when I met her. And she isn't the person she was before Ethan died, either. She’s softer now, more willing to take chances and make mistakes. Sometimes she laughs until she snorts and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.  The sauce is almost perfect. It’s all I can do not to take a third taste, you know, just to make really sure it’s not poisoned. Kate’s key turns in the lock. I meet her at the door, eager and not at all concerned with playing it cool. Kate and I never had the new relationship jitters, the don’t-show-too-much-of-yourself suppression. Broken people have broken layers. When you can see each others’ souls from the beginning, there’s no need to dip only your toes in the pool.   “Hi,” Kate says, leaning in to kiss me. She pulls back and smacks her lips. “I taste tomatoes.” I kiss her again, because I can, then say “I had to make sure it wasn’t poisoned.”She smiles with one side of her mouth. “My protector.” She’s called me that before, and it’s accurate. My need to protect is more than just an inclination. It’s in my blood. I want the world to be right for the people who deserve it.Kate steps out of my arms only to hang her purse and jacket on the hook by the door, then she’s back where she belongs. She’s dressed in a big, cozy sweater and her hair is piled on top of her head. Her little gold earrings bring out the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. “What?” She asks, looking up at me. Her fingers bump over the stubble on my face. I swallow the lump in my throat. “I love you. That’s all.” She arches her eyebrow. “That’s all?” “Yep,” I nod. Her eyes tell me she’s not buying it, but I’m hoping she’s hungry enough to get distracted. “Come taste the sauce.” I tug on her hand, pulling her into the kitchen.She stops short when we walk in. Her eyes sweep over the smear of red on the stove top, the confetti-like dots of green herbs sprinkled around the floor, and whatever the shiny stuff is on the counter. A small smile plays on her lips. “Here.” I’m holding out the spoon, one hand under to catch the drips, as if the additional mess matters by this point. She leans forward, tasting the first thing I’ve made for her totally on my own. And I’d be a liar if I said watching her try the sauce wasn’t sexy as hell. She pulls back, twists her lips one way, then the other. Her eyes lift to the ceiling, fall to the ground, and then she closes one of them and makes a face like she’s thinking. “Seriously?” I’m dying over here. She snickers. I narrow my eyes. “No,” she says, her face suddenly serious. She backs away, but she’s on the wrong side of the kitchen. The only thing behind her is a wall. “Oh yes.” I slow my advance. She’s as good as captured. Her only defense now is to put her hands on her hips and stand tall. She’s petite though, so it’s not exactly intimidating. My hands land on either side of her stomach and I can feel her muscles clench, her laughter already starting even though I haven’t moved my fingers yet. “I was going to tickle you, but now that I’m here, I don’t know if that’s what I want to do.” Like butter left in the summer sun, her whole body melts. Her arms wind around my neck and she presses into me. I love how intensely she loves me. She doesn't keep any emotion back. The good, the bad, the ugly, they all catapult from her heart. It wasn’t always this way, and I think it makes me appreciate it more. There was a time I had to pry every feeling from her. That was nearly two years ago. That time will always be precious to us, but it doesn't define us. Who we are is happening right now. It’s Nick and Kate, in the kitchen of the apartment we share, seconds away from forgetting about the marinara.It’s the trust she’s placed in me, her willingness to love me even when her fear of losing me tells her not to. It’s who we were then, who we are now, and who we are going to be together.    Only yesterday I brought the ring home, but it’s burning a hole in my sock drawer. I already know her answer. I’ve known mine since the day she showed me her phoenix tattoo. Before I can ask her, I have two stops to make. Kate’s mother has already given me her blessing, but I owe it to her father to at least ask him too, even if his answer will be silent. And then, Ethan. She was his before she was mine. He should know that we’ve both found happiness, and in just the way he planned. His hand left our relationship long ago, but it was there at first, guiding us, until we could make it on our own. Some things in life are worth fighting for. And Kate was one of them.   

First off, let me apologize. I don't normally email twice in a week. (Or month, really). And never in consecutive days. But, I didn't have a choice.Freebook days coincided with a blog post where I ask to be your friend, so, I just had to roll with it.Moving on. Happy St. Patty's day!Are you wearing your green? I'm not. *gasp* I have green eyes, so that's my excuse. Also, my maiden name is VERY Irish, so I like to say I don't participate in the pinching shenanigans. Or the kissing ones.Are you going out tonight? Drinking green beer? Irish car bombs? Eating bangers and mash? Because, yum.So, I've been thinking. What if this weekend you had a book hangover instead of the toilet hugging kind of hangover?I madeThe Day He Went Awayavailable for free today through March 21st. And calling it capable of a book hangover is not self-proclaimed. It has actually been called that.So, please, go and snag my book for FREE this weekend. I'll send one more email on Monday before it goes back to normal price. Just in case this email mysteriously disappears.xoxo,Green eyed girl who sometimes was pinched anyway

A few weeks ago a person who read The Day He Went Away reached out to me. We chatted, and soon realized that although we now live across the country from each other, we went to neighboring high schools at the same time.Say what?!How's that for coincidence? Must've been the sunny skies and cacti in our desert blood that connected us. *insert winky face*Anyhow, it made me think. (If I said that to my husband, he would ask if it hurt.) There are so many people who've read my books, which are literally a collection of thoughts that have streamed directly from my brain. And if anyone read The Day He Went Away, they know me really well because that novel is fiction based on fact about my real-life experience. So here is my question: Can I get to know my readers better? The answer: Umm...YES.So, here it is. I'm just an author, standing in front of her reader, asking them to introduce themselves. Maybe a sentence or two about your current life set-up. Maybe something you're working on, or something you just did that made you really proud. Maybe something basic, like where you grew up.That's all I'm asking for. I'm a writer because I can't breathe without words. You're a reader because words have the power to make you feel. See? We're already connected. We're literary lobsters. (Major cool points if you know what TV show that came from.)xoxo,J

If you were one of my beta readers for The Day He Went Away, you'd know exactly how to answer that question. If you've read the book, you know the ending I ultimately chose. The choice wasn't easy, and based upon reviews and feedback from readers, I've noticed the curiosity is the same within so many of you.I went with the Nick and Kate ending because readers of romance like a solid ending. They've just invested 5-10 hours rooting for and hopefully falling in love with these two characters, and not getting the happily ever after can feel like a slap in the face. So, Nick+Kate = LoveNick is great. Nick is dreamy. Nick is steadfast, and true. Kate's rock. But, but, but... ETHAN! What would happen if Ethan were still alive? If he somehow survived? I may write a novella and offer it on my website only, just because OH MY GOSH what if it were true? Oh, the possibilities. For now, I'm going to post the final deleted chapter. It's short on purpose.Enjoy.xoxo,JChapter Thirty-Two (Deleted)EthanDuty. Honor. Loyalty.That’s why I’ve agreed to this.They all think I’m dead. Mom, Dad, Kate, Nick. Army helicopter crash, no survivorsfound.But there was one survivor.Me.By the time I was found they’d already had my funeral. They were neck-deep in gettingover their grief. Four nurses held me down when they told me they had already announced mydeath, and a fifth one put a sedative in my drip. With a broken leg I wasn’t supposed to move, Istruggled. Finally free of the mountains where I thought I would die, finally free of the tinyvillage where I was taken after being found by two sheepherders, I learned I'm not really free atall.The Army had plans for me. Big plans.You’re going to be able to do so much more foryour country now that you’re dead.But I’m not dead.To all the people who matter to me, who love me, I’m gone. I’ve broken their hearts. Mymother. My father. My Katie girl.I picture Kate, strong and healthy. One year after my death, and she's happy. She’s healedfrom the loss of me. She’s in her kitchen, following detailed recipes, and going for long hikes.Doing things she loves.I've agreed to one more year of this.And then I'm going home.I'm coming for you, Kate.