Jessica Scott

One of the questions I’m often asked by readers is “What’s your favorite of all your books?” Which 
is a bit like asking a mother to name her favorite child and impossible to answer.

That said, I’ll admit that The Homecoming, the first in my Shelter Bay series, is very personal to me. Partly because it’s set on the magnificent Oregon coast, where my husband once bought me a bag of salt-water taffy, then proposed. Decades later, not only is the candy store still there, I’m so glad I said yes! Combining my hobbies of photography and scrapbooking, I created a video virtual tour of Shelter Bay on my website at http://joannross.com. If that red-roofed house on the tour looks familiar, it’s because Signet’s art department used it on The Homecoming’s cover.

Another question I get a lot is why I chose to write about military heroes. That’s a complex question, but one reason is that I’ve always been a sucker for a guy in uniform. When I was growing up, nearly every male I knew got drafted into the military. Even Elvis didn’t get a pass. After going through Army boot camp, he was sent to Germany, where he met a teenage Priscilla, and well, we all know how that turned out.

Along with several military men and women we’ve “adopted” through Soldiers Angels over the years, we also have two nephews in the Army — Patrick, who completed two Iraq tours and Kyle, who’s already “done” Iraq and is currently serving as a medevac in Afghanistan. Needless to say, having them in harm’s way these past years has made my High Risk books, and now my Shelter Bay stories, extremely personal.

Ongoing concern for them is also partly why I’ve returned to my more emotional family-centric romance roots after the murder and mayhem of romantic suspense. Since writing about serial killers eventually gets depressing, I’m so happy to be back telling feel-good stories about good things happening to nice, but flawed people.

Another reason I like to write about military heroes (along with a military heroine in Shattered) is because they possess something that seems to be in short supply these days – honor.

I firmly believe that a man capable of committing to something outside himself can also commit to a mate and, as a woman, I find that really appealing

The hero I like to write about doesn’t have any personal desire to create conflict or aggression, but he does possess an unwavering code that has him not hesitating to put himself in harm’s way and risk being wounded — physically, emotionally, or both — to protect, defend, and fight for what’s right. He’s self-disciplined, decisive (though he often has to battle his own internal demons, as The Homecoming’s Sex Douchett does) and along with an integrity as tough as his body, he’s unwaveringly loyal and self-confident enough to appreciate and support the equally strong woman who manages to win his guarded heart.

Many readers might be surprised to learn that I’ve been writing military heroes since I wrote a male point-of-view romance about a former Vietnam POW in the mid ‘80s, which was a groundbreaking subject for the genre and still remains on many must-read lists. Since then, though I don’t always mention the fact, most of the heroes in my books have been veterans.

One of the things I’m enjoying exploring in my Shelter Bay books is life after war. As hopefully more and more of our troops begin returning home, there are some wonderful stories waiting to be told, and I can’t wait to write some of them.

In The Homecoming, both Sax Douchett and Kara Conway have returned to their small coastal hometown seeking healing and closure. The ocean has always provided a shelter from emotional storms for me. It’s where I go to unwind and put my life in perspective, which is why I named my fictional coastal town Shelter Bay. Do you have some special place where you feel at peace? A place that, at least in your heart, feels like home?

To celebrate the book’s release day, three people who respond (chosen at random), will receive an autographed copy of The Homecoming.

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So things have been a little insane around my house lately. My kids are starting to settle in with being home and more importantly, being comfortable being home. Part of that comfort is trusting us to be there when they wake up in the morning.

When my hubby and I left, both for R&R and for the original deployment, we delayed talking about leaving until it was time to go. It was important to us because we wanted to enjoy our time together. But inevitably, it came time to tell the kids we were going to be gone. We never said we have to go to work. We said we had to go away for a while and we told them we were not going to be there in the morning. It sucked every night while my kids cried, telling me they did not want me to go.

They still don’t understand that work is every day and that we’ll be home in the evening. Every time there is a break in our new routine, they get upset. And I’m talking sitting on my lap with red faces, tears streaking down their faces, crying ‘Mommy, I don’t want you to go.’
It’s not easy to turn it off and deal with it rationally. It’s hard, because I know they’re hurting. I know there is an ache inside them that they don’t have the words to explain and I know that I am responsible for the insecurity in their lives.

It’s hard to find the words to comfort them because they don’t understand but I have to keep trying. I have to find a way to tell them that mommy isn’t leaving again, any time soon and convince them that it is true. I’ve wrecked their trust, even though it was unintentional and it’s going to take time to rebuild that.

It’s hard and it hurts but it is getting better. Things are starting to slip into routine. My oldest is starting to enjoy school again. My youngest is still not a fan of the daycare but she’s no longer screaming mommy don’t leave me when I drop her off.

They’re doing okay and with a lot of prayer and plenty of vitamin b, I’m doing okay, too. But that, my friends, is another post.

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It’s been stressful these last few days. The oldest didn’t want to go to school because she was being referred to as ‘the new girl’. Then, to top it off, she hasn’t eaten dinner in like five days now. She has to at least try everything, which she’s doing but a single bite of lasagna that she spits out isn’t really going to hold her until morning. But I refuse to be a short order cook and I refuse to make peanut butter and jelly for dinner. So we’re working through that, but as a result of her not eating, the littlest daughter is skipping dinner.

The end result of skipping dinner? Bed time is an absolute nightmare and mornings are even more fun. They’re hungry, they’re tired and they’re not even close to enjoyable. So at the end of my mind, I called my friend Tamara, who’s also just back from a deployment. I needed help. I needed to confess what was going on and ask how the heck is she doing it.

You know what she told me? She said you need to wake up every morning, and pray and be grateful. You have today to love those little girls and be with them. You need to ask for help with being patient and just be grateful that you have today with them. She really got me with that one. Tamara knows me. We went through Officer Candidate School together and each of us dealt with missing our kids and we’ve helped each other through our respective deployments. When our daughters saw each other at school, they were so happy to see each other.

That’s the kind of friend you need at a time like this. At a time when you’re ready to pull your hair out, instead you sit on the bathroom floor and talk through it. You can talk about what’s really bothering you and your friend will tell you to pull yourself up and get over it. If you don’t like it, change it.

So I did. The next morning, I rolled out of bed and made a change. No more yelling. Getting down on their levels. Smiling and hugging instead of worrying about being late. Enjoying the fact that I’m home, that I have my daughters back and, surprise, they still love me and my husband.

And it worked. Last night, no major out bursts. No yelling. This morning, there were tears, but for the most part, we got through it with hugs and smiles.

You wouldn’t think that coming home would be that stressful. You’d think it would be a panacea of happiness. It is but it also isn’t. There’s no one here to run interference for Scott and I, except each other. The best part about our year in Iraq was the fact that we grew closer as a couple and are able to talk through stuff that before, we’d argued about.

So the challenges continue with our coming home and I’m sure they’ll keep on. But at the end of it all, I spent a year longing for this. I will appreciate today, because I might not have tomorrow.

Thank you, Tamara, for being the friend to tell me straight and let me lean on you.

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I’ve been treading water for the last two weeks. Two nights ago, I walked into my mother home to cries of mommy, mommy. I held my daughters in my arms and I was finally home. The piece of me that was missing is now filled. I am no longer just Jessie, just a soldier, just a writer. I’m Mommy once more, with all that entails.

And I couldn’t be happier. I’m exhausted, look like hell, (remember that crappy hair cut? Yeah, I’ve had no time to take care of it.) but couldn’t be happier. I’ve had no desire to write but that’s only temporary. For now, my job is mommy. My littlest one likes to tell me “you’re the best parents in the whole wide world” even after we’ve left them for the entire year.

They’re clingy. We cannot leave them alone and have no desire to. They fight in the car more. We made it exactly five minutes on a road trip to town before my hubby was ready to pull his hair out from the “mommies” arguments and I was cracking up because despite the time lapse, I’m still able to tune them out. Of course, he went and bought dvd players for the coming road trip to Texas.

I’ve done arts and crafts and gone sledding and slept in a chair holding both of them. My youngest is so far out of pull ups, my oldest could pass for a third grader with her more mature short hair cut (I swear to God, if I catch her with scissors again…). I’ve already started counting to three to overcome my 3 year old’s selective hearing.

There’s no better feeling than holding my daughters as they snuggle up. They’ve changed incredibly but then again, so have I. This is what’s really important. The time with my kiddos. I’ll never get this year back but I still have today to make a difference and let them know how much I loved them and missed them. I’ll never let the opportunity pass by.

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