Jennifer Rodewald's Blog, page 2

When I Come Home Again… (a tender Christian romance)

As I am gearing up to launch When I Come Home Again, which is Craig Erikson’s story (the guy from Ordinary Snowflakes, which you can find here, if you haven’t read it yet!) I thought I’d give you just a taste from the book.

So, without much ado, here we go (but PLEASE NOTE, this version is UNEDITED! We’re working on the final copy)…

She hadn’t forgiven him.

The entire reason Craig had stayed gone now stared at him from across the room, and he saw it as plain as an incoming blitz. Seven years hadn’t undone anything. Before she blinked, he saw every spark of anger and resentment, still hot. Still fresh.

After she blinked, a desperate attempt at indifference. She shifted the paper lunch sack she’d carried and latched onto Grant Hillman’s hand, which had been anchored on her elbow. As their fingers threaded together, she slid her gaze away from Craig’s and pushed a smile onto her lips.

The fake kind. Did she really think he couldn’t tell the difference?

They moved together. Grant and Brenna. The chord of their names together hit Craig sharp. Wrong. It had never been Grant and Brenna. Always Craig and Brenna. As their synchronized steps brought them closer, he looked toward the ground, hoping the quick squeeze of his eyes would both go unnoticed and clear the burn of emotion flooding through him.

Grant and Brenna.

That was the reality now. He had known this. He was good with this.

“Brenna!” Sophie’s enthusiastic pitch was only what he could assume was her nature. She’d been using it all day, so he had safe reason to assume she was a normally optimistic person. Like himself—normal Craig—in any other moment but this. “I’m so glad Grant talked you into coming. Look who I found.” Her hand wrapped around his arm and wiggled, the smile in her voice oh-so innocent.

Eyes up, but don’t telegraph. Don’t let the defense read you.

Was it ridiculous that he still thought in terms of football? No. Certainly it wasn’t. Besides, in this moment, he was definitely not on offense. Not with the way fire had leapt in her eyes the moment they met his. The snap in that glance dredged up a memory. One he couldn’t afford to look into at the moment.

“Craig Erikson.” Her voice was chill reserve. As if they’d met at some business meeting somewhere in the distant past and she remembered reading his name on a card. The hand she offered—after she untwined her fingers from Grant’s—clasped his all casual-aloof. Like this reunion nothing to her.

Something feral awoke within him. No, it barked. I’m not letting you sideline me. Act as if we were only ever tame friends. The thoughts—the feeling stirred in equal parts irrational and dangerous. But he moved in, her hand firm in his grip, and wrapped his free arm around her. A move that surely looked friendly, by-gones-let-go, casual friends reunited.

It wasn’t. At all. And she knew the truth every bit as much as he.

Her spine rammed stiff. Shoulders pulled back, though she didn’t risk causing a scene by stepping away. Breath held. The energy lifting from her stiff frame was as far from indifferent acquaintance as Pluto is from the sun. Rather, it was hot warning. Resentment.

Pain.

The wild pitch within settled. Her pain—it still festered. Right where he’d left it. He had no business picking at the wound.

“It’s good to see you Brenna,” he said, stepping away. Inside, he folded. Outside, he dropped the hand that had rebelliously drifted down her arm and brushed over her fingers.

She swallowed. Looked toward the floor while her hand sought the safety of Grant’s. He stepped closer, secured an arm around her waist. That seemed to baluster her. Steady the reality that Craig had intentionally rocked.

“So…” Sophie stepped in the space he put between them, her chipper tone unsteady.

Craig regrouped. Smiled down at her and then at the couple across from them. “So. Lunch, right? Sophie and I were discussing the genius of turkey, provolone, crisp bacon, and a slice of green apple.”

“Brenna’s favorite.” Grant nodded, his mouth testing a smile that his eyes didn’t attempt. Anger didn’t linger there. Just… confusion? Concern? Maybe the furrowed brow of study from reading things—people—as he would. Because Grant had a gift as a people barometer. He could gauge the rise and fall of pressure, and the oncoming storms that would follow a drastic change.

Craig wondered if he’d predicted this heated moment of awkward, when the past caught up to Brenna and him and, though they’d known a face-to-face meeting was inevitable, neither had prepared for it. Wondered what Grant would do with this silent storm in the private moments only he and Brenna would share.

Block that. Didn’t want to think about it.

Craig grinned harder. Because surely that wouldn’t look weird to anyone. “Well then, Sophie and I will go grab our sandwiches and join you two.”

“Right,” Grant nodded, his expression almost neutral. “Except, I’ll come with you. Brenna grabbed her lunch because she felt wrong about eating off the district’s dime even though she works for them.”

“No. I don’t.” Brenna cut a sharp look at him. “I contract with them, and that’s not the same. Anyway, I brought my own, so I’ll save us a spot.”

She didn’t wait for his answer, and he didn’t seem to mind. Craig pondered what she meant by us. The four of them? Her and Grant?

Surely the four of them. Because they were making plans as a group. So that’s what she meant. Or not.

Stop.

As they moved toward the tables set up as a buffet, Sophie in front of him, he glanced back at Brenna. If there existed a chance for this homecoming to work, he needed to stop analyzing her. And looking at her.

She’d gone darker with her hair now. Used to be blonde. Why had she dyed it? Not that it looked bad. It didn’t. The dark auburn seemed to absorb the light, shining back a hint of red, and made her blue eyes appear bigger. A touch of bold highlights weaved around her face. Really, not very Brenna-ish at all. She hadn’t been one to do daring hairstyles. Long blonde hair, kept in a ponytail most of the time. It was easier, she’d said.

Craig had liked her hair down, but didn’t mind the ponytails. Made for a fun little interlude—sliding that stretchy hair-tie from her gathered hair while she twisted and squealed for him to stop. The moment it was set free, her thick tresses would fall over her shoulders, around her face, and his fingers would dance their way through the beautiful mess…

Stop that too.

His heartrate had hiked north a bit. Enough to be noticeable, which was a bad sign. Those years-ago memories seemed as fresh and vivid as the scrambled eggs and toast he’d had for breakfast that morning. We’ve both moved on?

Clearly not.

“How are the meetings going?” Grant saved him from himself as they stacked sandwiches and grapes on thick paper plates.

“Fine. Just like going back to school.”

“I imagine you generally got to skip staff meetings with your old job?”

Craig was fairly certain that was a jab. Maybe not. He was a little wound up. “Yeah, for the most part. Not really necessary when you’re a floater.”

His chin dipped once—a thoughtful nod. “Perhaps it’ll be good to be settled. To be part of the group—the family, as it were?”

“I’m looking forward to that. And to seeing the same kids every day. Building relationships with them.”

Grant nodded. With approval? “Yes, I could see how that would be a challenge and maybe something to be missed with your other arrangements.”

It was bizarre to be talking to a person you were pretty sure was analyzing you—politely—and likely nailing it, while all you had pounding in your brain was I was in love with your girlfriend.

He seemed to not notice—or more likely, noticed and quietly tucked the information away while he moved on. “Ashton and Trent are good boys, at the heart of it. It was good of you to come back for them.”

“And my mom. I need to be here for her.”

“Of course. But the boys…” His implied question trailed off.

Craig molded his pressed lips into a smile. “Will stay put. I’m approved by the state, and everyone involved is aware of the situation.” He stopped, pinned a direct look on Grant while they waited for their turn at the watercooler. “But I assume you’re aware of the situation. Right?”

Yeah, that was loaded. Grant was aware of the guardianship Craig would share with his mom over Trent and Ashton. As the district counselor, he’d be in the know.

And the other situation?

His focus drifted from Grant, finding Sophie, who had finished gathering her food and drink ahead of them. He followed her progress across the room until she stopped at a long table near the middle, set her plate and cup down, and slid onto the bench across from Brenna.

“I’m aware of the situation.” Grant’s voice was low. Controlled. Not threatening, but telling.

Heat churned in his stomach, and a sharp stab flicked near his heart. Yes. Grant had known Brenna and Craig had history. He’d known the agony that had wrecked them both concerning Scottie. He’d known that, because everyone in Big Prairie knew. That wasn’t why Craig suddenly felt hot and sick and wanting to run all over again.

There were things that the general public didn’t know. Things only between Brenna and Craig. The reality was, they’d been wrecked before they lost Scottie.

He wondered how much, if anything at all, Grant knew about that.

PRE ORDER NOW!

The post When I Come Home Again… (a tender Christian romance) appeared first on Author Jennifer Rodewald.

When I Come Home Again… (just a taste from the book)

As I am gearing up to launch When I Come Home Again, which is Craig Erikson’s story (the guy from Ordinary Snowflakes, which you can find here, if you haven’t read it yet!) I thought I’d give you just a taste from the book.

So, without much ado, here we go (but PLEASE NOTE, this version is UNEDITED! We’re working on the final copy)…

[image error]

She hadn’t forgiven him.

The entire reason Craig had stayed gone now stared at him from across the room, and he saw it as plain as an incoming blitz. Seven years hadn’t undone anything. Before she blinked, he saw every spark of anger and resentment, still hot. Still fresh.

After she blinked, a desperate attempt at indifference. She shifted the paper lunch sack she’d carried and latched onto Grant Hillman’s hand, which had been anchored on her elbow. As their fingers threaded together, she slid her gaze away from Craig’s and pushed a smile onto her lips.

The fake kind. Did she really think he couldn’t tell the difference?

They moved together. Grant and Brenna. The chord of their names together hit Craig sharp. Wrong. It had never been Grant and Brenna. Always Craig and Brenna. As their synchronized steps brought them closer, he looked toward the ground, hoping the quick squeeze of his eyes would both go unnoticed and clear the burn of emotion flooding through him.

Grant and Brenna.

That was the reality now. He had known this. He was good with this.

“Brenna!” Sophie’s enthusiastic pitch was only what he could assume was her nature. She’d been using it all day, so he had safe reason to assume she was a normally optimistic person. Like himself—normal Craig—in any other moment but this. “I’m so glad Grant talked you into coming. Look who I found.” Her hand wrapped around his arm and wiggled, the smile in her voice oh-so innocent.

Eyes up, but don’t telegraph. Don’t let the defense read you.

Was it ridiculous that he still thought in terms of football? No. Certainly it wasn’t. Besides, in this moment, he was definitely not on offense. Not with the way fire had leapt in her eyes the moment they met his. The snap in that glance dredged up a memory. One he couldn’t afford to look into at the moment.

“Craig Erikson.” Her voice was chill reserve. As if they’d met at some business meeting somewhere in the distant past and she remembered reading his name on a card. The hand she offered—after she untwined her fingers from Grant’s—clasped his all casual-aloof. Like this reunion nothing to her.

Something feral awoke within him. No, it barked. I’m not letting you sideline me. Act as if we were only ever tame friends. The thoughts—the feeling stirred in equal parts irrational and dangerous. But he moved in, her hand firm in his grip, and wrapped his free arm around her. A move that surely looked friendly, by-gones-let-go, casual friends reunited.

It wasn’t. At all. And she knew the truth every bit as much as he.

Her spine rammed stiff. Shoulders pulled back, though she didn’t risk causing a scene by stepping away. Breath held. The energy lifting from her stiff frame was as far from indifferent acquaintance as Pluto is from the sun. Rather, it was hot warning. Resentment.

Pain.

The wild pitch within settled. Her pain—it still festered. Right where he’d left it. He had no business picking at the wound.

“It’s good to see you Brenna,” he said, stepping away. Inside, he folded. Outside, he dropped the hand that had rebelliously drifted down her arm and brushed over her fingers.

She swallowed. Looked toward the floor while her hand sought the safety of Grant’s. He stepped closer, secured an arm around her waist. That seemed to baluster her. Steady the reality that Craig had intentionally rocked.

“So…” Sophie stepped in the space he put between them, her chipper tone unsteady.

Craig regrouped. Smiled down at her and then at the couple across from them. “So. Lunch, right? Sophie and I were discussing the genius of turkey, provolone, crisp bacon, and a slice of green apple.”

“Brenna’s favorite.” Grant nodded, his mouth testing a smile that his eyes didn’t attempt. Anger didn’t linger there. Just… confusion? Concern? Maybe the furrowed brow of study from reading things—people—as he would. Because Grant had a gift as a people barometer. He could gauge the rise and fall of pressure, and the oncoming storms that would follow a drastic change.

Craig wondered if he’d predicted this heated moment of awkward, when the past caught up to Brenna and him and, though they’d known a face-to-face meeting was inevitable, neither had prepared for it. Wondered what Grant would do with this silent storm in the private moments only he and Brenna would share.

Block that. Didn’t want to think about it.

Craig grinned harder. Because surely that wouldn’t look weird to anyone. “Well then, Sophie and I will go grab our sandwiches and join you two.”

“Right,” Grant nodded, his expression almost neutral. “Except, I’ll come with you. Brenna grabbed her lunch because she felt wrong about eating off the district’s dime even though she works for them.”

“No. I don’t.” Brenna cut a sharp look at him. “I contract with them, and that’s not the same. Anyway, I brought my own, so I’ll save us a spot.”

She didn’t wait for his answer, and he didn’t seem to mind. Craig pondered what she meant by us. The four of them? Her and Grant?

Surely the four of them. Because they were making plans as a group. So that’s what she meant. Or not.

Stop.

As they moved toward the tables set up as a buffet, Sophie in front of him, he glanced back at Brenna. If there existed a chance for this homecoming to work, he needed to stop analyzing her. And looking at her.

She’d gone darker with her hair now. Used to be blonde. Why had she dyed it? Not that it looked bad. It didn’t. The dark auburn seemed to absorb the light, shining back a hint of red, and made her blue eyes appear bigger. A touch of bold highlights weaved around her face. Really, not very Brenna-ish at all. She hadn’t been one to do daring hairstyles. Long blonde hair, kept in a ponytail most of the time. It was easier, she’d said.

Craig had liked her hair down, but didn’t mind the ponytails. Made for a fun little interlude—sliding that stretchy hair-tie from her gathered hair while she twisted and squealed for him to stop. The moment it was set free, her thick tresses would fall over her shoulders, around her face, and his fingers would dance their way through the beautiful mess…

Stop that too.

His heartrate had hiked north a bit. Enough to be noticeable, which was a bad sign. Those years-ago memories seemed as fresh and vivid as the scrambled eggs and toast he’d had for breakfast that morning. We’ve both moved on?

Clearly not.

“How are the meetings going?” Grant saved him from himself as they stacked sandwiches and grapes on thick paper plates.

“Fine. Just like going back to school.”

“I imagine you generally got to skip staff meetings with your old job?”

Craig was fairly certain that was a jab. Maybe not. He was a little wound up. “Yeah, for the most part. Not really necessary when you’re a floater.”

His chin dipped once—a thoughtful nod. “Perhaps it’ll be good to be settled. To be part of the group—the family, as it were?”

“I’m looking forward to that. And to seeing the same kids every day. Building relationships with them.”

Grant nodded. With approval? “Yes, I could see how that would be a challenge and maybe something to be missed with your other arrangements.”

It was bizarre to be talking to a person you were pretty sure was analyzing you—politely—and likely nailing it, while all you had pounding in your brain was I was in love with your girlfriend.

He seemed to not notice—or more likely, noticed and quietly tucked the information away while he moved on. “Ashton and Trent are good boys, at the heart of it. It was good of you to come back for them.”

“And my mom. I need to be here for her.”

“Of course. But the boys…” His implied question trailed off.

Craig molded his pressed lips into a smile. “Will stay put. I’m approved by the state, and everyone involved is aware of the situation.” He stopped, pinned a direct look on Grant while they waited for their turn at the watercooler. “But I assume you’re aware of the situation. Right?”

Yeah, that was loaded. Grant was aware of the guardianship Craig would share with his mom over Trent and Ashton. As the district counselor, he’d be in the know.

And the other situation?

His focus drifted from Grant, finding Sophie, who had finished gathering her food and drink ahead of them. He followed her progress across the room until she stopped at a long table near the middle, set her plate and cup down, and slid onto the bench across from Brenna.

“I’m aware of the situation.” Grant’s voice was low. Controlled. Not threatening, but telling.

Heat churned in his stomach, and a sharp stab flicked near his heart. Yes. Grant had known Brenna and Craig had history. He’d known the agony that had wrecked them both concerning Scottie. He’d known that, because everyone in Big Prairie knew. That wasn’t why Craig suddenly felt hot and sick and wanting to run all over again.

There were things that the general public didn’t know. Things only between Brenna and Craig. The reality was, they’d been wrecked before they lost Scottie.

He wondered how much, if anything at all, Grant knew about that.

PRE ORDER NOW!

The post When I Come Home Again… (just a taste from the book) appeared first on Author Jennifer Rodewald.

The Ache For Happily Ever After

I was thinking about happily ever after…

The sermon series at our church has been themed on happily ever after. I’m a Christian romance author, so you know this had me from the start. This week, in a dry tone, the pastor asked us to open to the last chapter, the last verse in the book of Cinderella… where we find that “they all lived happily ever after.” Then, he directed us to the last verse of the last chapter of Sleeping Beauty, where he assured us again that we’d find, “and they all lived happily ever after.” Following that we were to go to the last chapter of Snow White…

You can figure out the rest. The attention grabber (that’s what I call those things—I’m not sure of the technical term for such public speaking tactics) sparked an interesting question for me—one that actually distracted my Christian romance author’s heart from the rest of the sermon (yikes! I know, I’m sorry.) Why do we write stories like that? Unrealistic expectations? Hopes that are really beyond reason?

What propels to me write Christian romance that clearly seeks a happily ever after?

I pondered that for a while.

First answer? Don’t hate me—but it was “because it sells.” It’s the truth—but there’s got to be more because that answer simply begs another question. Why does it sell? What is it about us that at least 90% of the time our hearts long for a HEA? It’s like, “I’m investing 6-12 hours of my precious free time into your story; you’d better deliver that HEA at the end!”

Right?

Why do we long for that happily ever after?

It hit me somewhere in the middle of service.

“…He has put eternity into man’s heart…” (Eccl. 3:11, ESV)

That was an interesting place to land. I turned that verse over today, questioning the different angles, wondering if that thought had tipped the right direction.

We all long for our own Happily Ever After, don’t we?

It’s interesting, while that verse begins, “He has made everything beautiful in its time,” it ends with “yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.” Sandwiched in the middle we have this idea that God had placed the hope of eternity in our hearts.

So, are you confused yet?

The Good News Version puts that verse like this: “He has set the right time for everything. He has given us a desire to know the future, but never gives us the satisfaction of fully understanding what he does.”

That future? I’ll bet I can guess what it looks like in your imagination because I know what it looks like in mine.

Because HE put this longing in our hearts.

Do you feel that ache? He put it there. That dream of more? His. For us–for you and for me.

It’s just not yet. Not the right time for that beautiful Happily Ever After. Yeah, we don’t get it. As a result, I’ll cry out in frustration—why is this not like what I hoped? But now there is this…

He makes everything beautiful in its time.

We’re just not there yet.

But in the end, we’ll live happily ever after, in a kingdom that will never end, with the King whose love will make all disappointments and sorrows and aching vanish.

That Happily Ever After you’re still looking for?

It’s coming—and it won’t be the end. It’ll only be the beginning.

The post The Ache For Happily Ever After appeared first on Author Jennifer Rodewald.

The Ache For Happily-Ever-After

I was thinking about happily-ever-after…

The sermon series at our church has been themed on happily ever after. I’m a Christian romance author, so you know this had me from the start. This week, in a dry tone, the pastor asked us to open to the last chapter, the last verse in the book of Cinderella… where we find that “they all lived happily ever after.” Then, he directed us to the last verse of the last chapter of Sleeping Beauty, where he assured us again that we’d find, “and they all lived happily ever after.” Following that we were to go to the last chapter of Snow White…

You can figure out the rest. The attention grabber (that’s what I call those things—I’m not sure of the technical term for such public speaking tactics) sparked an interesting question for me—one that actually distracted my Christian romance author’s heart from the rest of the sermon (yikes! I know, I’m sorry.) Why do we write stories like that? Unrealistic expectations? Hopes that are really beyond reason? What propels to me write stories like that?

I pondered that for a while.

First answer? Don’t hate me—but it was “because it sells.” It’s the truth—but there’s got to be more because that answer simply begs another question. Why does it sell? What is it about us that at least 90% of the time our hearts long for a HEA? It’s like, “I’m investing 6-10 hours of my precious free time in your story; you’d better deliver that HEA at the end!”

Right?

Why do we long for that happily ever after?

[image error]

It hit me somewhere in the middle of service.

“…He has put eternity into man’s heart…” (Eccl. 3:11, ESV)

That was an interesting place to land. I turned that verse over today, questioning the different angles, wondering if that thought had tipped the right direction.

We all long for our own Happily Ever After, don’t we? It’s interesting, while that verse begins, “He has made everything beautiful in its time,” it ends with “yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.” Sandwiched in the middle we have this idea that God had placed the hope of eternity in our hearts.

So, are you confused yet?

The Good News Version puts that verse like this: “He has set the right time for everything. He has given us a desire to know the future, but never gives us the satisfaction of fully understanding what he does.”

That future? I’ll bet I can guess what it looks like in your imagination because I know what it looks like in mine.

Because HE put a longing for His Happily-Ever-After in our hearts.

Do you feel that ache? He put it there. That dream of more? His. For us. For you. For me.

It’s just not yet. Not the right time for that beautiful Happily Ever After. Yeah, we don’t get it. As a result, I’ll cry out in frustration—why is this not like what I hoped? But now there is this…

He makes everything beautiful in its time.

[image error]

We’re just not there yet.

But in the end, we’ll live happily ever after, in a kingdom that will never end, with the King whose love will make all disappointments and sorrows and aching vanish. That Happily Ever After you’re still looking for?

It’s coming—and it won’t be the end. It’ll only be the beginning.

The post The Ache For Happily-Ever-After appeared first on Author Jennifer Rodewald.

The Ache For More

I was thinking…

The sermon series at our church has been themed on happiness. This week, in a dry tone, the pastor asked us to open to the last chapter, the last verse in the book of Cinderella… where we find that “they all lived happily ever after.” Then, he directed us to the last verse of the last chapter of Sleeping Beauty, where he assured us again that we’d find, “and they all lived happily ever after.” Following that we were to go to the last chapter of Snow White…

You can figure out the rest. The attention grabber (that’s what I call those things—I’m not sure of the technical term for such public speaking tactics) sparked an interesting question for me—one that actually distracted my author’s heart from the rest of the sermon (yikes! I know, I’m sorry.) Why do we write stories like that? Unrealistic expectations? Hopes that are really beyond reason? Why do I write stories like that?

I pondered that for a while. First answer? Don’t hate me—but it was “because it sells.” It’s the truth—but there’s got to be more, because that answer simply begs another question. Why does it sell? What is it about us that at least 90% of the time our hearts long for an HEA? It’s like, “I’m investing 6-10 hours of my precious free time in your story; you’d better deliver that HEA at the end!” Right?

Why?

[image error]

It hit me somewhere in the middle of service.

“…He has put eternity into man’s heart…” (Eccl. 3:11, ESV)

That was an interesting place to land. I turned that verse over today, questioning the different angles, wondering if that thought had tipped the right direction.

We all long for our own Happily Ever After, don’t we? Why is that? It’s interesting, the beginning of that verse starts with “He has made everything beautiful in it’s time,” but it ends with “yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.” Sandwiched in the middle we have this idea that God had placed the hope of eternity in our hearts.

Confused yet?

The Good News Version puts that verse like this: “He has set the right time for everything. He has given us a desire to know the future, but never gives us the satisfaction of fully understanding what he does.”

That future? What does it look like in your imagination? Can I guess?

He put a longing for His HEA in our hearts.

Do you feel that ache? He put it there. That dream of more? His. For us. For you. For me.

It’s just not yet. Not the right time for that beautiful HEA. Yeah, we don’t get it. I’ll cry out in frustration—why is this not like what I hoped? But now there is this…

He makes everything beautiful in it’s time.

[image error]

We’re just not there yet.

But in the end, we’ll live happily ever after, in a kingdom that will never end, with the King whose love will make all disappointments and sorrows and aching vanish. That HEA you’re still looking for?

It’s coming—and it won’t be the end. It’ll only be the beginning.

Christian Romantic Comedy: Check out The Cupcake Dilemma!

I had the most fun with this book. Not my normal–my work usually ends up at the deeper end of things (Like The Carpenter’s Daughter, for example), but sometimes we’ve just got to mix it up, right?

I LOVED writing this Christian romantic comedy!

So much so, that release day was quite a party. Please picture me squealing, dancing around the kitchen with my kids, who love this book as much as I did (except stop with the kissing! Heheheh. They secretly love it, I think.) My husband even bought me a dozen cupcakes. 

I thought I’d give you a little Ian and Kirstin teaser. A little kitchen disaster that rather typifies their collisions. And hopefully a smile (and let’s be real, I’d love for you to go buy the book and read the rest. Since we’re being honest here.)

So, without any more babbling from me, I give you The Cupcake Dilemma (a Christian Romantic Comedy)

Meet Kirstin and Ian…

“How is it you missed learning how to make cookies?” Ian asked as we scooped the last of the gooey temptation into balls and placed them neatly on a parchment-lined tray.

I shrugged. “I…was never really interested, I guess. Mom was busy—it was just her and me and my sister; she and my dad split up when I was twelve—and I had a tendency to make a mess in the kitchen, so we just skipped that part of growing up, I guess.” I cocked an eyebrow as I looked back at him. “Maybe the real question in this scenario is, how is it you became a baker?”

His grin slid into the kind that softens faces when there was a happy memory behind it. “My mom.” He looked me in the eye before he continued. “I always had to work twice as hard for the good grades that seemed to come pretty easy to my brother—but I did it, because I’m competitive. My mom though. She always seemed to know when I was on the edge of my threshold for books, and she’d say, ‘Ian, you need a brain break. Let’s go make something amazing.’ And we did. We’d look up a recipe, make sure we had everything we needed, and then whip up something delicious. Fast-forward about fifteen years. I was working as a financial planner, hating it—the pressure and the stress and just trying to be someone that I’m really not, and I found myself baking during the evenings and weekends. When my brother got married and his bride asked me to do cupcakes for their wedding, something clicked.”

He tapped the side of his head. “So I used the degree I studied for, worked in the financial world for a couple more years, saving and planning, and then moved out here.” He spread his arms wide. “Now I have this.”

“And it makes you happy.”

“Well, I wasn’t unhappy with life, just my career choice, but yeah, I love what I’m doing, and I love Rock Creek, so double bonus, right?”

“Wait—you’re not from Rock Creek?”

“Nope. Only been here for three years. A college buddy, Jeff, he was from this small town, and we kept in touch. He’d say every now and then, ‘You should try the small-town life, buddy.’ So when I decided to try for my own bakery, I looked it up, checked out the real estate, which was really affordable, and found this building for sale. It was in rough shape, but it gave me the chance to renovate the way I wanted, and so far, it’s worked out pretty well.”

“Huh.” I leaned against the wall on the other side of the island. “I would have sworn you were born here. You know everyone and fit in so well.”

He tilted his head, studied me for a minute, and then opened his mouth to say something. But just as the words became sound, whatever he was going to say cut off as he jerked himself straight and sniffed. “What—” Another sniff, and then he whirled around to face the giant oven.

Pushing off the wall, I leaned over the counter so that I could see the oven too, and caught the flicker of a flame burst just as Ian yelled, “Fire!”

Yep. Right there in the oven.

I snatched the extinguisher he’d pointed out to me earlier. He went to the sink, grabbing a pan on the way. I beat him to the flames, ripped open the oven door, and pulled the trigger on the extinguisher. White foam spurted everywhere.

Once the flames were smothered, I looked up. Ian stood like a statue at the sink, the pan he’d filled with water poised for action and his mouth gaping.

Guess now he knew what he was dealing with. Figured the deal was off.

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Have I tempted you yet?

I hope you’ll spend some time with Kristin and Ian in The Cupcake Dilemma.

Happy Valentine’s Day, all. Hope you find a laugh somewhere in the day!

The post Christian Romantic Comedy: Check out The Cupcake Dilemma! appeared first on Author Jennifer Rodewald.

Cupcake Release Day!!!

[image error]I can’t even…

I’m just so excited. I had the most fun with this book. Not my normal… but sometimes we’ve just got to mix it up, right?

So today’s the day!!! Please picture me squealing, dancing around the kitchen with my kids, who love this book as much as I did (except stop with the kissing! Heheheh. They secretly love it, I think.)

To celebrate, I thought I’d give you a little Ian and Kirstin teaser. A little kitchen disaster that rather typifies their collisions. And hopefully a smile (and let’s be real, I’d love for you to go buy the book and read the rest. Since we’re being honest here.)

A Novella…Just for Fun

Happy New Year!!!

I’m finishing up, and I’m getting excited.

Another novella is on the schedule–releasing Valentine’s Day, 2018. Why? Because it was fun. That’s really all. A different flavor than my full-length novels, and for me, it was another needed break from the deeper end of story. And, it was a chance to go back to Rock Creek (Reclaimed, Ordinary Snowflakes), to catch a glimpse of some characters I have loved, and to play around with a more humorous tale.

I liked it. I hope you do too!

So, on February 14, 2018, grab a cup of something steamy and delicious. Curl up with a cuddly warm blanket, and let Ms. Kirstin Hill–kitchen fail extraordinaire–tell you about her new life in Rock Creek… and how The Cupcake Dilemma kind of changed her life’s trajectory. And how somewhere along the way she found out that she did fit in. Had. The whole time.

Need a cover to seal the deal?

Drum Roll Please….

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I hope you’ll come along with Kirstin and me back to Rock Creek in this light, Hallmark-ish story. Just for fun, and maybe a few laughs. Because it’s good medicine. The Bible even says so.

Great Christian Fiction Books for Teens, the tough middle grades edition

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I’m late this week… so sorry! Traveling. Christmas gathering. Momming. You know…

But we’re back! And we’ve gathered our thoughts, prepared our selections. This time, we decided to focus on those tough middle years… I’m going to define that as 10-12 years old. I know others define it more broadly, but for our purposes here, we were thinking specifically of books that we felt like hit the sweet spot in that awkward, hard to pin down age group.

So, without more wordiness from me, here we go… this week’s list of Great Christian Fiction for Teens, the middle grade edition (and bonus! Every book on this week’s list is part of a series… which means more options):

My Pick of the Week:

The Mandie Series

by Lois Gladys Leppard

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Publisher’s Description: 

In 1899, Mandie’s life changes when her Cherokee friends help her escape to a mansion that holds the hidden secrets of her past and the key to her future (book one description, Mandie and the Secret Tunnel).

My Thoughts:

I LOVED these books as a girl. So. Much. I tore through every new title my grandmother gave me. They were mystery and adventure and friendship and fun. And, as a bonus, book one has been made into a movie (I haven’t seen it), and I believe that there has been a Christmas movie made from this series as well.

The Sixteen-year-old’s Pick of the Week:

The Keystone Stables Series

by Marsha Hubler

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Publisher’s Description:

Thirteen-year-old foster kid Skye Nicholson has become an expert at being an angry, cold, and defensive teenager. After breaking more foster home placements than she cares to count, and committing numerous offenses, she’s headed to her final resort — juvenile detention. But after a court compromise, hope finds her through a beautiful sorrel quarter horse named Champ and the tough love of Tom and Eileen Chamber, who offer her another chance at their home at Keystone Stables. There she’s introduced to a God who has the power to truly save her, no matter how much she thinks she’s not worth saving.

Her thoughts: Once again, horses. This one LOVES her horses, and I found her reading, and rereading these books quite often when she was younger. If you’re familiar with the Heartland Series by Lauren Brooke, this series is similar. Also, by the way, that Heartland Series has been adapted for TV, and is a family favorite at our house… so if you need a family friendly show to binge on over the holidays, check it out.

Great Fiction Books for Christian Teens, Part 2

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Another week closer to Christmas… and we have more books for Christian teens!

As I sift through the options, I keep wondering why it can be such a challenge to find great fiction books for Christian teens? It seems like it’s a little bit of a vicious cycle. Books stores often don’t carry them–so publishers shy away from publishing them. Because we aren’t looking for them. But we don’t look for them because they can be so stinking hard to find, so publishers shy away from publishing them, thus, there aren’t many available for bookstores to carry.

Does this sound about right?

Speculation, on my part. The finding books for Christian teens problem has bothered me for quite a while, largely because I have some in my home. Also, I work with several who are not mine. As I said in my first post, YA books for Christian teens are out there, and there are some great writers with some fantastic YA reads on the market. They are there, but not in abundance, and they are kind of hard to find. WHY IS THAT? The YA market in general is pretty big. Really, it is. So, is the books for Christian teen market just too niche to be of any use? Is the problem that people just aren’t buying Christian YA, or is it that the Christian publishing world has given the YA market the cold shoulder?

I really don’t know–and I’d love to hear your thoughts on it!

I hope it’s not the cold shoulder thing, though. That’d be a little bit like the Church’s response to the entertainment industry in the ’80s and early ’90s. Remember that? The it’s all bad, worldly, and self-focused, so we’re not going to engage attitude? (that wasn’t everyone’s approach to it, but it was pretty prevalent). In the meantime, there was this massive platform that like 99% of the country engaged with, and we kind of missed it.

Sad. And, we’re still trying to make up time for that short-sighted snubbing. (I know, I’m full of opinions here…)

There’s this pretty big platform out there right now that engages our culture. Young Adult Lit reaches not only our children and teens, but a huge chunk of New Adults as well as those of us who have been grown up for a while. It’s a market that bleeds through the generations in a way that most niche genres don’t.

I really think we shouldn’t miss this opportunity. That’s all I’m trying to say here.