Success message
Error message
When Tom and Ella Watson seek a post-retirement new life, little did they know that Ella's talent for creating tasty baked goods would bring the Devlin Bakery of Martinsville, Illinois, back to life. After being shuttered for three years, the enticing aroma of fresh-baked goods will again float on the morning air, rejuvenate the town's spirit, and the townsfolk will, once again, have a place to gather.
Long-lost family members find each other, friendships are forged, and love comes to some for the first time. Secrets are unearthed, and mysteries are solved. What is the mayor determined to hide from the townsfolk? Who is the young woman, the newcomer in town, who purchases large quantities of baked goods for months on end, and who is eating them? What riddle is behind the haunting look in Delia's eyes? What secrets lie hidden in the lives of the townspeople? Is anyone living a life with regret?
What’s a good book without a follow-up? Secret Lives tells the story of the characters’ early years prior to the timeframe of Down At The Devlin Bakery. Speaking from her grave, Marion Devlin discloses her unsettling early life and how being raised under the oppressive thumb of her mother changed her future. She recounts the distressing story of how her two oldest daughters, Natalie and Susan, display the same self-serving, wicked, and cunning traits as their grandmother, Eleanor Simpson. Dean Johnson, Martinsville’s unpredictable judge, exploits people and uses his knowledge of fellow townsfolk’s private affairs against them. And, Jessica remains uncertain about what lies ahead until her fate is changed by an unexpected encounter with a man whose values and desires align with her own. The story reveals surprising relationships, evil people, and even murder. In the end, love conquers all.
Secret Lives will be available early 2026.
The best way to tell you about Down At The Devlin Bakery is to share with you the origin of the book’s idea.
A friend of mine, Jan Hood, and I are members of a genealogy research group called Genbuds. While we usually have guest speakers at each meeting, we occasionally don’t, and in that case, we use the time to share interesting tidbits about our family heritage. During one such meeting, Jan shared with us the story of her generational family-run bakery, which had been in existence since the late 1890s in Martinsville, Illinois. As a little girl, she spent many summers with her grandparents, who lived in an apartment over the bakery. She watched her grandparents prepare, bake, and sell their loaves of bread, biscuits, and pastries.
Intrigued by Jan’s story, the universe soon began telling me a story I never could have imagined. It was a story about a married couple who retired from their farming life and soon ended up owning and running a bakery. The story began and continued like a play running in my head.
Shortly after the story began unfolding in my mind, a woman who knew I enjoyed writing suggested that I submit a story to the Daughters of the American Revolution 2020 annual contest. One woman begged me to write as our chapter had never won a prize in the category “Literature and Drama, Fiction and Non-Fiction.” I put aside the ideas about the bakery book and wrote a story, the theme for that year being the 19th Amendment.
The story rolled around in my head for the next few months until mid-January, when I figured I’d best start typing, as the deadline was February 12. Early in March, I received an email from the national headquarters of DAR, informing me my story had won third prize out of 174 entries. Quite an accomplishment, indeed.
I was now free to return to my thoughts of the book. Again, the story started rolling around in my head when I wasn’t preoccupied with work until Covid hit. My husband, a heart patient then, and I panicked. People were dying on both coasts by the hundreds every day. Businesses were closed, and I had no work to do.
We packed up our cars, and along with our dogs, we drove three hours to our house in Show Low, Arizona. Now, in Show Low, I had nothing to do; my mind was virtually quiet. As I walked toward the kitchen each morning to make coffee, the main character, Ella, began telling me her story. Frankly, Ella wouldn’t stop talking. I had no recourse but to start typing. I typed for five days straight. If I became tired, the writing slowed and stagnated, I knew I had to quit for the day.
I had enough experience under my belt to write decent sentences with the information Ella imparted. In the world of writing, the objective is to do it while it’s fresh and hot in your mind. It’s called ‘burping it onto the page.’ Worry about mistakes later. Editing is a vast process. It is not only the responsibility of the writer but also an opportunity to expand scenes, check synonyms, and reorganize paragraphs.
It didn’t take long before I knew I had the makings of a book merging from my consciousness; therefore, I followed Ella’s lead and continued to write over the following months, which turned into a couple of years.
A fascinating aspect of my story was that ideas would enter my head without me wondering why or what meaning they might have. Regardless, I typed them as they came to me. I ended one chapter with a big emotional revelation. I couldn’t figure out how to start the next chapter. Where does one go after such a revealing event? Over the next two weeks, I sat at my desk, and nothing came to mind. Finally, I found how to begin again. Sometimes, you have to be patient with the universe. See the beginning of chapter VII.
When your mind is quiet and free from other distractions, mental images will emerge. If you are open to the universe, information and ideas will flow into the creative side of your brain. If all this sounds like magic, it is.
I’m sorry if this sounds more like the topic of writing; however, it’s difficult to separate the book’s story from the writing process. I can only tell you that if you have an idea, if something is rolling around in your head, get writing or typing. You never know where it will lead.
As various characters appeared in scenes, I instantly knew what they looked like. I saw Mayor Bigby as a short man with a paunch, a friendly and loud voice, and a down-to-earth demeanor, and he seemed more intelligent than he initially appeared to be. He used his good old-boy demeanor to appear friendly and approachable. I can’t tell you where I got the name. All I can say is, with a moment’s pause, I had it; John Bigby.
I should tell you about Ella, my great-grandfather’s little sister. She was born and died before he was born. I found her in my genealogy research, and she touched my heart. I don’t know how she died; I could never find her death certificate, but I know she was about seven years old. Ella’s last name was Walton.
I named Patricia Snyder for a dear woman I met in Lafayette, Louisiana. We did research together. She is now deceased. It upsets me when dear, lovely people leave this earth. I miss folks like her.
Alexander Schroeder is a family name, as is Raymond Krug. Alex’s secretary, Sophie, is a name I have always liked. My friend, Carol, has a dog named Sophie. Sharon: I have a friend named Sharon. As my fingers flew across the keys, the names of Jessica, Natalie, Susan, and Tom Watson came easily to mind.
Marion Devlin was named after a distant relative, Marion Carson. I don’t know how we were related. Adopted into the family as a baby, I never bothered to ask anyone who her adopted parents were. I saw her infrequently when she visited Michigan. She always brought me a present. She was caring, open, and sweet. I could tell she wanted to feel like she belonged to the family. Like many other relatives, I wish I knew more about their lives and connections.
Ending a book was an exciting time. I researched bad endings to books. I learned that many famous writers have endings to their books that not only their readers dislike, but also make them mad. I rewrote the ending to my book four times. Isn’t that interesting?
If you have questions or comments, they are always welcome. Please take a few minutes to write to me.
~ Deborah Goodacre
