Pamela S. Thibodeaux's Blog, page 13

#WednesdayWordswithFriends Welcomes Sharon J. Mondragón (@SJ_Mondragón)!

Good Morning from Sam Rayburn Lake!

It's another rainy morning here. Monday was beautiful and we got some fishing in but yesterday and today is too windy and wet. But just getting away from the house is wonderful and restful after last week's craziness LOL! I brought Nora Roberts' Inn Boonsboro trilogy and have read 2 so far. The 3rd is scheduled for today. Reading these books reminds me of my visit to Boonsboro, MD which I shared here. 

'Nuf about me though, today's guest is brand new to our blog, brought to us by Audra Jennings PR so please give Sharon Mondragon a warm, W-E-L-C-O-M-E!

The Secrets of the Wrinkles

A few years ago, my granddaughter was having a conversation with an adult cousin about old people. The cousin commented that old people can be set in their ways, to which Marleigh replied, “They also hide secrets in their wrinkles.”

My first response to this was the awe and pride of a writerly grandma at the sheer poetry of Marleigh’s observation. Poetry lends itself to reflection and contemplation, teasing out the many and ever-deeper meanings of a particularly compelling line. As I’ve thought about this line over the last several years, it has become, for me, a call to action.

I’ve paid attention to the wrinkles in people’s faces since I was a young woman shopping in military commissaries. I was particularly interested in the faces of the retiree wives I encountered there. I could see how they had spent their lives by their wrinkles. I could tell, from the way deep lines had settled around their mouths, that some had spent their entire adult lives angry and displeased. Others had spent most of their lives smiling and laughing, if the lines at the corners of their eyes were any indication. Sometimes I would stop one of those women and tell her, “I hope I look like you when I’m old.” Those faces in which the lines had fallen in pleasant places reminded me to smile and laugh often, so I would look like them someday.

As I’ve aged, however, I’ve come to understand that there is more to this wrinkle thing than I thought. My life is now rich with experience: victories and defeats, joys and sorrows, confusion and aha moments, the perspective that only years of living can give. These lines in my face have stories to tell and wisdom to impart.  In our youth-oriented culture, “the wrinkle crowd” tends to be dismissed. Many of us can’t even text, much less tweet, so what in the world do we have to offer (besides babysitting the grandkids)?

And so, we hide all that we have learned about living in the wrinkles in our faces, from generations sorely in need of all we have concealed there. Some of us even try to hide the wrinkles with miracle creams and Botox injections, trying to appear as clueless and carefree as those who are younger. 

They may be clueless, but they are far from carefree. Young people these days are battling more anxiety than I ever remember feeling in my twenties. They don’t have the perspective of having lived through any number of difficulties and come out the other side, maybe battered, maybe bruised, but with a better idea of their strengths and weaknesses, of their mettle and their courage. This is where the wrinkle crowd comes in. We’ve already been through many of the things that worry them. We’re living proof that setbacks are not the end of the world and can even be the beginning of something new and wonderful that we might never have dreamed of otherwise.

We can come alongside, not to deliver the “when I was your age” lectures we gave our teenagers, but as a steady, praying, and reassuring presence that communicates, “Yes, this is hard. You’re not alone. I’m here. Let’s pray and see what God will do.”

When I was the middle-aged mother of a couple of troubled teens, the denizens of the early service at my church listened patiently to my tale of woe. They never turned a hair, no matter how wild the tale of my sons’ misbehavior. I could rest in their wrinkles long enough to think clearly. Steeped in their love and steadiness, I gathered the courage and wisdom I needed to address the situation, day after day, week after week.

We the Wrinkle Crowd have blazed the trail and our wrinkles are living proof that we’ve endured the scorching sun of adversity on the way. Let us not forget those who trudge behind us, but look back to see them, cheer them on, pray them over the rough terrain. Our wrinkles are a treasure map and it’s time we shared the secrets of how to find the riches of courage, patience, and faith.

Sharon J. Mondragón writes about the place where kindness and courage meet. Her debut novel, The Unlikely Yarn of the Dragon Lady (originally titled The Heavenly Hugs Prayer Shawl Ministry) was the 2017 winner of the American Christian Fiction Writers Genesis award in the Short Novel Category, and she has also been recognized by The Saturday Evening Post where her short story, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” was an Honorable Mention Awardee in the 2014 their Great American Fiction Contest.

Mondragón has been active in prayer shawl ministry since 2008 and currently serves as facilitator for the prayer shawl ministry at her church, St. Paul Episcopal in Waxahachie, TX. She also knits with the Circle of Healing at Red Oak United Methodist Church. She is a Level 2 Certified Knitting Instructor through the Craft Yarn Council and teaches beginning knitting at a local yarn store.

Mondragón is the mother of five grown children and has four grandchildren. After 26 years as an Army wife, she has settled in Midlothian, TX with her hero/husband, her laptop, and her yarn stash.

Visit Sharon Mondragón’s website and blog at www.sharonjmondragon.com and follow her on Facebook (Sherry Mondragón) and Twitter (@SJ_Mondragón).

Her debut novel, The Unlikely Yarn of the Dragon Lady is available at Amazon, ChristianBook.com and other places where great Christian fiction is sold.

#SaturdaySpotlight is on Barbara Britton @BarbaraMBritton & Jerusalem Rising!

Good Morning,

Well graduation ceremonies are over (for me) and my birthday has passed. I don't feel old enough to have a granddaughter and great-niece graduating high-school but the numbers don't lie...born in 61 & 61 yrs young. 😁 

'Nuf about me, let's welcome Barbara Britton back with her book, Jerusalem Rising! Take it away Barbara....

Thank you for having me back on the blog, Pam.
Recently, I taught chapel to elementary students at a Christian school. I spoke on the Bible building contractor Nehemiah. When I asked the students what Nehemiah was famous for, they knew he rebuilt Jerusalem’s wall. What they didn’t know is that Nehemiah had been on his knees praying long before he made the journey to Jerusalem to restore the glorious city.
Nehemiah was cupbearer to King Artaxerxes and lived in the palace at Susa, far from his hometown of Jerusalem. When Nehemiah’s brother brought the report about Jerusalem’s wall being in disrepair and the gates burned, Nehemiah became sad. The Bible tells us he fasted and prayed. (Nehemiah 1:4)
Nehemiah was so sad about the news; his face was downcast in front of the king. A big no-no that could get you killed. Artaxerxes inquired about Nehemiah’s sadness and when Nehemiah replied, the king asked, “What is it you want?”
Nehemiah shot an arrow prayer to God for guidance. (Nehemiah 2:4)
Eventually, Nehemiah heads to Jerusalem to rebuild the city with the king’s blessing. The king also bestowed wood from the royal forest, letters of passage, and a cavalry for protection. Not bad for the cupbearer turned construction manager. Nehemiah’s troubles aren’t over because lots of bad guys show up. A writer’s dream! With all this drama, I couldn’t resist writing a book based on Nehemiah, chapters 1-8.
“Jerusalem Rising” follows the daughters of Shallum as they help restore the wall around Jerusalem. The reference to these women wall builders can be found in Nehemiah 3:12.Nehemiah needs all the help he can get!
Book blurb:When Adah bat Shallum finds the governor of Judah weeping over the crumbling wall of Jerusalem, she learns the reason for Nehemiah's unexpected visit—God has called him to rebuild the wall around the City of David.
Nehemiah challenges the people of God to labor on the wall and in return, the names of their fathers will be written in the annals for future generations to cherish. But Adah has one sister and no brothers. Will her father, who rules a half-district of Jerusalem, be forgotten forever?
Adah bravely vows to rebuild her city's wall, though she soon discovers that Jerusalem not only has enemies outside the city, but also within. Can Adah, her sister, and the men they love, honor God's call? Or will their mission be crushed by the same stones they hope to construct?
Excerpt:“So that is why you came?” Adah shifted her lamp. “Not to collect taxes but to set up an office here and bring in workers to rebuild the wall?”
He nodded. “You found me inspecting the wall tonight. The City of David will be a stronghold again.” The shadows dancing on his face could not soften his stare, which bore into her gaze like a hammered tent peg. “This wall will rise and these gates will be secured. God has made it clear to me what we must do.”
She trusted God. Or at least she had before her mother’s eyesight darkened. A year ago, she had prayed for a miracle from God for her mother. No healing came. And where was the rain? She had prayed for showers for the fields. Othniel had prayed. Her father had prayed. The soil remained parched. People went hungry. But if Nehemiah had truly heard God’s voice, perhaps Adonai was showing His favor to His people once again. “When will the stone masons arrive?” She didn’t know much about resurrecting a wall, but the king had renowned craftsmen.
“King Artaxerxes gave me letters for safe passage and a leave from the palace. I have access to the forests in the south. But as for workers, those already living here will secure this city.”
Her shoulders sagged. “We have no army. The drought has left families without food and coin—
“Adah.” His address held a tone of chastisement. “Do you believe in God’s provision? In answered prayer?”
“Uh, yes.” Her answer was not resounding, yet it was true. Once. She rolled back her shoulders and stood soldier straight. Gershom’s insult of her family would not stand. “Whatever you need from the household of Shallum, we will provide it for you.”
Barbara M. Britton lives in Southeast, Wisconsin and loves the snow—when it accumulates under three inches. She writes Christian Fiction from Bible Times to present day. Her Tribes of Israel series brings little-known Bible characters to light. She also authored a WWI Historical set in Alaska. Barbara has a nutrition degree from Baylor University but loves to dip healthy strawberries in chocolate. Find out more about Barb’s books on her website, barbarambritton.com, or follow her on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. 

You can purchase Jerusalem Rising  on Amazon, B&N, or wherever books are sold and check out Barbara's previous posts HERE. 
Great story, Barbara, thanks for sharing! Wishing you ALL the best of luck and God's blessings.
Until next time, friends, take care and be Blessed. PamT

#WednesdayWordswithFriends Welcomes @LoreePeery LoRee Peery!

Good Morning Friends and Welcome!

It's been a crazy, full week for me and the running won't stop until after Memorial Day, therefore I'm only going to give you a brief rundown before letting LoRee take over the blog today.

Sunday I went to my great-niece's birthday/graduation party, Monday went to my granddaughter's awards ceremony, Tuesday granddaughter's graduation ceremony. This morning I'm attending my grandson's awards ceremony. Tomorrow I'm going to the Annual Law Enforcement Memorial Service for Iowa PD to honor Terry then going to my great-niece's graduation that evening. Friday I get a day of rest. Saturday is Bayou Writer's group meeting and my granddaughter's graduation party then on Sunday or Monday I'm going to Sam Rayburn Lake for a few days, driving back on Thursday for grandson's birthday on Friday (27th) then back to the lake until Sunday (30th) after which I'll go to my daughter's house for a few days since they will be out of town. 

Yeah...I'm exhausted just thinking about it, but don't worry, Saturday Spotlight will still go on and this week's guest is Barbara Britton so even if I'm crazy busy, y'all stop by and browse.

Now, onto our guest.... Take it away LoRee....

Worship through Verse
Most of us hear the word worship and think of singing during a church service. Not particularly so. We don’t need a location to seek the Lord. Worship happens anywhere that involves spirit and truth.
Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks (John 4:23 NIV).
“In spirit,” means submission of the human spirit, according to verse 24, “God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in the Spirit and in truth.” In order to worship the One True God, a person must have an intimate relationship with Jesus Christ, God’s Son. Jesus is the only way to the Father. Once we repent and acknowledge our need for a Savior, we receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. Thus, we are able to worship in spirit and in truth.
As His children, God is with us in the Spirit no matter what time of day or night we call on Him. By worshiping Him through reading the truth of His Word, the Bible, He works through me. I can’t write a thing that honors Him unless I admit I need His help.
No “me, me, me”  But Jesus, Jesus, Jesus    He’s worthy of all …
All my love  All my energy    All my worship.
My last visit here on a Wednesday, I talked about a journal of modern-day verse that I penned, “Worship through Verse.” I cherish the pictures of my volume on coffee tables I’ve seen where loved ones worship in their living rooms or at their kitchen tables, using those verses as a devotional to supplement worship.In other words, we can worship anywhere and at any time, as long as we worship in the Spirit and in truth.
Psalm 95:5-6The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land.Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker.
Country Worship
God’s breath on the breezeKisses my soul, my spirit
Dirt beneath my feetReminds me God made Adam
The heavenly sky above meIs where Jesus will appear
The songs of earth and skyMade by God’s holy breath
My soul soars in praiseWhat an awesome God is He
I thank God I’m a country girlWhere I’m free to sing out loud
Heart and breath on the breezeHeart and voice free to worship.
Psalm 100:2 reads: Worship the LORD with gladness; come before him with joyful songs.
Nebraska country girl LoRee Peery writes fiction that hopefully appeals to adult readers who enjoy stories written from a Christian perspective, focusing on the romance. These include novels and novellas for women and men in the Contemporary, Romance, Historical, Time Travel, and Mystery/Suspense categories. She writes of redeeming grace with a sense of place. Her Frivolities Series launched her releases, and the book based on her father’s unsolved homicide, Touches of Time, was a personal relief. She is who she is by the grace of God: Christian, country girl, wife, mother, grandmother and great-, sister, friend, and author. Connect with LoRee: www.loreepeery.com 
https://www.facebook.com/LoReePeery 
Find her publications at Pelican Book Group http://tinyurl.com/kwz9enk 
And Amazon https://www.amazon.com/LoRee-Peery/e/B004UAGL2W/ref 
LoRee's novel, Touches of Time is based on her father's unsolved murder of April, 1975. LoRee fictionalized the story, and solved the cold case on paper. Get your copy HERE and check out LoRee's previous posts HERE.

Wow, what lovely verse you've shared with us, LoRee! We certainly thank you and wish you the best of luck and God's blessings as you continue penning words of praise and worship to our Lord!

Hope you enjoyed the post, friends. If you haven't signed up for my newsletter (which goes out tomorrow, do so because I'm doing something special for my subscribers.

Until next time take care a be blessed!

PamT

#SaturdaySpotlight is on Erica Vetsch The Debutante’s Code!

Good Morning Friends,

Graduation craziness begins tomorrow and runs thorough next Saturday so you won't hear much from me other than to announce today's guest, Erica Vetsch with her latest novel, The Debutante’s Code.

Take it away Erica....

Jane Austen meets Sherlock Holmes in this new Regency mystery series
Newly returned from finishing school, Lady Juliette Thorndike is ready to debut in London society. Due to her years away, she hasn’t spent much time with her parents, and sees them only as the flighty, dilettante couple the other nobles love. But when they disappear, she discovers she never really knew them at all. They’ve been living double lives as government spies--and they’re only the latest in a long history of espionage that is the family’s legacy.
Now Lady Juliette is determined to continue their work. Mentored by her uncle, she plunges into the dangerous world of spies. From the glittering ballrooms of London to the fox hunts, regattas, and soirees of country high society, she must chase down hidden clues, solve the mysterious code her parents left behind, and stay out of danger. All the while, she has to keep her endeavors a secret from her best friend and her suitors--not to mention the nosy, irritatingly handsome Bow Street runner, who suspects her of a daring theft.
Can Lady Juliette outwit her enemies and complete her parents’ last mission?
Excerpt: London Docks January 31, 1816
“If you lean out any farther, you’ll wind up in the drink. Which, I suppose, would be a fitting end to this disaster of a trip.” Lady Juliette Thorndike ducked her chin and turned away from the fresh breeze, the deck rocking gently under her feet. Her heart pounded beneath her woolen cloak as she reached the end of one journey and anticipated embarking on a wholly new one.
“I just want to be there. "e last twenty yards is taking longer than the entire voyage.” As always when in high emotion, Agatha Montgomery, Juliette’s best friend, used her adept skills in hyperbole. She leaned over the taffrail of the Adventuress as the ship eased into its berth, and her wide green eyes bounced from the wharf to the cranes to the warehouses. “I cannot believe we made it. I never want to endure a journey like this again.”
Nor did Juliette. Their trip from Switzerland to London had been fraught with delays and discomforts, putting them a fortnight behind their expected arrival date.
But now they were moments from stepping on their native heath. Her beloved England. She was finally home. Searching the quayside, she hoped to see a familiar face, but though people thronged the wharf, all were strangers. Not that she was completely au fait with the family she hoped would meet her, having been away from home for so long. She had completed her schooling and would within the hour be back in the embrace of her parents, ready to begin her new life.
Men shouted, Zinging ropes across the narrowing expanse of water, and with a jolting bump, the Adventuress docked. Juliette inhaled the scents of tar, hemp, wet wood, and smoke. The rigging creaked, and waves lapped against the pilings. Cold mist hung in the air, remnants of last night’s fog, no doubt. But the sun, weak as it was on this last day of January, hovered overhead as if determined to burn o! the dampness.
“Ladies, the gangway will be fixed soon, and your belongings will be the first off, as I promised.” The captain, a desiccated stick of a man with so many creases on his sea-weathered face it was difficult to make out his features, paused on his way forward. “If you’ll remain here out of the way, we’ll see you off right smart.” He touched his hat brim and sketched a small bow.
The Adventuress was a cargo ship, ill equipped for passengers, but the captain had made an exception for them in Genoa when they’d discovered their original vessel had sailed without them. The first mate had vacated his tiny cabin—albeit with poor grace—to accommodate the girls. Juliette had joked that the berth was so small, they had to go out into the corridor to change their minds.
“You do think someone will be here to greet us, don’t you? Even though we’re late and on the wrong ship?” Agatha’s brow puckered. She’d voiced the same concern throughout the journey.
“If no one is there to meet us, we’ll get ourselves home. We’re grown women now and certainly capable of getting from one side of London to the other.” Juliette raised her chin. “If we can live in a foreign country for years and travel alone from Switzerland to England, we can navigate the last short stretch.” Weariness dragged at her heart. It seemed she had been on her own for such a long time. She longed to be in the care of someone else for a while, to have her parents there to look after her, to help guide her in decision-making, to give her the feeling of home and comfort she had missed since the moment she’d left Heild House, their country estate in Worcestershire, for school seven long years ago.
“But we’re not supposed to be traveling on our own. That’s the problem. Our chaperone abandoning us partway to the port was a near disaster. What my father will say, I’m sure I don’t know. He paid good money for an escort, and look what happened.” Agatha’s mouth tightened, as it often did when speaking of her father. From her description he was a man of moods and given to expressing them boldly. His rare letters to his daughter over the years had been terse and more often than not dictated to his secretary at one of the mills he owned.
“He cannot blame either of us, and if he’s thinking at all, he should applaud our independence and bravery. Frau Hecht was not a good choice of chaperone, and I’m sure our parents will communicate their displeasure to the academy.” Frau Hecht and the three men hired to take the girls to the port city of Genoa and aboard the correct ship had been in league with one another. They had taken their fees and money for traveling expenses and then abandoned their charges in the city of Turin, forcing the girls to find their own way from there.
“Ladies.” The first mate, who always spoke as if clenching a mouthful of nails in his teeth, stuck out his arm, stiff as a spar, pointing to the gangway. There had been quite a set-to when the captain had agreed to take them on as passengers, led by the first mate. Something about women on a ship being bad luck? Tosh and twaddle. Juliette would be glad to see the back of him.
Holding her skirt with one hand and anchoring her hat with the other, Juliette made her way down the wooden slope that had no rails, her mouth in her throat until her feet touched the rimed cobbles of the wharf.
The sense of peace she had anticipated didn’t come. Instead, the anxiety that had dogged her every mile of the journey remained. There were still so many questions, so much to do until she could feel settled at home. Her parents had expected her to arrive a fortnight ago. They couldn’t know of all the troubles that had waylaid the girls. Had her parents come to the dock day after day hoping for her arrival, or had they dispatched someone to look for her?
Agatha bumped into Juliette’s back. “Your pardon. The stones are slippery.” She righted her bonnet. Lean and coltish, Agatha stood six inches taller than Juliette, and she constantly hunched her shoulders, keeping her head bowed in an effort to disguise her height. “Do you see anyone we know?”
Stevedores, teamsters, and sailors abounded. Bales, barrels, and bundles blocked anyone from walking in a straight path. “No.”
“What should we do?” Agatha clutched Juliette’s arm.
What indeed? Juliette had talked a good yarn about getting themselves across London, but how did one go about it? “We can inquire at the shipping office, I suppose. To see if our families have sent word or instructions.”
Which only left the small issue of finding the headquarters for the ship they had been scheduled to travel upon but which had left them behind when they didn’t arrive on time.
Before she could take a step, a long hand snaked out of the jostling crowd and latched onto her wrist. Startled, she jerked back, bundling into Agatha, who shrieked. Heads swiveled and bodies jostled, and Juliette whacked down on the clutching hand with an instinctive chop.
Erica Vetsch is a New York Times best-selling and ACFW Carol Award–winning author. She is a transplanted Kansan now living in Minnesota with her husband, who she claims is both her total opposite and soul mate.
Vetsch is the author of many novellas and novels, including the popular Serendipity & Secrets Regency series and the new Thorndike & Swann Regency Mystery series
Vetsch loves Jesus, history, romance, and sports. When she’s not writing fiction, she’s planning her next trip to a history museum and cheering on her Kansas Jayhawks and New Zealand All Blacks.
Learn more about Erica Vetsch and her books at www.ericavetsch.com. She can also be found on Facebook (@EricaVetschAuthor) and Instagram (@EricaVetsch).

The Debutante's Code can be purchased at Amazon, ChristianBook.com, and anywhere else great Christian fiction can be found!
Check out Erica's previous posts HERE.
Sounds like another great read for fans of Julie Klassen, Sarah Ladd, and Anne Perry!
See you next week for Wednesday Words with Friends and Saturday Spotlight!
Until then....take care and be blessed. PamT

#WednesdayWordwithFriends Welcomes @LizFlaherty1 Liz Flaherty!

Good Morning Friends,

You may have heard Liz Flaherty mentioned here on the blog before as a gift card winner Sept 2020, but she has never been a guest so please offer her a huge SW Louisiana W...E...L...C...O...M...E!

I kept looking at today’s date in my datebook when I chose it to be a guest on Pam’s blog. And looking. What was so familiar about it? Why did it matter? On a gloomy and wet April morning, I remembered. And, for a couple of moments there, I was sad.
My senior-in-high-school boyfriend and I had a fraught relationship. I was the one who liked more, tried harder, cried copious tears over every argument, and thought life would probably end if we weren’t together forever. On May 11, two weeks before both of our graduations, we went to his prom. I can’t remember now why we went to his instead of mine, but that was how it worked out. I loved my dress, hated my hair, and was soooo excited.
But, you know, it wasn’t fun. We as a couple weren’t fun, either. Although we laughed that night, I knew in my heart of hearts that we were done. He’d asked me to the prom coming off of a fight, and I think he’d regretted it. Retrospect is so 20/20, isn’t it?
It was the last date we had. I only saw him a few times after that, after we’d both married. I was happy. I don’t know if he was, although I hope so. The reason May 11 stuck out in my mind was that it was a day that changed the rest of my life. It was when I learned (although I would have to relearn it again and again) that the word relationship requires more than one active member. 
In a sweet but not quite inspirational romantic novel, Life’s Too Short for White Walls , Joss leaves her 25-year marriage when her husband falls in love with her sister. Bewildered by a new beginning she didn’t want, she drives to her grandparents’ farm in Banjo Bend, Kentucky, not even sure it was still there but knowing she needed to be in a safe place. She can’t even begin to think of trusting another person with her heart.
But the farm is a campground now, owned by Ezra McIntyre. The former pilot and college professor suffers from “a little” PTSD and although he knows he needs the new beginning the property offers, he’s also terrified of it. In his relationship with life, he doesn’t want to be an active member.
Lives change, so often in the space of a conversation, an event, or even a senior prom, and we learn from those changes. And relearn. Life’s Too Short for White Walls is a story so dear to my heart for those reasons. I hope you try it and that you like it, too. 
I’m a big fan of sending out prizes (I’m a retired postal worker who still loves getting mail; figures, doesn’t it?) so I’ll be offering one up to a commenter. Thank you to Pam for having me here and to you for reading. Hoping all your life changes are happy ones!
Liz Flaherty is rather bewildered by where she’s at in life. She doesn’t feel…er…elderly, but the truth is that she is. The Magnificent Seven grands have grown up on her, her own kids are all now older than she is, and her husband Duane has the same firm hold on her heart he’s always had. 
Connect with Liz thorough her Website, on Facebook, Twitter @LizFlaherty1 and sign up to receive her newsletter!

 Still reeling from her divorce, Joss Murphy flees to Banjo Bend, Kentucky, where she'd been safe and happy as a child. The family farm is now a campground. Weary and discouraged, she talks owner Ezra McIntire into renting her a not-quite-ready cabin.
With PTSD keeping him company, Ez thrives on the seclusion of the campground. The redhead in Cabin Three adds suggestions to his improvement plans, urging color and vibrancy where there was none.
Neither is looking for love, yet the attraction they share is undeniable. Can the comfort of campfires, hayrides, and sweet kisses bring these two lost souls together?
Get your copy at B&N, Amazon & Apple Books!
Hope you enjoyed the post friends, be sure and leave a comment to be eligible for a prize from Liz.
Until next time, take care and God bless.PamT

#SaturdaySpotlight is on Alina K Field & Lady Twisden’s Picture Perfect Match!

Good Morning,

We drove home from Toledo Bend lake yesterday after a frightful storm Thursday night where lightning struck so close it burned streaks down 5 trees and destroyed the converter on one camper, leaving them without electricity! SO grateful no one was injured!! Other than that, we had a lovely time fishing and just relaxing. I actually indulged in a reading binge, Nora Robert's "Born In" trilogy. 

Speaking of reading binges, today's guest is no stranger to our blog but please welcome Alina back with her story Lady Twisden's Picture Perfect Match, part of Desperate Daughters: A Bluestocking Belles Collection With Friends anthology. Take it away Alina.....

We are only ten days away from the release of Desperate Daughters: A Bluestocking Belles Collection with Friends.
This collection of novellas by nine Regency romance authors is a perfect opportunity to sample some new-to-you storytellers. The stories are set around a central premise, a family of all daughters, left destitute by their late father, the earl of Seahaven.
Here’s the blurb for the collection:
Love Against the Odds
The Earl of Seahaven desperately wanted a son and heir but died leaving nine daughters and a fifth wife. Cruelly turned out by the new earl, they live hand-to-mouth in a small cottage.
The young dowager Countess’s one regret is that she cannot give Seahaven’s dear girls a chance at happiness.
When a cousin offers the use of her townhouse in York during the season, the Countess rallies her stepdaughters.
They will pool their resources so that the youngest marriageable daughters might make successful matches, thereby saving them all.
So start their adventures in York, amid a whirl of balls, lectures, and al fresco picnics. Is it possible each of them might find love by the time the York horse races bring the season to a close?
But it’s not just daughters finding romance…
Not everyone who finds love is a daughter. It was great fun to see the earl’s young widow find her own happily-ever-after. And my heroine, Lady Twisden, is a widowed aunt who learns that following her passion for painting doesn’t mean sacrificing love.
Lady Twisden’s Picture Perfect Match
He’s not just a perfect image of a soul-stirring hero, but a perfect-for-her match. 
After years of tolerating her late husband’s rowdy friends, Honoria, Lady Twisden, has escaped to York where she can paint, investigate antiquities, and enjoy freedom. Then her stepson appears with a relative in tow, the perfect image of a long-ago relation whose fierce portrait made her shiver with mad imaginings.  Promised York’s marriage mart and the hospitality of his cousin’s doddering stepmother, Major August Kellborn is shocked to find that his fetching hostess is the one woman who stirs his heart. To win her heart, however, he must convince her he’s not just a perfect image, but her perfect match. 
Excerpt:
“Where is the footman? We need him to fetch in our trunks.”
We?
Looking past the broad shoulder she saw another figure approaching and…
Good God. Heat swamped her and flamed in her cheeks. Dark eyes shot darts at her over a grimly set, thin-lipped mouth. The palpable sternness of Wes’s companion sent a shiver of awareness through her. It was a familiar shiver, one she’d indulged during her tedious days at Twisden Manor when she’d found herself fighting off mad imaginings.
Wes’s laughter shook her tongue loose. “My goodness, sir,” she said. “You bear an uncanny resemblance to—”
“Old Ebenezer Twisden,” Wes said. “Yes, it is as if the old Warden has come back to life, Mother. As soon as I laid eyes on him in Brampton, I knew he must be a relation. And do you know who he is, Mother?” He laughed again. “I’ve written to Granny to tell her. She’ll be in alt when she reads the news.”
A man of perhaps forty, he was about the same age as Wes’s ancestor, the Warden in the painting at Twisden Hall who’d been in the King’s service for many years when that portrait was done. This new incarnation of Ebenezer wasn’t a particularly tall man, not as tall as Wes, but he still towered over her.Old Ebenezer cleared his throat.
“But of course,” Wes said. “Where are my manners? Mother, may I present my cousin, Major Augustus Kellborn. Gus, this is my dear stepmother, Lady Twisden.”
While she curtsied, managing not to wobble, he dipped his head, never taking his gaze away.Good holy heavens.
Desperate Daughters is available for Pre-order for only 99 cents : https://books2read.com/u/bMwL17Hurry! The price goes up after the book’s May 17, 2022 launch day.
USA Today bestselling author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature but prefers the happier world of romance fiction. Though her roots are in the Midwestern U.S., after six very, very, very cold years in Chicago, she moved to Southern California where she shares a midcentury home with a golden-eyed terrier. 
Website: https://alinakfield.com/ 
Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Alina-K.-Field/e/B00DZHWOKY
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/alinakfield 
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AlinaKField
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/alina-k-field
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alinak.field/
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Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/alinakf/
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Sounds like a great collection of wonderful stories, Alina! We certainly wish you ALL the best of luck and God's blessings with it.
If you love Regency Romances, pre-order your copy today friends and check back each week for Wednesday Words with Friends and Saturday Spotlight.
Until next time, take care and God Bless. PamT

#WednesdayWordswithFriends Welcomes Wendy J Dunn!

Good Morning from Toledo Bend Lake!

We drove up Sunday afternoon but don't have the best fishing report for you. Only caught a few yesterday, rained out today but as they say....the worst day of fishing beats the best day of work LOL!

Today's guest is brand new to our blog so please give Wendy J Dunn a huge, warm W-E-L-C-O-M-E!

Take it away, Wendy.....

Hoping you enjoy reading my response to this writing prompt:
A drunken man sits next to you in a bar, thinks you’re his buddy and starts confessing “the truth”. Write about what “the truth” is.
“Books,” the man said, sitting next to me. “Do you read books?”
My night out was getting crazier by the minute. I should be home, reading books, writing books, but now a drunken man disturbs my thoughts to talk about books?
“Of course, I read books,” I mumble. I curse myself. At my age, I should know better than to talk to intoxicated men. I should have just left him at the bar and gone home. That’s where I belonged, rather than being alone in the city after midnight.
The man jutted his face closer to mine. His breath smelled of beer and whiskey. “Want to know the truth? Books are dangerous things,” he said.
I shrugged and shifted uneasily on the stool. “I know that.” I glanced at my nameless companion but spoke more to myself than to him. “Books make us think—and they have the power to change our thinking.”
I almost jumped out of my skin when the man smacked his hand hard against the bar. “Who says I need to think?”
He left me then, weaving through the crowd of people, disappearing into the dark of the night. My thoughts returned to my unfinished novel. I was here, in this bar, because of writing that stupid book, and because my imagination had let me down.
I hadn’t been in a bar, not in the early hours of the morning, for years. But today my character decided she wanted to go to a bar. I struggled to visualise the scene, let alone write it. I’ve travelled the world to research my novels—so it didn’t seem a hard ask to get in my car that evening and drive into the city for a few hours.
Now I felt like crying.
I reminded myself of one of my writing creeds, the words of Akira Kurosawa, “Being an artist means not having to avert one’s eyes”. How I wanted my writing to have substance; how I wanted my writing to mirror how I see the world.
I wrote because it was my way of really thinking, my way of growing, my way of looking at the world and voicing my truth. While it was my truth, it might speak to someone else, too.
But tonight, brought back my worry that too many could not bear to look at the mirrors held up to them. They feared the danger of books.
Born in Melbourne, Australia, Wendy is married and the mother of three sons and one daughter—named after a certain Tudor queen, surprisingly, not Anne.
Connect with Wendy Website: http://www.wendyjdunn.com/Twitter: @wendyjdunnInstagram: wendyjdunnauthorFaceboook: https://www.facebook.com/authorwendyjdunnGoodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/197156.Wendy_J_DunnBookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/wendy-j-dunnNewsletter: https://www.getrevue.co/profile/wendyjdunn
Falling Pomegranate Seeds: All Manner of Thingshttp://mybook.to/fpsamot

FPS: The Duty of Daughtershttp://mybook.to/FPS
The Light in the Labyrinthhttp://mybook.to/Labyrinth
Dear Heart, How Like You This?mybook.to/DHHLYT
You can read my Tudor novels FREE at Kindle Unlimited.  https://amzn.to/3pXJgKI

So, true, Wendy, most of us can't bear to look at the mirrors held up to us! 

Hope you enjoy the post friends and that you'll check back each week for Wednesday Words with Friends and Saturday Spotlight.

Until next time, take care and God Bless.

PamT

#SaturdaySpotlight is on Stacey Weeks @WriterSWeeks & To Sweet Beginnings in Sycamore Hill

Good Morning Friends,

Had a blast in Biloxi but now it's back home and getting ready to go to Toledo Bend Lake for a week. Today's guest has visited often, so please welcome Stacey Weeks back with a peek into her book, To Sweet Beginnings in Sycamore Hill!

When a whistleblower speaks up, she tips the first domino of a twenty-four-hour chain reaction on the eve of Sycamore Hill’s most important holiday event. A baker gets a career-making opportunity, a reporter chases the truth, a woman faces her greatest fear, and a lost child returns as the dominos continue to fall. The residents of Sycamore Hill approach a new year, and five couples celebrate sweet beginnings filled with endless possibilities in this short story sequence.
Excerpt: This wasn’t quite the triumphant return Gloria Sycamore had always imagined. She tugged up the hood of her winter coat with one hand and tipped her chin down. She clutched a file folder to her chest. Her downcast gaze made the likelihood of being recognized slim.
Gloria pointed herself in the direction of the library and merged with the foot traffic on Main Street. The archives should have copies of the newspapers from when her life imploded. Not that she wanted to relive those moments, but she needed to look at the articles with fresh eyes and a clear head. She didn’t trust her memory. Or maybe she didn’t want to believe what she suspected. 
She’d be in and out, and no one would be the wiser. If she was wrong, no one would know she was here. But if she was right, everyone would know. Her chest tightened, and she swallowed a lump swelling in her throat. She knew what really happened that day, and more importantly, God knew the truth. But if that was right, why did she feel like a scolded dog slinking into town with its tail between its legs?
“Good afternoon,” a cheery voice called from the doorway of a bakery.
Trepidation tightened her core. Her grip on the folder stiffened as she lifted her face. A man with a white apron tied around his waist rested his gloved hands on the handle of his snow shovel. 
Relief loosened the knots in her belly. Her face relaxed into a smile as she flicked her eyes to The Muffin Man’s gilded sign. Cute. 
He bent at the waist, whistling a holiday melody as he resumed his chore. She knew the minute the proprietor noticed her heeled, leather, took-an-entire-paycheck-but-she-deserved-them boots. His whistling faltered. Gloria flattened her lips. Apparently, some fashion trends hadn’t trickled down to Sycamore Hill. She buried her mouth and nose under her scarf and avoided making eye contact with anyone else as she hurried away. Every click of her booted heel seemed to scream; you don’t belong, you don’t belong.  
“Look out!” A group of teenagers brushed past her and bumped her shoulder. They knocked the file from her hands, and she turned her ankle in her ridiculous heels, landing palms down on the pavement. The breeze snatched the loose papers.
Sycamore Hill: One. Gloria: Zero.
As one page scraped and danced down the sidewalk, she pinched her eyes shut. Dampness seeped through her knees, and her palms burned from the cold. She inhaled a deep, slow breath, but it didn’t slow her racing pulse. Her imagination was on overdrive. They were just kids. She hadn’t been targeted. No one even knew she was back. Sycamore Hill had been one funeral away from claiming ghost town status when Gloria shook its dust from her feet. It would seem that the sleepy settlement had woken up during her years away. 
Sycamore Hill: Two. Gloria: Still zero.
“Is this yours?” A hand extended the rescued newspaper page waltzing with the wind.
Gloria skipped over the headlines. She had them memorized. Experimental Drug from Emergence Pharmaceuticals Shows Promise. Income Opportunity Knocks at the Door of Life House. Her attention lingered on the picture of her former bio-medical lab partner. Tiff’s confident grin stared back at her. She always did take a good photo. With her arms folded across the front of a starched white lab coat, she looked every bit the part of a trustworthy professional. But Gloria knew better.
“It is. Thank you!” Gloria pushed herself to her feet, but she crumpled when she put weight on her ankle. 
The man cupped her elbow. “Let me help you.”
Gloria fumbled out another thank you. It had been a long time since anyone offered her assistance. If enough new blood pulsed through the town’s veins, maybe her scandal was ancient history? Lord, please let it be so! 
A gust of wind blew back her hood as she lifted her face to her Good Samaritan. Little wisps of blonde curled out from under the edge of a dark knitted cap with a brown leather label. Her mouth fell open.Recognition dawned in his eyes. “Gloria?” 
Owen Mason’s once lanky frame had filled out during her absence. His shoulders were broader than before, and even in a winter jacket, she could tell he narrowed nicely at the waist. The twinkle in his eyes dimmed as her delay in responding lengthened. 
Say something. Anything. 
She bit the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t seem to push words around her suddenly swollen throat and thick tongue. Once she confirmed her identity, he’d walk away. She hadn’t just abandoned Sycamore Hill; she’d rejected everything the small town stood for, including him. It was the only way she could cope. 
A vertical line etched between his eyebrows as he drew them together.
Say words. Any words will do.
Heat burned her skin as she recalled their last interaction. His smile faded. She’d left Owen with only a letter to explain why. 
“Hi, Owen.” It came out deep and raw. Then, as if her eyes had a mind of their own, her gaze trailed down all the way to his bare ring finger. Her stomach hopscotched. When she lifted her face again, the corner of his lips twitched. 
He inhaled a large, deep, savouring breath.
Sycamore Hill: Two. Gloria: One.
Finally, she was on the scoreboard.
Stacey is a mother of three, a sipper of hot tea with honey, and loves to share the hope of Christ with women. She has a graduate certificate for Women in Ministry, is a multi-award-winning author and novelist and is a frequent conference speaker. Find more information at StaceyWeeks.com
Sign up to receive Stacey's Newsletter and get a free short story!
Find/Follow Stacey on...Facebook: www.facebook.com/writerSWeeksTwitter: @writerSWeeks Instagram: @writerSWeeks
To Sweet Beginnings in Sycamore Hill can be purchases at many online retailers found HERE.

GREAT spotlight, Stacey. Thanks for sharing! We certainly wish you the best of luck and God's blessings with your book.
Until next time, Friends take care and be BLESSED PamT

#WednesdayWordswithFriends Welcomes Carolyn Rae Williamson!

Good Morning from lovely Biloxi, MS!

One of my BFF's and I drove here Monday and we're staying at the beautiful Beau Rivage hotel/casino. We've had such a wonderful time enjoying each other's company. This friend lived at my house in 2010 while I bounced back and forth from Bandera and although we see each other regularly we haven't had a girl's trip in a long time so this was a wonderful opportunity. I'll share photos later but for now, please welcome Carolyn Rae Williamson back to our blog. Carolyn visited way back in 2018 so it'll be great to catch up with her again. Take it away, Carolyn.....

To Diet or Not....

My husband and I tried two types of advertised weight loss pills with no results. Others advertised probably don’t help much either. I have read six books about losing weight. Analyzing them is like what I found out in college, where professors in similar subjects had different slants on things. Today, one nutritionist may say something that contradicts another’s words. 

I earned a master’s degree in home economics and keep up with current nutrition knowledge. Reducing fat calories has sounded promising, because fats have nine calories per gram, while protein and carbohydrates only have four calories per gram. 

One study showed those in one group who ate less fat, but the same number of calories, lost more than the other group, who ate the same total of calories, but their meals had more fat. 

Authors of weight-loss plans differ on when to eat and how much exercise one needs. They all suggest some exercise, but the amount and timing recommended varies.  

Some say it’s better to eat three meals and several snacks. Another study showed a group of people who ate several smaller meals a day lost more than the other group eating the same number of calories served in three meals a day. 

According to the New York Times: “But now, a rigorous one-year study in which people followed a low-calorie diet between the hours of 8 a.m. and 4 p.m. or consumed the same number of calories anytime during the day has failed to find an effect.” 

Several authors want you to eat mostly chicken, turkey, and fish. Some authors recommend cutting carbohydrates to little or none, while others suggest limiting carbohydrates to complex ones that are slow to digest. Most suggest a variety of fruits and vegetables helps keep one healthy, while Atkins limits you in the early stages to low starch vegetables, such as broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower, and greens such as spinach, with only apples and berries for fruits. It didn’t take long for me to get tired of those. 

Many diets emphasize including plenty of protein. Did you know that foods with some protein may not contain all the essential amino acids your body can’t make? Eggs, milk, cheese, fish, and meat provide complete protein. If you don’t eat meat, fish, and dairy, combine servings from two of the following groups in the same meal, so your body will receive all the essential amino acids. Those groups are 1: Grains, such as wheat, oats, barley, rice, 2. Nuts and Seeds, and 3. Beans, such as pinto beans, navy beans, black beans, kidney beans, etc. 

One author doesn’t allow coffee. Some authors forbid artificial sweetener. Another doesn’t allow red meat. One author includes mostly plant proteins instead of meat or dairy foods. Another wants you to stop eating at 7:00 p.m. and not eat again until 11:00 a.m. the next day.

Now, as I learned in college, you must decide what to believe. And there’s another factor. Certain programs work for some people, but not others. Each individual needs to find what works for his or her body, lifestyle, and preferences.

Since my co-author and I are developing a sequel to our cookbook, There IS Life After Lettuce, now out of print, we needed to choose which theme to follow with our new cookbook for heart patients and diabetics, who may also need to lose weight. Like most nutritionist authors, we believe it’s good to limit fat, salt, sugar, and calories as well as provide adequate, complete protein. That is the basis for our recipes. We will leave which plan you choose up to you. We aim to provide nutritious recipes for delicious foods you’ll enjoy eating. 

Our next cookbook will feature delicious main dishes with complete protein as well as recipes for fruit dishes, desserts, vegetables, soups, and snacks. 

If you are a heart patient, a diabetic, or just want to lose some weight, look for the next cookbook by Carolyn Williamson and Pepper Durcholz, who’s a diabetic with a sweet tooth.

We’d like your opinion of the following names: More Than Lettuce, Beyond Lettuce, When Lettuce Isn’t Enough, Lettuce Eat Well, or Lettuce Eat Healthy. Perhaps you can suggest another catchy title.

Carolyn Rae Williamson writes romantic suspense under the name, Carolyn Rae. Her latest book is Romancing the Doctor, about a brilliant CDC researcher and his ambitious reporter girlfriend, who search for the vicious spreader of a dangerous virus that causes sterility. (There’s also some sex involved.)

Check out Romancing the Doctor HERE. Find our more by visiting Carolyn's website and Facebook page and following her on Twitter @CarolynRaeW1

Great post, Carolyn, Thank You for sharing! We certainly wish you the best of luck and God's blessings with your upcoming cook book!

Well, friends that's about it for today. Until next time take care and God bless.

PamT

#SaturdaySpotlight is on Linda McLaughlin AKA: Lyndi Lamont & Lady Elinor's Escape!

Good Morning Friends,

Linda has visited our blog before so please welcome her back with a peek into her Regency Romance novel, Lady Elinor's Escape. Take it away Linda....

Lady Elinor Ashworth always longed for adventure, but when she runs away from her abusive aunt, she finds more than she bargained for. Elinor fears her aunt who is irrational and dangerous, threatening Elinor and anyone she associates with. When she encounters an inquisitive gentleman, she accepts his help, but fearing for his safety, hides her identity by pretending to be a seamstress. She resists his every attempt to draw her out, all the while fighting her attraction to him.
There are too many women in barrister Stephen Chaplin's life, but he has never been able to turn his back on a damsel in distress. The younger son of a baronet is a rescuer of troubled females, an unusual vocation fueled guilt over his failure to save the woman he loved from her brutal husband. He cannot help falling in love with his secretive seamstress, but to his dismay, the truth of her background reveals Stephen as the ineligible party. 
Excerpt: (Note: Elinor has run away from her abusive aunt who hit her the day before. She meets Stephen Chaplin at a nearby inn.)
“Excuse me, madam, but I could not help overhearing you say that you must leave for London immediately. Allow me to introduce myself. Stephen Chaplin, Esquire, at your service.”
Elinor turned to face the gentleman who had suddenly appeared. She stared at him through a haze of black, taking advantage of her veil to get a closer look at this tall, dark-haired, seemingly well bred gentleman. He was above average height, with finely chiseled features, and while he could not, strictly speaking, be deemed handsome, there was something in the intense scrutiny of his light brown eyes that drew her to him. By the cut of his bottle green Superfine coat, which emphasized his broad shoulders, but was not so tight as to hamper movement, and his casually tied neckcloth, she surmised he was no society dandy.
“How do you do?” she said politely, extending one black-gloved hand.
“Fine, thank you.”
As he took her hand and bowed over it, Elinor savored the warmth of his touch for a moment. It had been a long time since someone had touched her out of kindness. Suddenly realizing she was clutching his hand, she withdrew hers. He studied her, his gaze seeming to penetrate the veil, and she could only stand like the veriest lump under his scrutiny.
“I beg your pardon, madam, but what did you say your name was?”
“Eli—” Elinor broke off and feigned a cough, panic bubbling up inside. Her name. Dear heavens, she needed a new name. If she told him who she was, he would never agree to take her to Mimi. She stared down at the gentleman’s yellow nankeen trousers and shiny brown boots. “Brown,” she stammered. “Ellie Brown.”
“Mrs. Brown, may I offer my assistance? I’m heading for London myself and would be pleased to convey you as far as Chippenham, where you may pick up another stage coach.”
Relief flooded through her at his offer, but could she trust him? No proper young lady rides in a closed carriage with a gentleman who is not related to her. The words of her governess rang in her ears. “I do not think—”
“Of course, you are cautious,” he interrupted smoothly. “Any genteel lady would hesitate to trust a strange gentleman.”
"But I am not a lady,” she blurted. If Aunt Sarah learned that a ‘lady’ had been here, she would know where to look for her. “I am merely a seamstress.”
"Really,” he drawled, doubt evident in his tone. 
“Yes, I have a position awaiting me in London.” She was surprised, and a bit uncomfortable, at how easily the lies flowed from her lips, but they were necessary. 
"Then you had best accept my offer, lest your position go to someone else. Miss Wainwright can vouch for me. We traveled here together from London. Nancy,” he called out. “Over here.” 
A young serving woman who was obviously in the family way approached them. “What can I do fer ye, Mr. Chaplin?” 
“I have offered to convey Mrs. Brown to London, but she is not sure I can be trusted.” 
Nancy giggled. “Oh, ma’am, ye’ve naught to fear. Mr. Chaplin’s the finest gentleman I’ve ever met. And we gets quite a few gents here at the Horse and Cart.” 
“Yes, I expect you do.” And not all of them honorable, Elinor thought with a glance at Miss Wainwright’s belly. 
Elinor pondered her choices. It was either Stephen Chaplin in a closed carriage or back to Aunt Sarah’s cottage where, at best, she would be locked in her bedroom after today’s escapade. And at worst... 
She remembered Aunt Sarah’s pistol and promptly made up her mind. Stephen Chaplin was undoubtedly the lesser of two evils. 
“Very well, sir, I accept your escort.” 
“Would you care for some breakfast first?” 
The inn was warm and she’d like nothing better than to settle near the fire and break her fast. Her stomach felt like it was stuck to her backbone, but she shook her head, afraid to stay a moment longer. 
Scant minutes later, Mr. Chaplin led her outside to a closed traveling carriage standing in the inn yard. He must be a gentleman of some means, she mused, to have his own carriage. He supervised the loading of their luggage then held out his hand to help her into the carriage. As she stepped up, the wind caught her veil and blew it upwards. For a second she had a clear glimpse of his startled face. 
He had seen the bruise.
Linda McLaughlin grew up with a love of history fostered by her paternal grandmother and an  incurable case of wanderlust inherited from her father. She has traveled extensively within the United States and has visited Mexico, Canada, Australia, Europe and Iceland. She now lives near the ocean in Orange County, California.
Linda writes historical and Regency romance under her real name and spicier romance under the pseudonym Lyndi Lamont. 
Catch up with Linda/Lyndi at the following Social Media Locations:Website: https://www.lindalyndi.comBlog: https://lindalyndi.com/reading-room-blog/ Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/lindamclaughlinBookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/linda-mclaughlinFacebook: http://www.facebook.com/LindaMcLaughlinAuthor Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1216627.Linda_McLaughlinPinterest: http://www.facebook.com/LindaMcLaughlinAuthorTwitter: https://twitter.com/LyndiLamont
Get your copy of Lady Elinore's Escape from Amazon, BookBub, or Goodreads
Thanks for sharing with us Linda! Wishing you the best of luck and God's blessings on your writing/books!
Until next time friends, take care and God bless. PamT