Delia Latham's Blog, page 5

Picnics & Promises: Sweet Delights (Cecelia Dowdy)

A huge welcome to Cecelia Dowdy, with the next Picnics & Promises novella, SWEET DELIGHTS!


Picnics & Promises: Six Delicious Summer Romances



SWEET DELIGHTS by Cecelia Dowdy


Patty-Lynn is stunned when she runs into her wealthy ex-boyfriend, Sam. She’s still haunted by their painful breakup seven years ago. Recently widowed, Sam now wants to fix their broken relationship. Seeing Patty-Lynn, happy in her bakery, gives him hope. Can her prize-winning pie recipe sweeten his new business venture and heal their broken hearts?





Excerpt from SWEET DELIGHTS:

“PATTY-LYNN?” THE FAMILIAR VOICE made her pause.She quickly turned and slammed right into Sam Richardson. Her lips brushed against his shirt right before she took a few steps back. Goodness, she didn’t realize he’d been standing right behind her. “Sam? What you doing here?” She’d just finished setting up the wedding cake. The guests weren’t due at the reception for another hour.“My friend Mark just married my sister-in-law Lisa. He sent me to the reception early to make sure everything was set up.”Lisa. Sam’s wife’s sister. So she assumed Sam’s wife, Lorena, would come strolling in at any time. She imagined the woman was part of the bridal party. Well when Lorena turned up, Patty-Lynn would be sure that she was long gone. No way did she want to see the woman who’d stolen Sam’s heart away from her seven years ago. He leaned toward her, as if he were going to give her a hug. No way did she want to hug him. She quickly turned around, ran smack into the table, hard. The table tilted on an incline as pain shot through her knee. The wedding cake slid down the small table, right toward the floor. She reached out toward the cake and screamed. Quick as a cannon, Sam raced to the end of the table and caught the cake in his arms.Workers in black and white suits appeared from the back, scurried and assisted Sam with the cake, set it back upright onto another nearby table. The manager yelled at his workers in Spanish, pointing at the legs of the faulty table. Apparently one of the legs had not been properly locked into place when they’d set it up. The manager bobbed his head toward her. “So, so sorry ma’am.” Not half as sorry as she was. After the workers had confirmed that the legs were properly locked into place, she shooed them away. Before she could examine her cake to be sure no damage had been done, she focused on Sam. He patiently stood beside her. His intoxicating cologne wreaked havoc with her frazzled nerves.She gulped. It’d probably be a good idea to thank him. After all, if it wasn’t for his fast save, her cake would have been splattered onto the floor and then she’d have to explain the terrible fiasco to the bride and groom. She forced herself to look into his eyes. Dang, he had the most hypnotic eyes she’d ever seen. She used to swoon just staring into the chocolate brown depths. Looked like he still had some effect on her, and that was not good, not at all. She finally forced herself to speak. “Sam, awful kind of you to rescue my cake like that. I appreciate it.” He’d also helped to save her business. If word had gotten out that she’d ruined a wedding cake, her business would have been affected – she was sure of that.“You’re welcome.” He gestured toward the table that had caused them so much grief. “Did you need some help?”She was about to say no, but stopped herself. She could use some help. The white table cloth had spilled onto the floor and she needed another. “Could you ask the manager for a new table cloth? I don’t want to use that one since it was lying on the floor.”Sam scurried away. While he was gone, she took a few minutes to compose herself and examine her cake.Surprisingly, the three-tier cake swirled with rosettes and curlicues looked perfect. She saw where Sam’s finger had touched the bottom layer, messing up a small sliver of the fluted icing. She quickly opened her bag of supplies and repaired the damage. There, nobody would be able to tell that this cake had been saved from certain death.Sam had been quick, that was for sure. She remembered how he’d been a fast runner on his college track team. He could sprint with his long brown legs. She also recalled he ran every day—either early morning or late at night. Good thing he’d come to her rescue this afternoon.“Here’s the tablecloth.” He rushed from the back of the kitchen and working together, they quickly smoothed the cloth over the table. She was about to get the cake but he stopped her. “Hold on.”He slammed his hand on top of the table, then forced himself to bump right into it. What in the world was he doing? “I just want to make sure it won’t topple over if somebody crashes into it again.”Ahh. Now that was smart. Well, she needed to be smart, too. What if they tried to move this heavy cake and slipped or something? She took the cake boxes and dismantled the cake, carefully setting each tier back into the box. Sam studied her as she completed her chore. “What are you doing?”“I don’t trust myself to move this whole cake back to that table. It’s heavy. I know you did a fast save earlier, but I just want to be sure.” She carefully carried each layer back to the table, set one layer on top of the other. Now, all she needed to do was put the figurine of the bride and groom on the cake. She removed the cake topper from the packet and pressed it into the white icing. The sweet delicious scent of vanilla wafted around her.“You do some nice work, Patty-Lynn.”“Thanks, Sam.” She needed to be cordial to him. She eyed the dark suit and blue shirt that hugged his trim frame. Oh, how she’d used to love it when he’d held her in his long, lanky muscular arms. She nodded toward him. Eyed the cake again. She’d finished her duties here. Time to get back to work. “Well, Sam, nice seeing you again. Thanks again for helping me. I’m much obliged to you for doing that.” She gathered her bag of supplies, slipped it over her shoulder. “Have a nice day.” She strolled toward the exit.“Patty-Lynn, wait.” His deep, sexy voice resonated in the room, making her heart pound. Oh, how she remembered how excited she’d become when her name rolled from his beautiful lips. “No, Sam. I’ve got to get to work.” She had a special order to fill that day. Fifty banana cream pies for a huge corporate event. She’d been selling a lot of her blue-ribbon banana cream pies lately. Since she’d recently won The French International Pie Competition, her sales had doubled.“I’ve opened a new office for Richardson Enterprises in Crystal Spring.” Sam moved a step closer. Lord help her, she couldn’t believe Sam had actually moved to her small town. She recalled he lived near his family, about two hours away, up in Northern Virginia. The thought of Sam being in such close proximity rattled her. “Why don’t we get together for a picnic?” Oh, no, he had to go and mention a picnic. When they’d dated, her favorite activity was having a picnic in the park. They’d shared thick sandwiches and huge cups of cold iced tea. He’d teased her, telling her how much he enjoyed hearing the southern twang in her voice. He’d loved her southern accent, said that she sounded cute when she spoke. He’d leaned in for warm romantic kisses while they’d enjoyed their treats. Afterwards, they’d eat big, sweet slices of pie.Those passionate kisses, those picnic dates. That’s what had gotten them into trouble. As soon as his sister, Kelly, had spotted them, ratted them out, things had spiraled out of control. Kelly knew that his parents wouldn’t approve of their relationship. Well, she’d learned to let bygones be bygones, at least she thought she had. But if she’d really let bygones be bygones then why did hearing Sam’s voice make her feel weird, light-headed, almost hypnotized. The memories swirled through her, making her wish her day had gotten off to a better start.Besides he was married to Lorena, so why would he want to go on a picnic date? She didn’t want to have anything to do with a married man. Kind of sad that Sam had such loose morals. She needed to focus on leaving. “Sam, it’s been real nice seeing you again.” She swallowed and forced herself to give him her megawatt smile. Not a good idea to let him know how seeing him again affected her. She offered her hand and he eyed her palm, accepting it. Her white skin clashed with his dark chocolate complexion. She gave him a firm handshake before offering another smile. Standing tall, she rushed toward the door and pushed it open. She welcomed the heat from the sunshine as she scurried to her delivery van.


Sam eyed his late wife’s sister, Lisa, as she popped a bite of wedding cake into Mark’s mouth. Seeing his wife’s identical twin get married had been bittersweet. Hard to believe that Lorena had been dead for two years. He squeezed his napkin, so many thoughts ripping through him, too many. He’d just gotten his MBA—his father had insisted he get an advanced degree before promoting him to the Marketing and Food Distribution Director’s position.Surprisingly, when his father had said that Crystal Spring Maryland was where their new office would be located, he’d wondered if God was showing him a sign. As soon as he’d heard this news, he’d thought about Patty-Lynn, the first woman he’d loved when he was only twenty-one, a senior in college. When they’d dated, she’d told him that she’d been born in Crystal Spring, and that’s where she’d lived during the first seven years of her life. Now, it was late March, and their new office was set to open. It’d been a leap of faith for his dad, allowing Sam to run his own office.After pictures had been snapped of the happy couple eating cake, the confection was served to the guests. Several slices were also slipped into white paper bags, ready for guests to take home. A server approached and slid a white plate toward him. The cake looked awesome. The white cake, bright red filling, pale frosting. He cut his fork into the delicate cake and popped a large bite into his mouth. Strawberries, sweet sugar….delicious. He closed his eyes, vividly recalling that Patty-Lynn had lived in the basement apartment of an off-campus house. She’d made him a cake in her small oven for his birthday. His birthday cake had tasted just like this wedding cake. She didn’t have much money. Only eighteen, and just out of high school, she’d moved to his university town from down south and worked in a fast food place near campus. He’d managed to keep their intense, deeply emotional relationship a secret from his parents. He opened his eyes, the memories haunting his mind. He inwardly cringed, recalling how he’d hurt Patty-Lynn, one of the sweetest women he’d ever met. Eyeing the crowd, he enjoyed another bite of cake. Man, seeing her again made it seem as if time had stood still. Patty-Lynn still looked the same—petite, pretty. Her smooth white skin was sprinkled with cute freckles across her nose. How he’d loved her rosebud-shaped mouth. Her lips turned down when she was upset or afraid.Patty-Lynn had had her share of disappointments over the years. When they’d dated she’d struggled with so many problems. She didn’t have the luxury of having a family to back her up. She was used to being by herself. “Hey, man.” Mark clapped him on the shoulder. He’d been in such deep thought that he didn’t realize the bride and groom were now circulating the room, making sure they greeted every single guest. “You looked like you were a million miles away.” Mark had removed his tuxedo jacket and had loosened his tie. He’d noticed a few of the younger female guests eyeing Mark during the reception. His friend got his share of female attention with his dark skin and striking good looks. Mark had mentioned that Lisa would get mad when females openly admired him in public.Sam tried to smile. “I was.”“Is something wrong?”This was no time or place to tell Mark about all that was on his mind. “Yeah, something happened before the reception.”Mark gestured toward the stairs in the lobby. “Why don’t we go up to the suite to talk about it?”Both the bride and groom had a private suite. “Are you sure?” Who took time to talk about a problem during a wedding?Mark checked his Rolex watch. “I have a few minutes. Lisa won’t mind as long as I don’t stay too long.”Might as well. He needed somebody to talk to right now. His mind was so full of tumultuous thoughts that he thought his brain would explode. He followed Mark into the posh lobby. Chandeliers dipped from the vaulted ceiling. Plush carpet sunk beneath their shoes as they made their way up the stairs. He followed Mark down a long hallway before he opened a white door marked as Groom’s Suite. Sam followed him into the room. Mark dropped into a chair, propped his feet onto a stool. “Man, I’m tired. I can’t wait until we leave for Hawaii in the morning. Now, what’s up?”“You remember you’d mentioned you’d had some problems with the caterers? Lisa wanted me to come to the reception early to make sure everything was set up before the bridal party arrived.”“Yeah, man, thanks a lot for doing that.”Sam nodded, rubbed his hand over his head. This was so hard to talk about. He took a deep breath. What he needed was a good stiff drink, but alcohol was something he’d given up when he’d become a Christian. The temptation was just so great—hard for him to indulge without overdoing it. “Well, when I got here, the baker was setting up the cake. It was Patty-Lynn.” He told him how he’d saved the cake in the nick of time.Mark blinked, frowned. “Patty-Lynn? Who’s that?”“Lisa never told you about Patty-Lynn?” How strange. He knew that Lisa was aware that he’d broken up with Patty-Lynn right before he’d started dating her twin sister, Lorena. He figured Lisa would have mentioned it to Mark. After all, Lorena was the person he’d married one year after he’d broken up with Patty-Lynn.Mark shrugged. “I know the baker I hired to do the cake owns a bakery called Patty’s Pie Palace over in Crystal Spring. Other than that, I don’t know her. We were fortunate to get her to do our cake.” “Really? Why?”“Since our reception was an hour away from Crystal Spring, we weren’t sure if we were too far away for her to deliver it.” He shrugged. “But she said she’d do it. I thought the cake was good.” He focused on Sam. “Should I know her? The first time I saw her was when I ordered the cake.”“Lisa wasn’t with you when you chose the cake?”Mark shook his head. “Nope. She was so busy with other stuff, and you know Lisa, she’s not a big fan of sweets. She left the cake totally up to me. So Patty’s Pie Palace was recommended by our wedding coordinator. I visited her shop, chose a vanilla wedding cake.” He shrugged. “Seemed easy enough. Should I know her?” he repeated.“I guess not, since Lisa didn’t mention her to you. It was just strange seeing her. I feel so bad.”“About what?” Mark threw his hands in the air, as if upset that Sam was taking so long to explain what was on his mind.“I dated Patty-Lynn seven years ago.”Mark nodded, stroked his chin. “So?” He patiently waited, as if coaxing Sam to open up to him.“My parents…well my parents and grandparents didn’t approve of her. She wasn’t from a good family…well, she barely knew her family. She was poor, her parents died in a car accident when she was a kid…she was raised by different foster families. She’d been on her own since she was eighteen. She had a deep southern accent, terrible table manners—”“So she was from the wrong side of the tracks?”“Yeah, but she didn’t put on airs.”Mark frowned. “What do you mean?”“I mean she was real. So blunt, so open, so…honest. I loved her and she loved me. We dated for a year and, my parents…Well, you know how they are.”“Yeah, unfortunately, I do.”Richardson Enterprises had been a big family food distribution business for over one hundred and fifty years. It’d been started by freed slaves within his family and had grown. His parents and grandparents had protected that legacy with an iron fist. “Can you imagine how they reacted when I started dating a poor uneducated woman? They also objected to the color of her skin.” That had been the biggest pill for them to swallow, especially for his grandparents. They’d been highly vocal about their wanting him to date a wealthy Black woman.“I’m surprised you found the courage to tell them.”“I didn’t.”He frowned. “How’d they find out?”“Kelly saw us during a picnic date and told my parents.” He dropped his head into his hands. The memories tumbled through his mind like unwanted bricks. The arguments, the discussions, the pain. When they discovered that Patty-Lynn was not just a brief fling, but that he’d been secretly dating her for a year, declared his love for her….they’d made him miserable. His grandmother had threatened to withhold his inheritance if he married Patty-Lynn—if he had any children, they would not be able to be a part of Richardson Enterprises. The turmoil, hurt, and pain that his family had caused…it was just too much. In spite of his deep love for Patty-Lynn, he didn’t want to hurt her. “I don’t need to explain all of this to you. I think, knowing my family, you can imagine their reaction.”“So you broke up with her?” Mark asked quietly.He nodded. “By the time we broke up, she was nineteen and I was twenty-two. Patty-Lynn cried, hard. I cried too. But I just wanted her to be happy. I honestly didn’t think my family would ever accept her.” They’d been openly rude to the woman he’d loved. He’d brought her to the house for a family dinner and it’d been a disaster. A formal dinner setting, she’d not known which utensil to use. She’d spilled her drink, she’d been so nervous. Then, he’d been upset with himself. Sure, he’d warned her about his family, but he could have at least explained the outward in principal. He’d been so pre-occupied, worried about his family’s reaction that he didn’t think of things he could’ve done to make things easier for Patty-Lynn.Heck, who was he kidding? Even if he’d taken the time to teach her some of the things he’d known since he was a child, the proper way to act, the way to sit, how to eat, would they still have accepted her? He doubted it. She’d still not meet their high expectations. Although she’d worked in a fast-food joint near his college campus, she’d had no aspirations for college. His parents had cringed at her southern public school education. They’d openly wondered why he didn’t simply date one of the college students. When his mom had asked her about her educational endeavors, Patty-Lynn had haughtily told his mom that she didn’t have time for school. She did well enough on her own. Plus, how was she going to pay for school? She was barely making a living for herself.“So seeing her today started you thinking about stuff?”“Yeah. My life has changed so much.” He’d become saved and now relied on Christ for his decisions. He tried to do everything that his parents wanted and felt they knew best. But for some reason, he always felt as if his dad never approved of his actions. He still thought his dad was a bit harsh with his criticism, and he figured in time, he’d earn his father’s approval. Especially since he’d be opening the office in Crystal Spring. Mark checked his watch. “Well, I’ve got to get back downstairs. I know Lisa will be looking for me. But if you want my advice, I’ll tell you what I think you should do.”He sat up straight. This should be good. He’d been friends with Mark for over a year. They’d hit it off after he’d joined Mark and Lisa’s church. Whenever he sought Mark’s advice, he’d never steered him wrong. The man had a good head on his shoulders, so hearing what he had to say would be interesting.“What should I do?”
Mark cleared his throat. “Give it a few days. If she’s still on your mind, simply visit her at her bakery. It’s easy find, downtown on the main road. When you visit, you might want to try her banana cream pie. Best pie I’ve ever eaten in my life.”

Purchase the Picnics & Promises Collection
About Cecelia Dowdy:
CECELIA DOWDY is a world traveler who has been an avid reader for as long as she can remember. When she first read Christian fiction, she felt called to write for the genre. She currently has several romance novels published in the Christian market. She loves to read, write, and bake desserts in her spare time. Cecelia currently resides with her husband and young son in Maryland.

Picnics & Promises: Imperfectly Proverbs 31 (Autumn MacArthur)

The next author in my Picnics & Promises highlight series is Autumn MacArthur, with Imperfectly Proverbs 31. Enjoy!

Picnics & Promises: Six Delicious Summer Romances
IMPERFECTLY PROVERBS 31by Autumn MacArthur

The last thing geeky Samantha Rose planned for was the homemaking blog only her sister was ever supposed to see going viral. After a disastrous picnic, Daniel Novak, the cynical reporter dispatched to interview her, insists he must reveal the truth. But that could ruin everything, including their budding love.






Excerpt from IMPERFECTLY PROVERBS 31:
His knock on the door was answered almost immediately. Definitely the woman he’d seen in the store. No makeup, blonde hair in a soft wispy up-do, and a pink flowered apron over her white T-shirt and slim jeans. Instead of the earlier wary glance, she smiled welcome, though the smile didn’t light up her eyes.And there, in her oven-mitted hand, was the source of the delicious scent. A tray of chocolate chip cookies. They looked as good as they smelled.“Ms. Rose? I’m Daniel Novak.”She swung the door wide, revealing an entry hall with braided rugs on the polished wood floors. “Come in. We have a picnic lunch all prepared. As it’s such a lovely day, we can eat by the lake. But I wanted to bake some cookies for the girls to have later. I’ll just set them cooling before we go.”“Thank you for agreeing to an interview at such short notice, Ms. Rose.”“Please call me Sam.”Nodding acknowledgment, though the boyish name didn’t suit her in the least, he followed her into a spacious old-fashioned kitchen. A huge oak table filled the center of the room. As she wielded a spatula to lift the cookies onto a metal rack, he admired her graceful movements and hoped he’d get one of those cookies, too.He pulled out his small voice recorder and flicked it on. “Do you agree to me recording the interview?”For a fleeting moment, apprehension gleamed in her blue eyes. He’d been right to suspect she wanted to hide something. He filed the observation away.Then she nodded. “Sure. That’s standard procedure, right?”“It makes sure the final article stays factual, which is in your interest. So, the girls are your nieces, staying with you for the summer, correct?” Easy questions he already knew the answer to first, to warm her up.After that glimpse of her in the store, he’d done more research, read right through her website, Perfectly Proverbs 31. All the pictures were of food, flowers and plants in the garden, or two little girls, usually wearing matching print dresses.“Yes. Five-year-old twins, Emily and Rose. I’m minding them while their mom is abroad. I started the blog as a record of these months with them, purely for their mother. I never anticipated it would get as much attention as it has.”Her voice, low and sweet, fell softly on his ear. He didn’t get the sense she hid anything now.An irrelevant question tickled his sense of the ridiculous. “Rose Rose?”Samantha Rose gurgled as she deposited the baking tray in the sink and pulled off her floral mitt. “Thankfully, no. Her name is hard enough for her as it is.”He raised a questioning eyebrow.“Rose still has a slight lisp, so she says her name as Wose. The girls have a different last name than me. And no, I won’t disclose it, to maintain their privacy.”She’d answered a question he had no intention of asking. Memories of the way Dad used pictures of him as a kid in mailouts and promotions for his so-called charity still burned in his gut. “Wise. So where are they now?”Focus on the interview, Novak. Do not reach out and snatch a warm cookie to comfort those memories. No matter how delicious they smell, or how much you want one.“Next door with my neighbors. As I said, I never expected the site would go viral, and I don’t intend to expose them to any more publicity than necessary. The picnic is all ready to go.” She rested a hand on the large lidded basket sitting on the table. “There’s a perfect spot on the lakeshore.”“Sounds fine.”She struggled to lift the basket. “Oops, it’s heavier than I thought since it has everything in it.”“Let me carry it.” Tucking the voice recorder in his shirt pocket, he took the basket from her and needed to brace himself. No wonder she’d struggled. The thing must weigh thirty pounds. Either her idea of a picnic lunch didn’t involve plastic plates, or she had enough food in here to invite all of Sunset Point.Or he seriously needed to consider more time in the gym.Samantha Rose untied her apron and slipped it off, hanging it on a hook behind the door. “I’ll just grab my purse.” She slung a large tote over one shoulder. “I’m ready.”On the porch, she pulled the front door closed but didn’t lock it.“No locks?” He couldn’t hide his surprise.A charming chuckle accompanied the smile she flashed him as she pushed the garden gate open. “I thought the same when I arrived. It seems no one in Sunset Point locks up. I’m told it would be considered downright unneighborly.”Carrying the basket down the hill without pitching forward limited how much breath he had left to talk. “City girl?”“Mostly.” She grinned. “We moved around a lot for Dad’s job, but Mom always managed to create a home in the new place within days. She’s a gifted homemaker. Since moving away from home, I’ve continued the family tradition by going where my past jobs took me, most recently Seattle.”Reaching level ground on Main Street made hauling the picnic basket far easier. She turned right, away from the store.“Right here. I’m glad we could get a table.” She grinned and pointed to the only unoccupied table among the heavy timber picnic settings scattered along the grassy lake bank. “I’m told that mention in the newspaper has doubled visitors to Sunset Point, despite how out-of-the-way it is. Would you put that on the bench?”Relieved, he hefted the basket and deposited it where she asked, then clasped his hands together and stretched out his arms and shoulders. Time to get back to the interview. “You can take all summer off to mind your nieces? Great employer.”Again, she flashed him a bright genuine smile as she opened the basket lid and lifted out a blue-checked tablecloth. “My employer is me. Since I quit my last job and started working for myself, my office can be wherever there’s an internet connection. This summer, I’m working evenings, once the twins are in bed.”Deftly, she shook the tablecloth open, laid it over the table, and clipped weights shaped like dragonflies to each corner. “To stop the breeze blowing it away,” she explained, answering his unspoken question.“What can I do to help?”“Nothing. It’s all done. I only need to lay it all out.” The three thick glass dishes with plastic lids, a set of proper cutlery, cloth napkins, and two Mason jars containing what looked like apple juice explained why the basket weighed so much. “I’ll leave the pie in the basket for now.”She peeled back the lids to reveal the first two dishes contained a mix of salads, nicely presented on a bed of lettuce, while the third held bread rolls.“Looks good.” He meant it.“The vegetables are organic, fresh from the backyard. My neighbor, and her granddaughter who owns the house, had it all planted up before I arrived. You already know Maddie, of course. She and her husband run the store and live behind it, as well as doing the bed and breakfast there.” Frowning at the table, she repositioned a few items. “There, that looks right. I’ll just take a few photos before we eat.” The camera she pulled from her bag looked professional.“Why not let me take the pictures, and then you’ll be in them, too?” Unusually, Meg hadn’t insisted he bring a photographer to the interview, instead suggesting he ask permission to use images from the blog.He wanted at least one of the evasive Ms. Rose.Samantha Rose’s cheeks pinked. “No, none of me. I hate having my photo taken. I won’t bother with photos today. It’s a habit I’ve gotten into. If something looks nice, I photograph it, in case I can use it in a website. I’m a web designer and using my own images means I produce unique pages for my clients.”A plausible enough reason, but her breathy tone and the slightly hunted look in her blue eyes suggested she had other reasons to keep herself out of the photos.His newshound instinct kicked all the way in. Not that he’d let his suspicions show.Raising a hand, he stood back. With a month here, he’d get the photos he wanted some other time. “Take as long as you need. I can wait to eat. Breakfast this morning was twice what I’d have at home.”Her musical chuckle sounded again. “Maddie enjoys looking after her guests. I loved the welcome they gave me — two days’ worth of home-cooked meals, to tide me over till we’d settled in.”He nodded and let her get on with her photos. Food was one thing, but after a few days, all the sweetness and light from his hosts would become cloying.The shots she took weren’t just snapshots. Not with the way she carefully framed and adjusted things. Then she smiled. “There, done! Now we can sit.”Once they were both seated, she spread her napkin in her lap then gazed at him expectantly. What did she want?“Will you give thanks, or shall I?” she asked when the silence stretched uncomfortably long.Give thanks? He hadn’t done that for years and had no idea what he’d say to God if he did. “Uh, how about we each give thanks silently?”She quirked her lips to one side and raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”Instead of praying, he watched her bow her head. Another Christian. He’d figured that already from her blog, with its scattering of Bible verses and mentions of God. If Meg sent him here in the hope he’d regain his lost faith and magically turn into some happy-clappy seeing the best in everyone, she’d be disappointed.Years of exposure to the seedy underbelly of human nature taught him to be cynical.Not to mention, his father. People who called themselves Christians could be the worst hypocrites of all, as if playing the God card gave a get-out-of-jail-free pass.Even Samantha Rose, sweet as she seemed, hid a secret she didn’t want discovered. Somehow, somewhere, she’d lied to the public. His earlier suspicions hardened into certainty.He was here to uncover her lie. And then, let everyone know.


Purchase the Picnics & Promises Collection
About Autumn MacArthur:
Autumn Macarthur is a USA Today bestselling author of clean Christian inspirational romances with a strong touch of faith. If you love happy-ever-afters, sweet romance, and Hallmark movies, chances are you’ll enjoy her stories! Originally from Sydney, Australia, she now lives in a small town not far from London, England, with her husband (aka The Cat Magnet), and way too many rescue cats for their tiny house! You can visit her at her website http://faithhopeandheartwarming.com, on Facebook as Autumn Macarthur, and on Twitter as @autumnmacarthur. She’d love to hear from you!

Picnics & Promises Collection: Zara's Folly (Clare Revell)

The second Picnics & Promises novella in my series of highlights is by one of my fellow Pelican Book Group authors...Clare Revell. I haven't yet read ZARA'S FOLLY, but the following excerpt has me settin' on ready. Way to go, Clare!

Picnics & Promises: Six Delicious Summer Romances


 ZARA’S FOLLY by Clare Revell





British equestrian, Zara Michaels, heads south to convince TJ Greggson to sell his property to her developer father. Any way she can.TJ co-owns the stables, catering to disabled children—his life’s purpose. His brother wants to sell. TJ doesn’t. Can TJ help untangle Zara from her past follies, or will their secrets destroy them both?




Excerpt from ZARA'S FOLLY:
ZARA MICHAELS RAN DOWN THE STAIRS to the platform, praying the train wouldn’t leave before she boarded it. The guard was closing the doors as she reached the train. “Wait,” she called.He turned and held the last door open long enough for her to plunk her case inside and climb in after it. “Have a good trip, miss.”“Thank you.”Somehow she stowed her case and rucksack in the one remaining space on the luggage rack. The automatic doors to the main carriage hissed open. Zara made her way down the already swaying carriage in search of her seat. She’d almost missed the train, thanks to her sister Kim’s incessant meddling, not to mention yet another lecture from her father. One blessing in disguise. At least her forward facing seat was empty. These days not even a reserved sign guaranteed that. And the way the day was going she’d expected to find someone already sitting there.She regarded the old lady in the aisle seat and managed a faint smile. “Excuse me. May I get past you, please?”“Of course, dear.” The old lady stood to allow Zara access to her seat. “Thank you.” Zara suddenly teetered into her seat as the train jolted over the junction points to the main line. She put her handbag on her lap, squashing it between the table and her middle. She turned to the window, pushing her glasses up her nose as the train sped up. The houses and factories of York slid by, becoming sparser before turning into fields and trees as the city was left behind.Zara focused on the window, the trees and forests, fields and streams zipping by. Faster and faster, clickety-clack, the train sped through the English countryside—relentlessly taking her into pastures unknown, but at the same time along a path she knew all too well.“Tickets, please, ladies and gents.”Zara pulled her ticket from her bag, along with the reservation card and held them out to the conductor. He glanced at them and nodded as he handed them back. Zara returned them to her purse. Her phone beeped and she sighed. The photo of Jordan was obscured by a message that read Kim Mob.Can’t you leave me alone for an hour, sis? What do you want now?The message made her heart sink lower. Are you really going to do this? Aunt Agatha loves that place. Tell Dad no more. So what if he disinherits you b/c you want a life of your own and don’t want to do his dirty work anymore? Is the money really more important? Another text quickly followed.Are you there? You made a commitment to Christ, Za. You can’t go back on that and compromise your soul. Then a third message.Call me. Or at least promise me you know what you’re doing. And make sure you call Jordan every night.Zara scowled. “Course I will,” she muttered. “I’d hardly go away and not call, now would I?” She shoved the offensive phone to the bottom of her bag. “Now try bothering me.”The old lady cocked her head and stared at her. “Are you all right, dear?”“Yeah. Tired of my phone beeping.”“My son is always on his phone. He wants me to have one, but I don’t see the need. I’m too old for this face thing or the non-stop chirping. And you miss out on so much with your head constantly peering down at a tiny screen.”“I know what you mean.” Zara settled back in her seat, and crossed her ankles. “Kim, my sister, is permanently attached to hers. I really wish I’d left mine at home. I only use it for calls and texts, nothing else. It’s what she calls a thick phone.”“Thick?”The bloke opposite chuckled over his book.“Not smart like hers. Oh, I can access the internet, email, take photos and so on, but I have a computer at home for that. I don’t need it on my phone as well.” As the old lady rattled on about her son, grandchildren and the weather, Zara studied the man seated opposite her while replying. He was kind of cute with short, slightly wavy dark hair. His dark eyes flitted across the pages, his full lips pursed, his long tanned fingers holding the book almost reverently. Oh, there was something sexy about a man who read. Her gaze slid across his broad shoulders, and down the tanned muscular arms his shirt sleeves didn’t hide. The tan indicated he either lived abroad or worked outside. Going on appearance alone, he was definitely her type.Finally the old lady beside her stopped chatting and fell asleep.Zara sighed with relief. Then whispered a prayer of apology. She should be grateful anyone took the time to speak with her without recognizing her and asking for an autograph.The bloke opposite stood. “Could you watch my things for me for five minutes or so, please?”“Sure.” Zara tried to ignore the goose bumps the sound of his chocolaty-smooth voice raised. She watched him stride down the swaying carriage. Once he was out of sight, she grabbed his book. Taking care not to lose his place, she read the back cover. It sounded interesting and she made a mental note of the title. A historical thriller set during the last war. Exactly the sort of thing she loved to dive into and get lost inside. She laid the book back down, making sure to place it exactly how she’d found it.Tucking her hair behind her ears, she wished she’d thought to have packed something to read, but she’d left in such a rush, she was amazed she’d packed a suitcase for herself. Jordan’s things took up so much more room than her own. All she had in her handbag was a notebook, pen and coin purse. And the phone she hated with a passion. Her Bible and puzzle book were in the case. No way was she unpacking that on a crowded train. Knowing her luck, a pair of her knickers would tumble to the floor. Or worse, that black lace bra she loved so much.She’d left the laptop at home, having closed all her social media accounts that morning. She needed a complete break from everyone and everything—Jordan being the exception, but that was different. Yes, she was still reluctantly working for her father—one last job. She was tired of the way he ran his business and what he expected her to do. She really was tired of helping her father get richer than he already was by scamming their property out of the poor fools. She’d become more and more uncomfortable with that aspect of the job and becoming a Christian made it impossible. She found herself having to compromise more and more, until she reached breaking point.The only way out was to break free. The hold her father had over her, made that impossible. Losing her inheritance didn’t bother her. But Jordan…Kim called it folly. Zara would rather call it… Honestly? She didn’t know what she called it. It wasn’t running away. Reality check maybe? A new beginning? The Lord knew how much she needed one. How much she longed to run away and start over. Somewhere. Anywhere. She wanted someone to accept her, along with her past and the baggage she came with.She heaved a sigh. That wasn’t going to happen any time soon. At least not one that was good enough for her father to approve of the relationship.No, she had to leave. If turning her back on everything in York made her broke so be it. Once this was over, that was it. Done. Dusted. Finito. Perhaps Aunt Agatha would help—or at least have an idea of what to do.Snoring resounded in her left ear, and then the old lady snorted, shifted in her seat and settled down again. The scent of coffee floated through the carriage. At that moment there was nothing in the world Zara wanted more than an infusion of hot coffee. Preferably a large strong one. But there was no chance of that for a while—at least not until her seat mate woke. Did this train even have a buffet car? For all she knew, the aroma could be coming from someone who might have thought ahead and included a thermos flask with their packed lunch.The cute bloke reappeared with a cup in each hand. “I thought you might like a coffee.” A bright smile lit his face. He plonked down the take away cups and slid one across the table. “I could see you weren’t able to get out and it seemed mean to drink in front of you.”She returned his smile. “Thank you. I’m dying of thirst.”“Good job they have plastic lids. I nearly came a cropper on that last set of points.”“That could have been messy.”“You’re telling me.” He reached into his pockets, pulled out several sachets of sugar and creamer and a couple of stirrers. “Almost as messy as dying in your seat from thirst.” She tilted her head and held out a hand. “Well, not literally dying. I’m Zara.”“TJ.” His firm warm grip encompassed her hand for far too short a moment as he slid back into his seat.“How much do I owe you?”“Nothing. Call it a thank you for diverting our sleeping friend from talking my ear off.” Zara gently removed the lid from her cup and inhaled deep of the enticing scent. She ripped open the sugar, tipping one sachet after the next into the hot liquid. “Honestly, I wasn’t really listening. Just nodded and responded in the appropriate places.” She added creamer, stirred, and replaced the lid. She sipped, burning liquid scalding its way down her throat.The train began to slow as it approached Sheffield. The old lady woke, gathered her things and headed to the end of the carriage.Zara glanced after her. “Bye, then,” she said quietly.TJ snorted. “My brother does that. Along with shouting ‘thank you’ when motorists don’t give way at crossings. Or ‘you’re welcome’ when he does something for someone and doesn’t get a thank you in return. One of these days he’s gonna get thumped for doing it.” He set his coffee on the table. “It was a good idea of yours to reserve a seat. I thought I was going to have to stand all the way home before I found this one.”“It was the only train going direct,” she explained. “Well kind of. I have to change once if my aunt can’t collect me. Some of the trains meant changing three or four times, plus a tube trip. I hate the underground with its closed in spaces.”“Me too. You going far?”“Reading, to stay with my aunt.”“Holiday?”She shifted and hid behind her paper cup for a few seconds. “Kind of. What about you?”“Back to work. I’ve been staying with my brother in Scotland for a few days. Trying to persuade him not to sell his half of the business we co-own.” He swigged the coffee. “It didn’t work.”“Can you buy him out?”TJ gave a short, bitter laugh. “I wish. But there’s no way. Someone is coming to value the place on Monday, but even without that valuation I know I can’t afford a mortgage. Sides, we inherited the place together when Dad died.” He wrinkled his nose. “But you don’t want to hear all that.” Zara’s phone beeped. “Excuse me.” She picked it up as TJ went back to his book. The screen read Aunt Agatha. Of course I will pick you up at Reading. Saves changing trains and getting the one to Earley. I’ll meet you on the main concourse. They’ve done away with platform tickets. Something to do with cracking down on people riding trains without paying. Theory being without a ticket you can’t get on the train or platform. Stupid idea if you ask me. If you really want to jump a train you’d find a way, platform ticket or no.Zara grinned. Yup. Looking forward to seeing you. Train gets in around half past four.She tucked the phone away and glanced across at TJ. He was engrossed in his book. Zara leaned against the back of the seat and drained her coffee. Then she closed her eyes. Time for forty winks instead of worrying about the task ahead.

Purchase the Picnics & Promises Collection
About Clare Revell:Clare is a British author. She lives in a small town just outside Reading, England with her husband, whom she married in 1992, their three children, and unfriendly mini-panther, aka Tilly the black cat. Clare is half English and half Welsh, which makes watching rugby interesting at times as it doesn’t matter who wins.Writing from an early childhood and encouraged by her teachers, she graduated from rewriting fairy stories through fan fiction to using her own original characters and enjoys writing an eclectic mix of romance, crime fiction and children's stories. When she's not writing, she can be found reading, crocheting or doing the many piles of laundry the occupants of her house manage to make.Her books are based in the UK, with a couple of exceptions, thus, although the spelling may be American in some of them, the books contain British language and terminology and the more recent ones are written in UK English.The first draft of every novel is hand written.She has been a Christian for more than half her life. She goes to Carey Baptist where she is one of four registrars. She can be found at:http://www.revell124.plus.com/clarerevell/https://www.facebook.com/ClareRevellAuthorhttps://twitter.com/ClareRevellhttp://telscha.blogspot.co.uk/https://uk.pinterest.com/ClareLRevell/https://www.instagram.com/clarerevell/https://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B005NZT2O2https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B005NZT2O2http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=45
If you’d like to receive information on new releases, new covers, and new writing projects, please sign up for my newsletter. I promise I won’t pass your email on to anyone else, you won’t get millions of emails from me – four, maybe six a year if that.

Picnics & Promises Collection: A Pocketful of Wishes (Mary Manners)

My sweet friend, Mary Manners, has released yet another awesome novella as part of an exciting 6-book collection: Picnics & Promises. I'll be highlighting the entire collection here on Chirp 'N Chatter over the next couple of weeks...starting with Mary's book, A Pocketful of Wishes. Enjoy!



Picnics & Promises: Six Delicious
Summer Romances



A Pocketful of Wishes by Mary Manners



As childhood neighbors, Jenna Palmer and Carter Stevens discover first love. When a cross-country job transfer separates them, they promise to one day find each other. Years go by and they lose touch until an accident causes their paths to once again cross. Can their promise stand the test of time, or will time crush their promise…and their love?

~~~~~




Enjoy the following excerpt from A POCKETFUL OF WISHES:

Leavenworth.It sounded like one of the bad words Mom and Dad forbade her to use. How ironic that this new town her parents were determined to drag her to shared the same name as a prison. Because Jenna might as well be going to prison. Her parents were ruining her life.Especially her dad, with his new job. That’s all he’d talked about for weeks now. He didn’t even have time to talk about school anymore, or come to her softball games.When she was still playing softball. Which she couldn’t do anymore, because they were moving to Leavenworth.Just for spite she rolled the word around on her tongue and muttered.Leavenworth…Leavenworth…Tears welled in her eyes as she lifted her gaze to find Carter. Dark, shaggy hair spilled over his forehead, highlighting the dusky pallor of his cheeks. In another month his skin would glow bronze from hours spent in the sun while he helped his dad with their lawn care business. He’d worked beside his father since the summer he’d turned nine. He was fourteen now—nearly four months older than Jenna.Carter swiped the tumble of hair away, revealing eyes the color of rain-slicked river rock—gray with specks of russet along the edges. She’d always loved his eyes. They were one-of-a-kind.Carter closed the trunk and turned to face her.“Don’t cry, Jen.” He grinned ruefully as he jammed his hands into the pockets of his favorite pair of faded jeans. She knew they were his favorite because he’d told her last week while they were eating sundaes together down at Miller’s Ice Cream Parlor following an afternoon of swimming at the community pool. Carter had said the pants probably wouldn’t fit much longer, since he’d launched into another growth spurt, but he’d make them last as long as he could. His folks would be tight on money until the mowing season cranked up to its full stride in a couple of weeks, maybe a month. “Everything’s going to be OK.”“How can this ever be OK?” Jenna’s lower lip trembled and she caught it between her teeth. “I might as well be moving to Mars.”“It’s not that bad. You’ll see.” He shrugged, trying his best to lighten the moment. But his tone told her he was just as miserable. “You can write to me and fill me in on all the fun places on your side of the country.”That sounded forever apart.“I don’t think there are any fun places in Leavenworth.” How could there be, with a name like that? Suddenly her belly roiled like it had last weekend, when Carter jumped from the pool’s high dive and then dared her to do the same. She’d climbed the ladder and inched out to the end of the board. Then a glimpse down into the water had stars dancing in her line of vision as she suddenly felt like she’d pass out. But Carter had gently coaxed her from the pool’s edge, his voice low and raspy, making her believe she could do it. So she did believe, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight and jumped. For a beat of time the breath lodged in her throat, then her squeal could probably be heard into the next county. The adrenaline rush was so cool that, following a congratulatory fist bump from Carter, she went back five more times.But this whole idea of moving cross-country didn’t feel cool. It just felt…awful. She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay right here, with Carter.“Of course there are fun places.” Carter’s eyes betrayed his words. Jenna had known him since they were both in diapers, and right now his forehead was knitted into a frown, his eyes stormy-dark. “You’ll find them. Then you’ll write and tell me all about them.”“Like pen pals?” She placed a hand on his forearm. His skin warmed her chilled fingers. “Sort of like passing notes in class except we have to send them through the mail instead?”They’d done a lot of note passing over the years without getting caught. They were both good at it. Really good.“Yes, like that, only better because we’re already…” He glanced down at her hand resting easily on his arm and offered a sort of lopsided grin. “Best friends…and even maybe more.”“More?” Jenna’s pulse did the same weird sort of leapfrog against her throat as it had when Carter asked her to dance the last slow song at their end-of-school dance. “Do you really think so?”“Um…yeah, I do.”“Me, too.” Jenna’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Will you write back?”“You know I will, Jen.”Carter drew his hands from his pockets and fidgeted for a moment, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. A mockingbird ran through its litany of calls as he took a step closer to her and skimmed his thumb ever-so-gently over her cheek.Jenna closed her eyes and sighed. This was one of his gestures she loved. Her insides dipped and scrambled as if she’d just plunged over the first huge crest of the Screaming Banshee coaster that she and Carter had ridden together at last year’s Labor Day fair.“I don’t want to go,” she murmured on a sob as she opened her eyes again to focus on him. “I really don’t.”“I know.” His lips trembled. “I don’t want you to, either. I’m going to miss you so much, Jen.”
“This can’t be happening.” Jenna gulped back the lump in her throat as tears spilled over to trail down her cheeks. “Tell me it’s just a bad dream, Carter.”“I can’t.” The words were anguished now. His voice cracked, as Jenna knew it tended to when he got upset. “I can’t because it’s more real than a heart attack.”As if to prove the truth in that, Jenna’s parents shuffled from the house. Mom had a tote bag, stuffed full of magazines and knitting supplies, slung over one shoulder. Dad carried a pair of overnight bags. Unlike Jenna, they were both prepared for the journey ahead. It would take six days by car to travel from Maple Ridge to Leavenworth, considering the list of sightseeing detours Dad had tacked onto the trip.Six days…a lifetime.Her parents came down the short flight of steps and, instead of heading straight for the car, went to the side of the house. They disappeared around the corner to check on something. Their voices drifted on the breeze.Jenna swiped at her tears. She had only a few minutes more with Carter. She could hardly bear the thought. Time sped up just as she wished it would come to a screeching halt. She was in a race car with no steering wheel, no emergency brake. The end of the track rushed up to greet her.Why had her dad agreed to take the Chief of Police position in Leavenworth? Wasn’t the sergeant’s position in Maple Ridge good enough for him? She’d heard her parents whispering heatedly to each other behind the closed door of his office and knew there had to be some explanation, but as usual she stood firmly in the dark. Was it too late for Dad to change his mind and let them remain here, where everything was perfect, happy…familiar?With Carter.Jenna had begged and pleaded with her parents, but to no avail. The decision was final.They were leaving.Today. In a few minutes.“Don’t forget me.” Jenna lifted her gaze to capture Carter’s and held tight as his face swam before her. “It’s going to be hard enough not seeing you every day. I couldn’t bear not talking to you, too.”“I won’t ever forget you, Jenna. We’ll see each other again. I promise.” His eyes filled too,and his chest heaved as he struggled with his emotions. “I’ll wait for you.”“Write to me.” She swiped tears from her cheeks. “Every day.”“And twice on Sunday.” He cupped her elbows and leaned in close. Sunlight cocooned them as a gentle breeze ruffled Jenna’s hair. His T-shirt held the scent of summer mingled with citrus from the dryer sheets his mom used. “Every Sunday.”Carter dipped his head, his gaze suddenly softening. His fingers trembled along the nape of her neck as his breath skimmed her cheek.Jenna’s pulse galloped as the universe shifted. Carter was going to kiss her.They’d never kissed, never even really held hands except for the slow dance a few weeks ago. Or when he helped her navigate slick rocks to cross a shallow section of the river.And there was the time they rode the Screaming Banshee together. Then he’d laced his fingers with hers and held tight. In that moment Jenna felt as if she could conquer the world.She wanted to kiss Carter…had wanted to for the longest time.She sensed he wanted to kiss her as much. He shifted slightly and his lips settled ever-so-lightly along her cheek, grazing the spot where his thumb had wandered only moments ago. His touch was so gentle and tender, that no words were needed to communicate all he felt…mirroring all she wished for.A moment or two passed as Jenna held her breath. She tilted her chin and his lips skimmed lower to find hers. As his mouth melded to hers, the softest gasp billowed up from deep inside her. Her heart paused and then quickly recalibrated, turning everything bright and new as the sun burst into a million points of light. As he held her close she inhaled the blend of summer sunshine and fresh-mown grass on Carter’s skin. She bottled the scents that would forever brand him into her memory.Carter.She would experience only a single first kiss in her lifetime, and now that kiss belonged to Carter. No length of time or distance could ever take it away.Forever sealed. Forever ours…together.Her parents’ voices, drawing closer now, carried on the breeze to shatter the tender moment. She turned and spied them heading back around the corner. Reluctantly, she pressed a hand to Carter’s chest. As he stepped back, putting distance between them, an arctic blast sliced through Jenna.“Jenna, it’s time to go,” her mother called. “Say your final goodbyes.”Jenna shivered as another chill swept in.Final…this is final.“No, it’s not.” Carter had developed a knack over the years for sensing what she was thinking. Being next-door neighbors since birth did have its advantages. “This isn’t final. I’ll find you, Jenna, no matter how far away your parents take you. I promise.”“I’ll find you, too.” She nodded stiffly. “I will.”“That should be easy, since I don’t plan on going anywhere. I’ll be right here.” Carter delved a hand into his pocket to retrieve something. He pressed the small, cool object into the palm of her hand. “Take this. Keep it close and I’ll always be with you. Always, Jenna.”
Purchase the Picnics & Promises Collection


About Mary Manners:


Mary Mannersis an award-winning author who has spent a lifetime exploring her joy of writing. She has two sons and a daughter, as well as three beautiful grandchildren. She currently lives along the sunny shores of Jacksonville Beach with her husband Tim.
A former teacher and intermediate school principal, Mary spent three decades sharing her love of learning. While growing up in Chicago Mary worked a variety of jobs including paper girl, figure skating instructor, pizza chef, lifeguard, and nanny. Many of these enriching and challenging experiences led to adventures that add a touch of humor to her stories. Mary loves long sunrise runs, ocean sunsets, and flavored coffee.

Connect with Mary at her website: www.MaryMannersRomance.com. “Like” her author page on Facebook and follow her on Twitter.

Guest Author: Linda Shenton Matchett

When You're at Odds with God
Have you ever found yourself at odds with God? Let’s face it, in any real relationship there are disagreements, and if we’re honest with ourselves, we’ll admit we occasionally have a falling out with God. Times when we’re disappointed about an answer He’s given us or angry about something we think He’s allowed and we can’t fathom why.
God understands when we get upset with him, and I think He welcomes our sincerequestioning, not flippant or disrespectful, but genuine inquiries that come from our hearts. Ruth Brown, the protagonist in my upcoming novel Under Fire, is furious with God for allowing Pearl Harbor and personal tragedies in her life. Throughout the story, she questions Him about incidents that occur. Because she seeks answers, He provides them. Some of the answers are not ones she wants, but He gives her peace to deal with those.
My protagonist, Ruth, is no different than the biblical characters who also struggled with hurt, loss, and injustice. Consider Job who loses everything and asks God what He did to deserve such treatment. How about Gideon? In Judges 6:13, he asks God if He’s with them: “How could this have befallen us?” Both the prophet Jeremiah and Habakkuk questioned God about how He could let things happen to His people. And we can’t forget Moses who quizzed God constantly about what He was thinking. In each of these cases, God responded in love and gave the individual peace about the situation.
Authors are encouraged to write what they know. In order to craft Ruth’s journey from anger to acceptance, I examined my own relationship with God and realized I had unresolved issues about times I felt He had let me down and answers I was upset about. It took a lot of prayer, prayer that involved listening to God’s side. That was the difficult part. I realized that a lot of my conversations with God were actually monologues—me doing most of the talking and very little listening. I came out on the other side with some bumps and bruises (remember Joseph’s wrestling match with the angel of God?). But as a result I have a deeper relationship with God and a fuller understanding of His work in my life.
Are you upset with God? Are you hanging on to past hurts? Are you struggling to understand how He could let something happen that caused you or your loved ones grief? I pray you’ll approach Him with honesty and an open heart, so He can give you the peace he wants you to have.
“O Lord my God, I cried to you for help, and you healed me.” Psalm 30:2

About Under Fire:
Ruth Brown is a small-town journalist whose sister Jane, is pronounced dead after a boating accident in April 1942. Because Jane’s body is missing, Ruth is convinced her sister is still alive. A series of events and discoveries raise Ruth’s suspicions about Jane’s work at the local manufacturing plant. Eventually Ruth follows clues to war-torn London. By the time she manages to uncover the truth about Jane’s disappearance, Ruth has stumbled on black marketers, resistance fighters and the IRA—all of whom may want her dead for what she has uncovered.
About the Author:
Linda Shenton Matchett is a journalist, blogger, and author. Born in Baltimore, Maryland, a stone’s throw from Fort McHenry, Linda has lived in historical places most of her life-from Edison, New Jersey (named for the famed inventor of the lightbulb) and Washington, DC to Wolfeboro, New Hampshire (reputed to be the oldest summer resort in America). A freelance writer for over ten years, her articles and devotionals have appeared in numerous print and online publications. She is a volunteer docent at the Wright Museum of WWII and as a Trustee for the Wolfeboro Public Library. Active in her church Linda serves as treasurer, usher, choir member, and Bible study leader.
Purchase Under Fire

Guest Author: LoRee Peery

Interrupted Plans
In their hearts humans plan their course, but the LORD establishes their steps. Proverbs 16:9 (NIV)Years ago in the New American Standard Bible that rests on my desk, I jotted “writing” next to that verse. In the NASB it reads: The mind of man plans his way, but the LORD directs his steps.In other words, life doesn’t go according to my plans. I can make annual, monthly, weekly, and project goals. I can fill up my calendar with appointments and to-dos and daily tasks. It’s good that I keep busy. However, family, especially my husband, override those plans.Has your life, or your plans, ever been put on hold? As Christians, we’re called to recognize God’s course for our lives at the forefront. We’re also told to put others first.In a marriage, the commitment is for better or worse, in sickness and in health. My hubs has always been my strong protective rock. However, he injured his back in early June. I turned caregiver. We endured two hospital stays, sought and accepted help from family and Christian brothers and sisters. I can honestly say I haven’t been angry that my own health care appointments were put off for the time.At the end of the day, I managed to write in my journal, and always had an errand list. My June writing goals consisted of two guest blogs for posting in July; add a date scene to a specific chapter in my time travel sequel; and dig back into my work-in-progress. The Lord did provide a window of writing moments for me to get to the blogs and added scene.I found it quite interesting that each time I had a few moments to go upstairs to my study for email or check social media, internet service was down. That unexplained intervention affirmed that I was meant to stay near my husband’s side. In the midst of any unplanned event, I can find rest in Jesus. I can wait for the right writing time to open up. I don’t have to turn all “woe-is-me” anxious and wring my hands. Those responses come from the dark one who rules the meanness in the world. I believe God’s promise that my Lord has overcome the world. I have victory in Him.For those who love our heavenly Father, He holds us in the palm of His hand. His way is the best way, even during those times I view my life in a holding pattern. I can truly claim I Peter 5:7—Casting all my anxiety upon Him, because He cares for me. He loves all you readers just as much. He has a path laid out for you that may interrupt well-intentioned plans, so rest in Him.

Mini-Interview:
Your book and you:
What inspired you to write the Frivolities Series?
I didn’t set out to write a series. The heroine, Moselle, is a name that resonated with me because my maiden name is Mosel and no one in the family had used it to name a baby girl.  I’ve always been drawn to reunion stories because there’s often something that remains unresolved over the years. Since Moselle’s mother Geneva and aunt Lanae were established characters, the series kind of evolved. I didn’t have to come up with a new setting and I enjoyed writing about older heroines. At the time Moselle’s Insurance was in progress, one of my critique partners really liked the hero’s ex, so she became the fourth heroine.
About you:
What book are you currently reading?
Just Write by James Scott Bell, and Where They Found Her by Kimberly McCreight
God and you:
Please share your conversion experience, if you’re comfortable doing so.
I grew up attending church, we prayed at meals and bedtime, and I went through Catechism classes so I was familiar with the Bible. The church was denominational and stress was never put on knowing Jesus in a personal relationship. To me, God had always been the creator of the world and I had no trouble believing He sent Jesus to die for my sins. For some reason I figured all I had to do was ask to be forgiven and I’d go to heaven.
The year 1975 was pivotal in my life. We bought an acreage, my father was murdered, our son born, and we built our country home with our own hands. My husband fell off the roof and crushed both heels, which drove me to read the Bible while waiting for his surgery and through recovery.
I was invited to attend a luncheon April 20, 1976, where the Lord used that speaker, whose name I never remembered, to hit me right in the heart. After all the blessings that overrode tragedy of the previous year, it was clear to me that Jesus was missing from my life. I expressed my belief, acknowledged my sin, and asked Him to take over because I couldn’t do it myself. From that day forward, I have strived to seek Him, thus discovering His will for my life. To me Isaiah 12:2 says it all. Behold, God is my salvation, I will trust and not be afraid; for the Lord God is my strength and Song, and He has become my salvation. (NASB)
About LoRee:Christian romance author LoRee Peery attempts to see God’s presence every day. Often that gift comes from nature, when the call of a cardinal draws her to look for the distinctive flash of crimson. A meadowlark’s melody always transports her to the farm where she grew up. A rainbow holds special significance, since one appeared over her father’s grave the day of his funeral, assuring her of the Lord’s presence. She clings to 1 John 5:4 and prays her blended family and dozen grandchildren see that faith.Website
Links:AmazonFacebookPelican Book Group


Frivolities Series:

Guest Author: Bethany Kaczmarek

How Can I Get Up From Here?
I imagine there are many people who feel like Kasia Bernolak has—caught somewhere between pretending to be doing well and sitting in a corner crying. Alone.
The heroine of my book, Strains of Silence, says it’s the worst at church, when she ought to be an encouragement to others, but she’s running on empty. Add to that the pressure to be strong, to be a pastor’s daughter, or a missionary—it becomes hard to say “I’m not okay.”
And even if her mouth would willingly form the words, people don’t hear what she means.Her “I’m struggling today” gets a response like she’d just said she has the sniffles.
“Yeah, that’s going around.”
Once, she said she felt depressed, and a woman told her to focus on what was true and noble and right. [That’s not always wrong advice, but sometimes, things are happening to a person’s mind and body that make it impossible for them to think of anything except surviving. Or dying.]
The thing is, since believers are supposed to be ready to give an answer for the hope that we have, we get uncomfortable when one of us says they feel hopeless.
Hear me.
First, if someone shows up and speaks honestly about struggles and pain and suffering, let’s not blow it off the table like so much dust. Let’s listen. Let’s take it in quietly, even take a moment to pray before we respond. And let’s let our first words be something along the lines of weeping with those who weep. And let’s be deeply thankful that they’ve managed to get themselves motivated enough to be around others, to speak the words that are so hard to say.
It’s so much easier to hide.
Now, for you hurting people.
Find one quiet listener. (I am one, if you live near me.)
And speak.
The.
Words.
Whisper them if you have to. Share the burden your soul carries. Share it with Jesus, and share it with someone who can be His arms and hands and feet in this world. Who can stand beside you and hug you. But break the silence. The church is full of imperfect, hurting people. And it’s okay to be real about that.
“Bear one another’s burdens…” Galatians 6:2.

About Bethany's Book: He can’t save her from her past, but he can wait to be her future.Music was her driving passion and the truest expression of her faith, but three months before her wedding, twenty-year-old Kasia Bernolak can’t even pick up her guitar. Feeling like a fraud who will ruin her dad’s pastoral reputation, she can barely meet his eyes. When Kasia finds the strength to break off her engagement, she still doesn’t realize the dangerous truth: Blake Hamilton isn’t ready to say goodbye. And he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her.Alexander “Zan” Maddox has seen what a domineering man can do to an unsuspecting woman, and Zan is sick of injustice. He gave up a college baseball scholarship so he could protect his sister from her abusive husband. When he rescues Kasia from her ex-fiancé, he instinctively appoints himself her personal bodyguard. Now, all he has to do is keep from falling for her himself.Kasia and Zan become fast friends, but true healing and justice might cost more than either of them is willing to pay.To pre-order your copy, click here.About Bethany:
Bethany Kaczmarek loves to share her own journey of healing and redemption with anyone who needs it. Back from the Polish mission field where she and her husband worked with college students for six years, their home is often filled with twenty-somethings who come over for a listening ear (though she’s willing to admit it could also be for the board games and food). Other job titles: Wielder of Red Pens, Grammar Ninja, Wiper of Tears and Milk, Indie Music Connoisseur, and Friend. Bethany writes about places where grit meets Grace. Find out more about her at www.bethanykaczmarek.com Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Tumblr  |  Instagram  |  Pinterest 

Guest Author: Karin Beery

Identifying Your Theme (When You Don’t Think You Have One)

Several months ago I agreed to write this blog post, then I tucked the information away and forgot about it until a reminder popped up in my calendar. Then I looked back at my notes: something related to my manuscript’s theme.What?Why did I agree to this? I write romance novels. There’s no theme, they’re just romance stories.Having already committed to the post, however, I re-evaluated my current manuscript (as well as others I’ve already completed) to see if I could find a theme. At first, I didn’t see any connections. A couple of my books have an obvious Christian theme. The rest, however, are clean reads: girl meets boy, they fall for each other, circumstances keep them apart, it works out, happily ever after. That’s not a theme, though – that’s the standard romance formula.Are my stories theme-less?Then I looked at the pitches I’ve written for each story, and I looked at the goals-motivations-conflicts for my heroines. That’s when I started to see the correlation. The conflicts! My leads all have something in common: the woman struggling to recover after being manipulated; the woman trying to deal with a sudden death and revelation of dishonesty; the woman who’s personal and professional lives are steeped in disappointments.Regardless of whether or not the stories contain strong spiritual elements, they share a common theme: trust.It’s more than simply faith in God or mankind – it’s easy to believe in a higher power or the greater good. Trust, however, requires a conscious decision to act on that faith. I hadn’t noticed it until I agreed to write this post, but trust has made its way into all of my stories.That shouldn’t surprise me. Proverbs 3:5-6 have been guiding verses in my life for years: Trust in the Lord with all your heart;
do not depend on your own understanding.
Seek his will in all you do,
and he will show you which path to take. (New Living Translation)I never thought my novels would be thematic, but it looks like they are. I didn’t want to admit to it at first, but now I’m proud of it. Trust is a foundational principle in Scripture. It’s how we’re called to act, and it’s not an easy thing to do (if it were, everyone would do it). Still, I’ve managed to incorporate it into my stories, adding a layer of complexity and relatability to my leading ladies, even if I did do it subconsciously.

About Karin:

Karin Beery – Writer. Editor. Novelist. Karin writes contemporary and speculative fiction with a healthy dose of romance. When she’s not writing fiction, she’s editing or writing business copy through her business Write Now Editing & Copywriting Services. And when she’s not doing either of those, she teaches – she’s currently teaching Substantive Editing for Fiction through the PEN Institute. You can connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, or at her website, www.karinbeery.com.

Guest Author: Toni Shiloh

Trust Proverbs 3:5-6 (KJV)—“Trust in the Lordwith all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.” Trust. It’s something that many of us deal with in our faith journey. In my novel, Finding Love, Delaney Jones is no different. Her husband died serving his country as an Army solider. Then Delaney meets one of his comrades and a spark is lit. But Luke is in the Army, doing the same job that cost her husband his life.How can she trust that all will work out for good?That’s probably one of the most difficult aspects in our faith journey. Often, we want a guarantee from the Lord that our life will be one of smooth sailings and sunshine. That we’ll wake up each morning with joy and ready to sing praises. Unfortunately, we live in a fallen world and sunshine isn’t a daily guarantee. That’s where trust comes in. We have to trust that God is who He says He is. We have to trust that He’s never broken a promise. That He has our best interest in heart. And man, oh man, is that hard to do. For every promise we’ve heard, we can come up with a situation where it appeared that God broke it. Yet our ways are not His ways, including our understanding. It’s why Proverbs cautions us not to look at life through our own lens. We cannot comprehend the good God wants to do in our life, especially when all we see is bad. But it takes a leap of faith. We have to take a deep breath and make the decision to trust God. To remember all the times He came through, answered a prayer, provided for us, and loved us through our journey. If we forget those times, it’s very easy for distrust to build. Sit down daily and thank Him for the blessings He has showered upon you. Make a memory jar or list so that when times get tough—because eventually a season of trials will come—you’ll remember why He’s trustworthy.About Finding Love:
Delaney Jones has finally started to pick up the pieces of her shattered life after the death of her husband, Parker. Just as she adjusts to a new normal, in walks Army soldier, Luke Robinson. When she finally makes the decision to trust him, the world deals her a heavy blow. Sergeant First Class Luke Robinson can’t get over his part in the death of Delaney’s husband. Hoping to assuage his guilt, he offers to lend a hand. He never counted on the feelings she evokes with just a smile. Will his secrets widen the gulf, or will he finally find absolution?Buy link: http://amzn.to/2r2NmFZ About Toni:
Toni Shiloh is a wife, mom, and Christian fiction writer. Once she understood the powerful saving grace thanks to the love of Christ, she was moved to honor her Savior. She writes to bring Him glory and to learn more about His goodness.She spends her days hanging out with her husband and their two boys. She is a member of the American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) and president of the Virginia Chapter.You can find her on her website at http://tonishiloh.weebly.comSocial media links: Facebook            Google+ Pinterest             Instagram Goodreads          Bookbub LinkedInBlogs Toni participates in: 
http://puttingonthenew.com ; http://heartwingsblog.com; http://diversitybetweenthepages.wordpress.com; www.acfwvirginia.com/blog

Six FREE Pure Amore Novels in Kindle format! July 5-9 ONL...

Six FREE Pure Amore Novels in Kindle format! July 5-9 ONLY. Get 'em while you can!
Battle of the Flowers: https://www.amazon.com/Battle-Flowers-Amore-Ro…/…/B01MYYIAVMAt First Sight: https://www.amazon.com/At-First-Sight-Romance-…/…/B01N1QVJH9Date Night: https://www.amazon.com/Date-Night-Amore-Romanc…/…/B01MXWXXS6Just One Kiss: https://www.amazon.com/Just-One-Kiss-Romance-E…/…/B00WH0TFDOWhen Hope Rises: https://www.amazon.com/When-Hope-Rises-Romance…/…/B01N1R4JMZSimple Blessings: https://www.amazon.com/Simple-Blessings-Amore-…/…/B01MTZOUOV