Lisa R. Howeler's Blog, page 111

Book Review: 12 Weeks to Midnight Blue. Book Tour with Celebrate Lit

Book: Twelve Weeks to Midnight Blue

Author: Steve Searfoss

Genre: Fiction

Release date: January 26, 2020

Chance Sterling launches a pool cleaning business over the summer. Join Chance as he looks for new customers, discovers how much to charge them, recruits an employee, deals with difficult clients, and figures out how to make a profit. Oh, and his sister Addie wants in on the action too. Will they learn how to be business partners? He has twelve weeks to reach his goal. Will he make it? Only if he takes some chances.

KidVenture stories are business adventures where kids figure out how to market their company, understand risk, and negotiate. Each chapter ends with a challenge, including business decisions, ethical dilemmas and interpersonal conflict for young readers to wrestle with. As the story progresses, the characters track revenue, costs, profit margin, and other key metrics which are explained in simple, fun ways that tie into the story.

I am a Christian and a parent. My wife and I pay close attention to the books and media our four children consume, and try to make sure the content is edifying, just as Paul exhorts us in Philippians 4:8. I wanted to write a book that met that standard, and was also fun and engaging. KidVenture teaches kids the importance of hard work, of keeping your word and being trustworthy, and telling the truth, even when it means delivering bad news. As the story progresses, the protagonist understands that business is about more than making money as he appreciates the responsibility he has to his customers, his employee and his partner. How you treat people matters in tangible ways.

At the center of the story is a strong family. The two main characters are a brother and sister, who engage in their share of sibling rivalry, but also learn how to work together and forgive each other. At key junctures when they face big dilemmas, they turn to their parents for advice. The kids learn a healthy mix of independence, risk taking and learning through trial and error — balanced with knowing when to ask for help. All of this is presented in a way that is not preachy or hokey, but wrapped inside a story full of unexpected plot twists, witty banter and memorable characters.

My Review

12 Weeks to Midnight is the perfect book for parents to give to their children to help them learn in a fun way about what all goes into running a business.

The story is entertaining and educational at the same time, which is exactly what a young person would like. The book is simply written but with a good, complex story. I would say this book is for children between the ages of 8 and 13.

The reader is shown how to start, run, and keep a business going through Chance Sterling’s journey to earn money enough to buy a new bike. The scenarios and hurdles Chance has to work through and climb over are lessons that even adults should keep in mind when trying to launch their own business.

“Why can’t I just keep all the money at the top?” Chance asks his dad one day when he realizes he will have to purchase some of the equipment he needs to keep his business running from the profit he’s already made.

“Because money doesn’t grow on trees,” his dad tells him.

Chance suggests that it grows in his dad’s wallet and that’s when his dad has to inform him that even parents have to work for what they have and purchase what they need from that money.

It’s a difficult lesson for young Chance, but one he, along with his younger sister Addie, has to learn to understand how to earn the money to buy what he wants. This book presents a stripped down lesson on economics at the basic level, including investments, earnings, expenses, and overall profit.

What I really liked about the book is that at the end of each chapter the author asks the reader what they would do if they were in the shoes of the character. It’s a great way to really help a young person think through not only Chance’s journey, but their own.

As a parent, I absolutely love books for children and pre-teens that has a message that can be delivered in a fun and non-preaching way, which is why I really enjoyed 12 Weeks to Midnight Blue and highly recommend it for children and even for parents. Even parents could use a reminder about what it takes to run a business.

My rating 5 out of 5

I was given a complimentary copy of this book but all opinions are my own and I was not asked to give a positive review.

Click here to get your copy!About the Author

I wrote my first KidVenture book after years of making up stories to teach my kids about business and economics. Whenever they’d ask how something works or why things were a certain way, I would say, “Let’s pretend you have a business that sells…” and off we’d go. What would start as a simple hypothetical to explain a concept would become an adventure spanning several days as my kids would come back with new questions which would spawn more plot twists. Rather than give them quick answers, I tried to create cliffhangers to get them to really think through an idea and make the experience as interactive as possible.

I try to bring that same spirit of fun, curiosity and challenge to each KidVenture book. That’s why every chapter ends with a dilemma and a set of questions. KidVenture books are fun for kids to read alone, and even more fun to read together and discuss. There are plenty of books where kids learn about being doctors and astronauts and firefighters. There are hardly any where they learn what it’s like to run small business. KidVenture is different. The companies the kids start are modest and simple, but the themes are serious and important.

I’m an entrepreneur who has started a half dozen or so businesses and have had my share of failures. My dad was an entrepreneur and as a kid I used to love asking him about his business and learning the ins and outs of what to do and not do. Mistakes make the best stories — and the best lessons. I wanted to write a business book that was realistic, where you get to see the characters stumble and wander and reset, the way entrepreneurs do in real life. Unlike most books and movies where business is portrayed as easy, where all you need is one good idea and the desire to be successful, the characters in KidVenture find that every day brings new problems to solve.

Book Review: 12 Weeks to Midnight. Book Tour with Celebrate Lit

Book: Twelve Weeks to Midnight Blue

Author: Steve Searfoss

Genre: Fiction

Release date: January 26, 2020

Chance Sterling launches a pool cleaning business over the summer. Join Chance as he looks for new customers, discovers how much to charge them, recruits an employee, deals with difficult clients, and figures out how to make a profit. Oh, and his sister Addie wants in on the action too. Will they learn how to be business partners? He has twelve weeks to reach his goal. Will he make it? Only if he takes some chances.

KidVenture stories are business adventures where kids figure out how to market their company, understand risk, and negotiate. Each chapter ends with a challenge, including business decisions, ethical dilemmas and interpersonal conflict for young readers to wrestle with. As the story progresses, the characters track revenue, costs, profit margin, and other key metrics which are explained in simple, fun ways that tie into the story.

I am a Christian and a parent. My wife and I pay close attention to the books and media our four children consume, and try to make sure the content is edifying, just as Paul exhorts us in Philippians 4:8. I wanted to write a book that met that standard, and was also fun and engaging. KidVenture teaches kids the importance of hard work, of keeping your word and being trustworthy, and telling the truth, even when it means delivering bad news. As the story progresses, the protagonist understands that business is about more than making money as he appreciates the responsibility he has to his customers, his employee and his partner. How you treat people matters in tangible ways.

At the center of the story is a strong family. The two main characters are a brother and sister, who engage in their share of sibling rivalry, but also learn how to work together and forgive each other. At key junctures when they face big dilemmas, they turn to their parents for advice. The kids learn a healthy mix of independence, risk taking and learning through trial and error — balanced with knowing when to ask for help. All of this is presented in a way that is not preachy or hokey, but wrapped inside a story full of unexpected plot twists, witty banter and memorable characters.

My Review

12 Weeks to Midnight is the perfect book for parents to give to their children to help them learn in a fun way about what all goes into running a business.

The story is entertaining and educational at the same time, which is exactly what a young person would like. The book is simply written but with a good, complex story. I would say this book is for children between the ages of 8 and 13.

The reader is shown how to start, run, and keep a business going through Chance Sterling’s journey to earn money enough to buy a new bike. The scenarios and hurdles Chance has to work through and climb over are lessons that even adults should keep in mind when trying to launch their own business.

“Why can’t I just keep all the money at the top?” Chance asks his dad one day when he realizes he will have to purchase some of the equipment he needs to keep his business running from the profit he’s already made.

“Because money doesn’t grow on trees,” his dad tells him.

Chance suggests that it grows in his dad’s wallet and that’s when his dad has to inform him that even parents have to work for what they have and purchase what they need from that money.

It’s a difficult lesson for young Chance, but one he, along with his younger sister Addie, has to learn to understand how to earn the money to buy what he wants. This book presents a stripped down lesson on economics at the basic level, including investments, earnings, expenses, and overall profit.

What I really liked about the book is that at the end of each chapter the author asks the reader what they would do if they were in the shoes of the character. It’s a great way to really help a young person think through not only Chance’s journey, but their own.

As a parent, I absolutely love books for children and pre-teens that has a message that can be delivered in a fun and non-preaching way, which is why I really enjoyed 12 Weeks to Midnight and highly recommend it for children and even for parents. Even parents could use a reminder about what it takes to run a business.

My rating 5 out of 5

Click here to get your copy!About the Author

I wrote my first KidVenture book after years of making up stories to teach my kids about business and economics. Whenever they’d ask how something works or why things were a certain way, I would say, “Let’s pretend you have a business that sells…” and off we’d go. What would start as a simple hypothetical to explain a concept would become an adventure spanning several days as my kids would come back with new questions which would spawn more plot twists. Rather than give them quick answers, I tried to create cliffhangers to get them to really think through an idea and make the experience as interactive as possible.

I try to bring that same spirit of fun, curiosity and challenge to each KidVenture book. That’s why every chapter ends with a dilemma and a set of questions. KidVenture books are fun for kids to read alone, and even more fun to read together and discuss. There are plenty of books where kids learn about being doctors and astronauts and firefighters. There are hardly any where they learn what it’s like to run small business. KidVenture is different. The companies the kids start are modest and simple, but the themes are serious and important.

I’m an entrepreneur who has started a half dozen or so businesses and have had my share of failures. My dad was an entrepreneur and as a kid I used to love asking him about his business and learning the ins and outs of what to do and not do. Mistakes make the best stories — and the best lessons. I wanted to write a business book that was realistic, where you get to see the characters stumble and wander and reset, the way entrepreneurs do in real life. Unlike most books and movies where business is portrayed as easy, where all you need is one good idea and the desire to be successful, the characters in KidVenture find that every day brings new problems to solve.

Fiction Friday: The Next Chapter Chapter 2

Welcome to chapter 2 of The Next Chapter, book three of the Spencer Valley Chronicles. I honestly, am at a bid of a mental standstill with this book so I’m not sure when I’ll share the next chapter. We will see. Maybe I’ll get some more ideas this next week.

If you would like to read the first chapter, you can find it HERE.

Chapter 2

Spencer Valley Library Director Ginny Jefferies unlocked the back door of the library early Monday morning, quickly slipped inside, and slammed the door behind her.

She patted down the strands of her dirty blond, shoulder length hair that had blown out of place during her dash, breathing hard. Getting to her job was like an undercover assignment these days. She was seriously getting too old for this.

There were hours posted on the front door of the library, but people rarely read them.

Why should they?

It was a public library after all.

Wasn’t it always open?

That’s what a few of the patrons seemed to think, but no, the library wasn’t always open. Ginny needed at least a few minutes each morning to get ready before she opened the doors, but lately she wasn’t getting those few minutes and it was taking a toll on her nerves.

At least she’d been smart enough not to use the front door this time. That still might not guarantee her safety, however. The back door wasn’t exactly hidden from the public eye since it was located directly next to the back parking lot of the local supermarket.

Ginny just wanted time to open the library calmly, without everyone and their grandmother pushing inside to start her day before she was ready.

“Can I just slip inside and grab that new Jan Karon book?” Clarice Farley had asked one morning a month ago, clutching her bright pink rain hat down on her head with both hands.

Ginny had stared at her, mouth agape. “I don’t even have the system up to check you out, but we’re open in —”

“Oh please?” Clarice clasped her hands under her chin. “I’ve been waiting months for this book. It’s the last in the series.”

“I know, but —”

Clarice winked. “It will just take a minute.” And then she pushed her way past, through the door Ginny had just opened.

Ginny had shaken the umbrella off, peeling her wet sweater off as she stepped inside and watched Clarice rush to the new book section.

“You open?” Dan Bennett’s head had appeared inside the door Ginny had forgot to lock behind her. He hadn’t wait for her to answer. “Good because I need to print an important paper off for my insurance man. Wouldn’t you know it, the printer ran out of ink just last night.”

“I haven’t actually turned the computers on yet —”

“No problem at all.” Dan stepped inside with a wave of his hand. “I’ll get them for you. One less thing for you to do this morning.”

“Ah, okay, but I —”

The door opened again.

“Is it time for story time yet?” Mary Ellis was holding the hand of two toddlers with a third young child standing behind her, all three of them dripping water on the carpet inside the door.

“Storytime isn’t for another two hours,” Ginny said, hoping to usher them back outside.

“That’s okay.” Mary bumped her arm against Ginny’s on her way by. “We’ll just spend some time in the children’s room. You still have those blocks and toys here, right? The kids will love them and it’s better than trying to entertain them at home.”

“I – uh – but —”

Ginny decided then and there to make her entrance into the library as incognito as possible from then on.

She’d been arriving like a ninja for a month now and had even considered borrowing Brent Phillips’ camouflage hunting clothes, so she’d blend into the hedges out front. That was if she and Brent had been on talking terms, but they weren’t, or weren’t supposed to be, since her daughter had broken up with him the year before.

She leaned back against the door and sighed. So far so good. No one was pounding on the door. Not yet anyhow. She seemed to have made it in unseen.

Looking around the three-story library, lit only by the curved windows above the shelves on one side of the main room, she relaxed into the silence. Sunlight streamed in through a high window on the main floor, pouring light across the Women’s Literature section.

The building was the former Spencer Family mansion, built in 1901 and deeded to the town in 1967 to be used as a community library. Walls had been knocked down, floors removed, ceilings lifted, to create a larger open space that provided room for six-foot high bookshelves on two levels, ten rows on each floor. The Spencer family patriarch, J.P. Spencer, had left the building to the library association in his will, much to the fury of his remaining family members, a son who already lived in a mansion on the other end of town and a daughter from a previous marriage who had never even lived in the town. J.P.’s family had founded the Spencer Valley Railroad Company in the mid-1800s, making the company the second largest employer in the county at one time, next to farming. These days railroad and farming were dying out, fading away like an actual physical newspaper.

Ginny refrained from turning the main lights on, still hoping to remain in silence until her first cup of coffee was finished. She plopped down in the plush chair at the front desk and stared blankly at the row of computers, urging her brain to turn on before she turned the technology on. The computers were a fairly new edition, especially the ones in the gaming stations in the library basement.

The introduction of gaming computers was not something Ginny had been in favor of. The library board had overruled her, however, insisting they were needed to stay with the times and appeal to the younger generation. For Ginny, the library was a place to read, a place to fill a child’s head with knowledge, not somewhere for them to destroy brain cells playing ridiculous games on a computer.

“Well, who knows, maybe when they are done playing their games, they’ll wander up the stairs and find books!” Frank Rouse had said during the meeting, talking with his hands, as usual, long arms flapping around like a chimpanzee on speed as he talked. “We’ve got to move into the future, Ginny or become a relic of the past. It isn’t me driving the demand, it’s society. We need to meet that demand or simply watch libraries be boxed up with the rest of the artifacts.”

Artifacts and relics. It was all Frank seemed to be able to talk about since he’d hit the age of 65 and Ginny wondered if it was because he felt like he was becoming both. There were days she knew she felt like it and she was 12 years younger than him.

With a deep sigh, Ginny walked back to the office in the back of the building, flipped the light switch to on, and walked to the coffee pot she’d brought in herself to keep her and her assistant, Sarah, awake for the day. As the smell of Columbian Dark Roast hit her nostrils, she glanced at the photo of her husband Stanley on the shelf above her desk. She’d bucked the stereotypical trend of being a spinster librarian, but maybe that was because she’d been an English teacher at the local high school for 15 years first.

The picture of Stanley was from his third win as regional real estate agent, or was it his fourth? She couldn’t remember. He was up for the award again this year. Would he win number six? They’d know in a few more months. She wondered if he’d even ask her to attend. He hadn’t been asking her much of anything lately, or even talking to her for that matter.

Sipping hot coffee 15 minutes later, Ginny flicked her fingers across the row of light switches in the main room. Fluorescent highlighted the bookcases and tables, the children’s room, and the doorway of the conference room. The rectangle over the mysteries and thrillers section was still flickering, making her feel slightly off balance. She’d have to ask the volunteer maintenance man, George Farley, who was also the town’s funeral home director, self-proclaimed town historian, and director of the local community theater, to help her change it this week.

She picked up a book from the return pile and did what she always did to start her day – opened the book and deeply inhaled the smell of ink and paper. She loved the smell and feel of books. She wasn’t a fan of those so-called e-books, which she felt was a misnomer. A book was something you held in your hand, not looked at on a screen. She didn’t want to hold some cold, hard, unfeeling device in her hand. She wanted to touch an actual physical copy of a book and lose herself inside another world with each turn of the page.

She turned on the computer on the front desk with a scowl.

The switch from paper filing to computers was another update she had fought against before admitting typing information into a computer was easier than pulling open drawers and flipping through rows of index cards. Using the computer system had been easier. Or it had been up until six months ago when the board voted to implement a new, supposedly more advanced and efficient, software. Sadly, the board hadn’t voted to upgrade the computers which meant the fancy-dancy software overloaded and crashed the system several times a week, sometimes several times a day.

The back door squeaked open and Ginny’s assistant Sarah Shultz slipped in quickly and slammed the door behind her, leaning against it as if to hold back some kind of nefarious onslaught.

“I think Ed Pickett just saw me from the diner’s front window,” she panted, looking over her shoulder like an escaped criminal. “He could be here any minute.”

“Oh, good grief. It’s way too early and way too Monday for Ed,” Ginny said sipping her coffee and closing her eyes. “I hope he finally reads the hours on the front door.”

Ed, the incessantly question asking Ed.

“Do you think I’d like the new John Grisham book or the new Tom Clancy?”

“Should I try out this new book by this woman author? I don’t usually read women authors. Too much estrogen for me.”

“I’ll just sit over here with these books, read the first chapter of each and decide which one I’ll check out. Okay?”

Then there was that time he had read the same book she was reading.

“Ah, that’s a good one,” he said, leaning one elbow against the front desk. “Too bad he killed the love interest off in the last chapter. I really liked her.”

Sarah lifted the strap of her messenger bag over her head and laid it behind the front desk.

“Rough weekend?”

Ginny shrugged. “Boring one.”

“We need to get you a new hobby.”

Ginny bit her tongue. Literally.

Sarah was well-meaning but 24, bubbly, and clueless about getting old. Ginny adored her but wanted to slide a book about menopause across the counter and introduce her to her future.

“I can’t imagine what I’d do,” Ginny smirked. “The library is my life.”

“Or so the library board thinks,” Sarah quipped.

Ginny snorted.

“God forbid I am not here at all times.” She rolled her eyes, walking toward the drop off box.

“Or be thinking about anything other than new programs,” Sarah called after her.

“And keep up the perfect appearance in the community,” Ginny called back, practicing her royal wave.

Ginny gathered the books in her arms and carried them back to the desk and stacked them on top of the returns from the previous day.

“You start entering them in,” Sarah said. “And I’ll start putting them back in their rightful places.”

“Get them done as quick as you can and make sure you get yourself some coffee. Ed will be here at the strike of 9, I’m sure.”

Ginny’s phone rang as she started to type. Her daughter Olivia’s photo popped up on the screen. Ginny took a deep breath before sliding her finger over the accept button.

“Hey, hon’.”

“Hey.” Olivia’s tone denoted the same air of melancholy that had been present in her voice for months now.

Ginny bit her lower lip, wondering what the heavy sigh mixed in with that one word meant. “Are your bags packed yet?”

“Not yet.”

“What time are you leaving for the airport?”

“Don’t know yet. Probably seven. My flight’s at nine.”

The click of the computer keys under Ginny’s finger filled the long silence that followed while Ginny waited for her daughter to offer a reason for her call.

After thirty long seconds, Ginny coughed softly. “So, will Victor be coming along?”

“His name’s Vernon, mom.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. I knew it started with a ‘V’ at least.”

“Yeah, anyhow, he won’t be coming. I broke it off with him last night.”

Ah. The reason for the heavy sighs.

Ginny was glad her daughter couldn’t see the smile tugging at her mouth. She forced the happiness from her voice. “I’m sorry, Liv. Do you need to talk about it?”

Olivia huffed out a breath. “No. Whatever. He’s just a jerk.”

Ginny typed Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis into the computer and clicked the box next to returned.

“He said we were too different.” Oliva scoffed. “Whatever. More like he was too different. And a weirdo. All that constant pontificating about Tennyson and Hardy.”

Ginny smirked, recalling the awkward family dinner at Thanksgiving when Oliva had brought Vic — er — Vernon home from California with her for the holiday break. The way his complexion had paled at the sight of Tiffany changing a diaper in the middle of the living room floor while she shared her birth story with Ginny’s second oldest, Maddie. Really, though, Tiffany could have excused herself to the bedroom. Of course, Olivia’s announcement over dinner that she was now a vegan and couldn’t imagine “something dead that had once been alive and free” touching her lips hadn’t helped the day either.

“Well, who knows what will happen over the winter break,” Ginny said propping the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she typed. “Maybe absence will make the heart grow fonder.”

“He’s transferring to Cornell for the spring semester. Says they have a better architecture program.”

“You know —”

“I know, Mom.” Ginny heard a door or drawer slam on the other end of the line. “I could have gone to Cornell, two hours from the tiny, boring town I grew up in.” Another slam. “And I could have married the brother of a senator like Maddie or popped out babies like Tiffany and joined the Spencer Valley PTA and become like all the other closed-minded, uptight smalltown women.”

Ginny pressed her lips into a thin line. “There’s no reason to be snotty, Olivia. I’m not making you come home. You’re welcome to spend spring break out there if Spencer Valley is so detestable to you.”

Her youngest daughter sighed. “I’m sorry, Mom. It’s not that I don’t want to come home. It’s just, I don’t know — Classes were tough this semester and now all this with Vernon.” Ginny listened to fingernails drumming on wood. “But a visit home is probably what I need to clear my mind and help me decide if this is where I want to finish my degree.”

Ginny had a hard time imagining her daughter finishing her social work degree anywhere other than California after she’d begged to attend Stanford University two years ago. She couldn’t count the number of times Olivia had declared her love for the state of California, especially its all-year-around warm weather. Still, having Olivia closer to home, where Ginny could figure out where her daughter’s joy had disappeared to, would be nice too.

“I’ll call you when I have my flight details.”

Ginny clicked return next to a Tom Clancy book. “I’m looking forward to seeing you, Liv. Your father is too.”

“Yeah.” Olivia sighed again. “I’m looking forward to seeing you guys too.”

Her tone didn’t convey excitement, but at least she’d made the effort to say the words. Ginny finished entering returns after she hung up. She slid her finger over her phone screen when she was done, tapping on her husband’s name as she walked to the front door to unlock it.

“Shouldn’t you be opening the library?”

Couldn’t anyone just say, ‘hello’ anymore? “A good morning would have been nice.”

“Good morning. Shouldn’t you be opening the library?”

“I’m doing that now. I was delayed by a call from our daughter.”

“Ah. I see.” She heard the click of the computer keys on his end. “She’s on her way home for spring break?”

“Yes. Not very happily, but yes.”

“What’s His Face coming with her?”

“Vernon and no. They broke up.”

Stan snorted. “Wonderful. Maybe she’ll start eating normally again.”

Ginny shrugged. “Not sure that had anything to do with Vernon.” She took a deep breath as she heard the rustle of papers. Her stomach tightened. She shouldn’t ask. He’d probably say no but, “Want to grab lunch at the diner later?”

“Hmmm?” The crinkle of rustling papers muffled his voice. “What’s that?

She clicked the lock open on the towering wooden front door and tilted her head to one side, sighing softly. “I asked if you want to grab lunch at the diner later.”

More papers rustling. “Oh. Yeah. No. Can’t. I have a showing at lunch time and another one at 2. Rain check?”

If she had a dollar for every rain check they’d agreed on in the last year she’d be a millionaire. Not one of those rainchecks had ever been called in.

“Yeah. Sure. No problem.”

She cleared her throat, rubbing her fingertip along the edge of a bookshelf and making a face on the dirt staining her skin. She’d better move dusting to the top spot on her to-do list.

A drawer slammed shut on his end. “Great. See you later.”

She drew a deep breath, rushed ahead before she could chicken out. “I could make us those steaks I picked up at Clark’s.”

“I’ve got a meeting in Danby at 5 so I won’t be home until late. I thought I told you this morning.”

He hadn’t. “Oh. Right. Well. See you later then and love —”

The trill of a ringer cut her out off. “Gotta go, hon’. Probably George about that commercial property in Laporte.”

“Of course, go take —”

Click.

Ginny stared at the black screen for a few moments before setting her phone face down on the desk. She could only hope the rest of her day went better that those two phone calls had gone.

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Published on September 10, 2021 04:00

Tell Me More About . . . Deena Adams, author

Deena Adams writes fiction and shares interviews about other authors on her blog and today she was nice enough to take part in my Tell Me More About feature.

Tell me more about . . . is a bi-weekly feature which focuses on everyday people from all walks of life and professions. Each post highlights their work and the part they play in our communities.

Tell us a little bit about yourself, anything you think my readers need to know about the woman who is Deena Adams.

Thanks for the opportunity to share on your blog, Lisa! I was born and raised in northwest Georgia and married my high school sweetheart at age eighteen. I followed him around the country during his twenty-year Naval career until we settled in Virginia in 1994. We raised three children and have seven amazing grandkids we spoil as often as possible.

God called my husband to the ministry, and we planted a church in 1999, two years before his Navy retirement. He still pastors that church.

A few of my favorite people/things: Jesus, my family, friends, chocolate, reading, writing, comfy jeans, flip-flops, watermelon, and ribeye steak.

When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?

Growing up, English and Grammar were always my favorite subjects and where I excelled, but I never considered writing professionally until 2018.

In 2016, our best friends and ministry partners left our church and walked away from our friendship. I spiraled into a pit and struggled to find joy. After two years of wallowing in depression, I asked God to give me something to pour myself into. In the summer of 2018, He led me to pursue writing Christian Fiction.

I had no idea how to write a novel, so I scoured the internet for information. Innumerable YouTube videos, blogs, and online courses were my tutors. In November 2018, I participated in Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month), and in three months, I had written “The End” on a very messy, way too long, first draft. I was hooked and have thrown myself into this crazy writing life ever since.

Tell us a little about your already completed/published projects.

Instead of saying I’m unpublished, I like to say I’m pre-published. I’ve completed the first draft of two novels, and I wrote a novelette, which I offer free as a thank you for newsletter subscribers.

My first novel is about a guilt-ridden young widow who becomes a court-appointed special advocate for foster children to pay penance for her past sins. The novelette, Behind the Scenes, is a prequel to the novel and features the novel’s hero, a behavioral psychologist and homeless shelter manager, as a child.

Inspired by personal experience, the second novel is about a ministry couple whose teenage daughter runs away and returns home pregnant.

What are the main themes of your novels or stories?

My stories revolve around the topics of foster care, adoption, alcoholism, abortion, drug abuse, mental illness, rejection, death, etc.

As an avid reader, I’m drawn to real-life, deep issues where the characters face seemingly impossible challenges and overcome through faith and hope in Christ. If the books are based on true stories, even better. I read not only for enjoyment, but for spiritual growth and inspiration. So, that’s what I’m writing.

What advice would you give to other writers who hope to someday write and publish a book?

I’d say go into it with realistic expectations, and make sure it’s what God has called you to do, or you won’t stick with it. I jumped in with both feet and my head in the clouds, having no idea what I was getting into. There’s so much more that goes into publishing a book than writing it. I continually remind myself that God opened this door and led me through it, so I keep plugging along.

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

Sleep. LOL

Seriously, when I’m not doing laundry, cleaning the house, cooking, or taking care of those “have to” responsibilities, I’m usually in my office doing something writing related.

For fun, I enjoy hanging out with my family and playing board games. My son’s a board game fanatic and is always introducing us to a new game. And of course, I love reading every spare minute I can find, which is usually in bed right before I go to sleep. When the weather’s nice, I like bike riding.

What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your books?

That I could just sit at my computer and type out an entire story without making an outline ahead of time. By nature, I’m a planner. I despise spur-of-the-moment decisions and always prepare for everything way in advance. When I tried to plot out my second novel, it didn’t work. The characters took me where they wanted to go, and it wasn’t where I had planned.

As a child, what did you want to do when you grew up?

When I was in elementary school, I wanted to be a teacher. As I got older, I wanted to be a lawyer but determined that would take too much schooling. I was a super-fast typist, so I considered court-reporting but I couldn’t decide and didn’t want to waste my parents’ money or my time, so I opted not to attend college, went to work at a bank, and then married six months later.

For fun, what’s your favorite snack when you’re writing?

Trail mix.

Where can people learn more about your work and connect with you?

People can find out more about me and my work on my website. And I love connecting through my newsletter and on social media. If readers are interested in following my writing journey, subscribing to my newsletter is the best way to stay up to date. And subscribers will get a free download of my novelette, Behind the Scenes.

They can aslo find more information at the following sites:

Website

Newsletter Subscription

As a Jesus girl for more than thirty years, Deena understands how important hope is to daily life. That’s why she’s passionate about inspiring others through writing hope-filled fiction and highlighting other Christian authors on her blog.

Deena is an active member of ACFW and two Virginia writer groups, board member of ACFW Virginia, founder of the Marathon online writer’s group, 2019 Foundations contest finalist, 2019 First Impressions contest double finalist and winner, and 2021 Genesis contest finalist.

She lives with her husband near the coast in beautiful Virginia. When she’s not writing, reading, or serving in her church, you’ll find her hanging out with family and friends and doting on her seven grandchildren.

Thank you to Deena for taking part in Tell Me More About . . . today. Do you know someone I should feature? Let me know in the comments.

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Published on September 09, 2021 04:00

When a scare reminds you what matters most

It could have been worse. It could have ended differently. Still, I can’t seem to stop my head from playing the what-if game. I laid awake much of Labor Day night watching Little Miss Sleep, making sure her chest was rising and falling.

We still aren’t sure what happened. Little Miss and my dad saw a snake in his yard Labor Day afternoon. It was small, Dad could tell it wasn’t a venomous snake (little tip here: there are 22 species of snakes in our state, and only three are venomous), so he showed her how to pick it up and let her. Somehow the snake managed to bite her, but she didn’t drop it. Instead, it bit her again in the finger, and then she dropped it. She was calm about it all, but Dad told her to go wash her hands. She announced she’d been bit when she came in and I didn’t see anything but a blur as she ran past me and went into the bathroom. I was alarmed but assumed the snake was a Garter snake because those are the most common in our area.

What happened next was a blur of chaos. Little Miss came out of the bathroom, I think because I didn’t see her. Next thing I remember my mom said, “Oh!” and then my daughter crumpled to the kitchen floor by the table. Mom said Little Miss had smacked her chin off the table before she crumpled. My mind immediately went to her reacting to the snake bite.

My husband picked her up and held her. I cried, “Call an ambulance!” because I thought she’d been knocked out.

My mom and dad said I should calm down, that she’d hit her head, “let us look at her first, it wasn’t a venomous snake,” but then in the next second she slumped backward, almost out of my husband’s arms and it was him screaming to call the ambulance instead of me. He told me later her eyes were closed, and she wasn’t responding to him and he’d never felt so helpless.

It was like a crazy nightmare I couldn’t get out of. I literally thought, “this is happening. I’m going to lose my daughter. Tragedy has finally come to our family this time.” She was limp in his arms, and he was running outside. Then she woke for a moment, crying, and said, “I feel weird.”

A call to 911 brought an ambulance in about ten minutes but it felt like a lifetime to us. She was talking but out of it. Lethargic, saying how tired she was. Her finger where the snake bit her had a small spot but it wasn’t swollen. She said it didn’t really hurt.

Her eyes didn’t look right the entire time and the 911 dispatcher told me not to let her stand on her own and to keep the hand that had been bit below heart level.

When the EMTs arrived they examined her, checked her heart rate and oxygen and they were good, but she still didn’t look right and none of us were sure if she’d started to pass out before she hit the table or if the hit on the table had knocked her out. There were no marks on her head, but a small scratch showed up there yesterday.

She was trembling on the gurney so the one EMT suggested we sit her on the bank in front of my parents’ house next to her brother and see if that would help her calm down. I sat next to her but she couldn’t hold herself upright and her head kept rolling a bit. Her eyes looked weird, and she kept saying she was tired. Less than five minutes of sitting there the EMT came out of the ambulance where he was filling out paperwork with my husband and said, “I think we need to take her. Her eyes don’t look right, and I would feel better if we took her.”

I immediately agreed and realized that the entire time I thought he was just sitting in the ambulance helping my husband and the other responder fill out paperwork, he was actually watching Little Miss and using his training to tell she wasn’t fine at all, no matter what she’d tried to tell them earlier.

Little Miss cried because she didn’t want to go. She said he wanted her brother to go with her and I offered to go but my husband held her tight and said he was going in the ambulance with her. I think he was afraid to let her go after the way she’d passed out in his arms earlier.

They quickly took off and my mom told my dad to drive me. Dad was worried about finishing the hamburgers we were grilling and also trying to keep me calm so he was moving a little slow for my liking. I finally left without him, my mind racing through all the scenarios of what could be wrong with Little Miss. I think my brain was moving too fast for me to even cry or flip out.

It’s odd. I didn’t feel the overwhelming panic I often do over simple things. This was a “big thing” where I should have been totally cracking up, complete with the trembling hands and weak knees and light head. Instead, I just kept praying, asking the Holy Spirit to take over, and trying to think of anything but what might be happening at the hospital.

“Look, three maroon vehicles in a row, how strange.”

“Look, this man in front of me refuses to move off the road even while I honk my horn at him to indicate that I am obviously in the middle of an emergency.”

“Do water trucks always drive this slow?”

Once in the ER exam room, seeing my daughter sitting up, crying, but much more alert than she had been only a half an hour earlier, I felt calmer, yet still wanted to scoop her up and run as far away as possible from the building and wake up from this nightmare we were all having.

We never did find evidence the snake even broke the skin. Neither did the doctor. Tests were done to see if she had any signs of venom in her and they came back negative. The hospital kept her for several hours to see if there were any changes and then we finally were able to take her home.

My dad looked up the snake and we are all certain it was a milk snake, which is a harmless snake that doesn’t even have fangs. That probably means she either had a lot of adrenaline going in her making her pass out or that the blackout came after she hit the table, not before. We aren’t sure, even though she says she started to feel funny and began to blackout before she hit the table.

One funny story from the day was when the EMT said to me, “Do you have the snake?”

We said we didn’t, and he looked relieved. “Oh, thank God. I hate snakes and I was so afraid I’d have to see it.”

Wondering if you will hold your child in your arms alive again puts a lot in perspective. Things that once mattered really don’t anymore. Things that seemed important no longer are.

It is similar to how I approached life after my aunt passed away at the very end of 2017. I weeded out what didn’t matter and focused on what did. I won’t be online as much, that’s for sure. There is a lot of life to enjoy beyond a screen and digital device and I plan to enjoy it with her, my son, and my husband.

You might be wondering if I watched Little Miss all night that night while she slept. I absolutely did and didn’t let her out of my sight most of the next day. I probably won’t be letting her out of my sight for a long time. I can’t seem to stop worrying that something else will happen to her, that if I don’t watch her all the time she could fall or pass out again. It’s illogical, I know, but I can’t seem to shake the feelings or thoughts.

I see her crumpling to the floor and falling backward out of my husband’s arms over and over again in my mind. I seem to have slight PTSD from it all (though I do not mean to trivialize true cases of PTSD from war or abusive situations).

You might also wonder if my daughter, the snake-loving almost 7-year-old still likes snakes. Last night she told me, “I love snakes. Being bit by one is not going to stop me. I’m still going to search out every snake ever.”

She has agreed, however, to only look at them, not pick them up.

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Published on September 08, 2021 04:00

Reading books about how to write novels is making writing novels not fun for me

I wrote this on my Instagram the other day: “Nothing destroys the fun of writing novels for me than reading books about how to write a novel. Now I’m so in my head I can’t hear anything but rules.”

It is true, guys/gals. I sat in my living room last night with two craft books, a notebook, and a pen and thought, “Okay. I am going to outline this sucker and I am going to figure out what my two characters dark moments are and . . .” And I just stared at the page.

Read more of this post at Hope, Hearts, and Heroes where I have joined with other Christian writers to share about our writing journey as well as some of our writings.

Read the rest

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Published on September 07, 2021 04:00

Book Review: Husband Auditions by Angela Ruth Strong Book Tour with Audra Jennings PR

Book Title: Husband Auditions by Angela Ruth Strong

Genre: Christian Romantic Comedy

Publisher: Kregel Publications

Release Date: August 17, 2021

Description: How far would you go to find the perfect husband? All the way back to the 1950s?

In a world full of happily-ever-after love, Meri Newberg feels like the last young woman on the planet to be single, at least in her Christian friend group. So when she’s handed a strange present at the latest wedding–a 1950s magazine article of “ways to get a husband”–she decides there’s nothing to lose by trying out its advice. After all, she can’t get any more single, can she?

Her brother’s roommate sees the whole thing as a great opportunity. Not to fall in love–Kai Kamaka has no interest in the effort a serious relationship takes. No, this is a career jump start. He talks Meri into letting him film every silly husband-catching attempt for a new online show. If it goes viral, his career as a cameraman will be made.

When Meri Me debuts, it’s an instant hit. People love watching her lasso men on street corners, drop handkerchiefs for unsuspecting potential beaus, and otherwise embarrass herself in pursuit of true love. But the longer this game goes on, the less sure Kai is that he wants Meri to snag anyone but him. The only problem is that he may not be the kind of husband material she’s looking for . . .

With droll comic timing, unbeatable chemistry, and a zany but relatable cast of characters, Angela Ruth Strong has created a heartfelt look at the reality of modern Christian dating that readers will both resonate with and fall for.

REVIEW

This is a witty and humorous/light hearted and fun read. The characters are — specifically Meri and Kai, but also Gemma — are immediately likeable.

What I liked about this book was how real and raw it was, mixed in with the humor. I loved how Strong wasn’t afraid to be blunt about issues of marriage without being crass or crude. When the subject of sex in marriage was broached, it was done so in a mature, natural, and to the point manner without descriptions or any kind of detail. In other words, there are zero sex scene in this book, making it very clean; but the subject was discussed in a very appropriate way.

Strong also knows how to get in the head of a man and show how clueless they can be sometimes. I know. That sounds super sexist but let me explain. Men and women are wired differently (obviously). Men don’t often sit and debate issues in their head to death like a lot of women do. Men just go do things and figure it out later.

That’s not always bad, but sometimes, like Kai in this book, it is. I love the differences between men and women and too many female authors write their male characters like they are women — emotional, sentimental, dramatic.

That’s not realistic.

Strong wrote a realistic man in this book, which is why there are many women who aren’t going to like him. I, for one, did. I don’t know if I agreed with some of the ideas that he or Meri had that led to the ending of this book, but it has me thinking and I don’t see that as a bad thing.

I see women reviewers write things like, “I didn’t connect with HIM”, about books like Strongs all the time. The reason for that is because the author wrote a realistic male character, and most female readers want to read a book where the man thinks and acts like a woman. That’s just weird. If I’m not confused by the male character, then I know the author doesn’t know how to write from the point of view of a man.

Bottom line, this was a fun and easy read that I needed and one I have a lot of other people need these days. Yes, it featured some deep thoughts and challenges, especially for Christians, but those deep thoughts aren’t enough to pull the book, or reader, down.

I received a complimentary copy through Audra Jennings Book PR, which did not require a positive review. All opinions are my own.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Angela Ruth Strong sold her first Christian romance novel in 2009 then quit writing romance when her husband left her. Ten years later, God has shown her the true meaning of love, and there’s nothing else she’d rather write about.

She is the author of the Resort to Love series and the CafFUNated mysteries. Her books have since earned TOP PICK in Romantic Times, won the Cascade Award, and been Amazon best-sellers. Finding Love in Big Sky was recently filmed on location in Montana and will air soon. Her latest release is Husband Auditions.

Strong also writes non-fiction for SpiritLed Woman. To help aspiring authors, she started IDAhope Writers where she lives in Idaho and teaches as an expert online at Write That Book.

Learn more at www.angelaruthstrong.com, and follow her on Facebook (Angela Ruth Strong Fan Page), Twitter (@AngelaRStrong), and Instagram (@ang_strong).

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Published on September 06, 2021 04:01

Sunday Bookends: The Last Swim, Cooler Nights, Family Visits and classic books

Welcome to Sunday Bookends where I ramble about what I’m reading, writing, doing, watching, blah, blah. Feel free to share what you are reading, writing, doing, watching, blah, blah, blah in the comments or a post of your own. And don’t worry, this week I’m not focusing on anything political or stressful like the other day. That’s not a usual thing for my blog, luckily.

What’s Been Occurring

This week temperatures dropped in our area, and it was wonderful. We pulled out the comforters at night even. We were finally able to shut off the air conditioners after weeks of humid weather that made me feel like a wet noodle and simply out of it. I will miss being able to swim in the pool, but other than that, I won’t miss the humidity of our summer.

We had our last swim in the pool last Sunday. I stayed in as long as I could because I knew it would be my last time to feel the water cool around me and instead we will soon feel cool air around us. I don’t mind that as long as I am inside with a good book or show, of course. *wink*

My dad even got in for a bit, which he rarely does.

We started school this past week, as I mentioned in a previous post, and spent time outside almost every day with hands-on learning with Little Miss because she’s really not a fan of bookwork. We still did bookwork, but we just did less this week than she would have done in a traditional school setting, which is what works for her.

Friday night my dad suggested we all go to the county fair for the truck pull. The kids, dad and I, and a friend of my son’s, went to the tiny fairgrounds and ate some fair food, bought a few used books, rode some kiddie rides (Little Miss), saw people we knew, and then the boys watched the truck pull with my dad. The noise was too much for Little Miss who opted to go into a jump house and eat ice cream instead.

The stands were packed for the pulls on new concrete barrier seats which made the site look like a mini collesium.

Even though the fairgrounds aren’t that large, Little Miss’s legs were tired after a few trips back and forth across it. After we got to the rides, I realized The Boy had my keys, so I had to walk all the way back to where he was to get them. There is no – *gasp* — cell service at the fairgrounds so I couldn’t text The Boy to ask them to bring the keys to me. This fair is literally, in the middle of nowhere.

I didn’t eat the fair food because of all my health stuff, but I did break a couple of pieces of Little Miss’s pizza off. It wasn’t too bad, but I can’t say it made me miss pizza that much. It left me with a little bit of acid reflux, as wheat products often do when I sneak them, but that also could have been the chocolate and chips I snuck earlier in the day. Yes, I try to eat healthy but even I snap at times, especially lately for some reason.

I found a book sale there, which was fun for me. I’ve started seeking book sales out now that I’m reading more than I used to. I love finding some gems. This week I found the last two books in a series by Ted Dekker. I apparently have a talent for finding the last books in a series. Last time I found the last three in a Terri Blackstock series and later found the first one on sale on kindle. I would still like to find the paperback of the first to go with the other three I have in paperback. Now I will have to find the first book in this series, which may have been at that sale if I had looked closer, but I was tired of looking.

My husband had a different fair to cover for the newspaper and he grabbed this awesome shot at a horse show during it.

Yesterday we traveled two hours away to visit my aunt who will be 89 in November. She’s being moved into a nursing home some time in the near future so we wanted to try to see her at home before the nursing home rules made it more difficult.

She had a small stroke a few years ago and she isn’t able to smile much so her expression may have appeared stoic, but she told me she really enjoyed the visit. This is the first time we have visited her in a couple of years for a variety of reasons, mainly because of You Know What, but also because the last time we planned to see her, earlier in the summer, she ended up in the hospital and we were told she wasn’t doing well. We honestly thought that we would not see her in her house again, or even alive again.

My dad prayed for her and asked the church to pray. When he reached the hospital she was responding to antibiotics doctors had started because it turned out she had a severe urinary tract infection. I had suspected that, hoping it was that and not another stroke, and luckily the doctors had as well. UTIs in the elderly are known to lead to hallucinations and delirium. There is your medical tip for the day.

She’s doing well now and they are working on getting her into a home, but there have been some complications (the staff is on strike, for one). Currently, she lives at home with 24-7 nurse care.

She can’t walk well and tires easily but she’s mentally sharp, just like her mom, my grandmother, was at the same age and beyond.

Leaving her was a bit heartbreaking. My daughter loves going to see her and gave her a big hug and my aunt said as they hugged. “I wish I was young again like her.”

We enjoyed exploring my aunt’s yard while the adults visited. Wait. I’m supposed to be an adult too. I forgot. So, I did visit some, but also spent time in the yeard with Little Miss.

What I’m Reading

I’ve been reading a couple of chapters a day of Anne of Green Gables, savoring and enjoying how I can escape inside a book, leaving the craziness of the world behind.

I am reading a couple of books for book tours, one for an author friend, and, yes, I am still reading Another Man’s Moccasins by Craig Johnson.

Little Miss and I are reading Benjamin West and His Cat Grimalkin by Marguerite Henry during the day for school and The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder at night before bed.

The Long Winter is stressing me out. I’m sure I read it as a child but I can’t remember what happens or how they get through this winter. Of course, I know they do because Laura lived to write the books. What’s really driving me crazy is how Almanzo (who she is not yet married to) and his brother Royal offer food to Charles Ingalls and Charles eats it, knowing his family is across town starving to death.

Laura and her sisters and Ma are eating brown bread and potatoes for months while Royal and Almanzo are eating bacon and pancakes and all kinds of wonderful food. It makes me want to scream! Of course, it is becoming clear that Almanzo will save the town by finding wheat for them during some seven months of back-to-back blizzards, but in the meantime, I’m just flabbergasted that Pa didn’t take meat home to his family since they had been craving it. I know the book doesn’t include every detail so it’s possible that in real life he did take them home some bacon. I should probably calm down and cancel that whole campaign to have the book canceled. *wink*

I’ve been reading even after Little Miss falls asleep, but then I feel guilty and bookmark it until the next night. The cold weather we’ve been having has actually fit in well with reading a book called The Long Winter.

The Boy is reading a book called Know Why You Believe by Paul Little for school. In a couple of weeks, he will be reading about Thomas Jefferson and the Declaration of Independence, which I think a lot more of us Americans should read in our lifetime.

What I’m Watching

My son and I started To Kill A Mockingbird for school this week and have not finished it yet together. I did watch the end of it myself. We read the book last year for school. The acting in the movie was amazing and I am not surprised Gregory Peck won the Oscar for best actor for it.

The Boy and I watched The Russians Are Coming. He and his friend are fascinated with Russian history. If you haven’t seen this movie it is a comedy, or. . . what. It was made in 1966 at the height of all the drama between the United States and Russia. I’m not sure what to make of it. I can’t say it was good. I can’t say it was bad. It was just . . . uh. . . interesting.

It stars Carl Reiner, Eva Marie Saint, Alan Arkin, Jonathan Winters, etc.

I also continued to watch some The House of Eliot, about sisters who start a fashion business in the 1920s.

What I’m Listening To

This week I enjoyed listening to Elevation Worship’s album Graves Into Gardens (Morning and Evenings) and some more of Danny Gokey’s latest.

What I’m Writing

I’m working on The Next Chapter (the third book in the Spencer Valley Chronicles). I posted the tentative first chapter Friday.

Blog posts this week on my blog included:

Homeschooling Notes: Learning doesn’t have to happen at a desk

The fallacy of the current narrative that the unvaccinated deserve to die

Fiction Friday: The Next Chapter Chapter 1

Looking back at August through photos

Blog posts I liked this week

I enjoyed a few blog posts from other blogs this week, including:

Pain Awareness Month from Brainless Blogger.

Let Go and Let God by For His Purpose

The Vaccine Requirement by Manitoba Blog

Good Grief by Fuel For the Race

So that’s my week in review. How about you? What are you reading, watching, listening to, or doing these days? Let me know in the comments.

Little Miss found a grasshopper in the yard the matched her pants.

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Published on September 05, 2021 07:06

Looking back at August through photos

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Published on September 04, 2021 04:00

Fiction Friday: The Next Chapter Chapter 1

I wasn’t sure about blogging a fiction story again, but, it’s kind of fun so I thought I’d share a little of The Next Chapter, which is the next book in the Spencer Valley Chronicles.

If you haven’t read the other books, you don’t have to to read this, but if you want some background on some of the characters who are mentioned, you can find the first book in the series, The Farmer’s Daughter, and the second book, Harvesting Hope, on Amazon.

If you are new to Fiction Friday, I share stories I am working on and there is always a good chance there will be typos and errors. I edit the story again before I later publish it through Amazon as a book.

Anyhow . . . let us begin The Next Chapter.

Chapter 1

Giving birth to a baby in the front of a pickup truck on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere was not what Liz Cranmer had planned when she told the midwife she wanted a natural birth. Even more mortifying had been whose pickup it had been.

If she hadn’t been in so much pain in the moment when Matt McGee had jumped into position to catch the baby, she would been overwhelmed by mortifying horror.

Even in the midst of humiliation, she couldn’t deny that the calming tone of his voice had helped keep her from completely freaking out. “Don’t worry, El,” he said. “I’m trained for this. It’s going to be fine.”

Fine? No.

Nothing was fine about giving birth to a baby in the front seat of the truck of the man she’d gone on three dates with before — well, before this baby had taken up residence inside her womb.

Her heart had hammered inside her ribcage like a trapped bird throughout the entire ordeal, which gratefully had only taken about 15 minutes. All those warnings her birthing instructor had given her, reminding her that a first baby would lead to a long, drawn-out birth process, had turned out to be completely wrong.

Now, alone in a hospital room, starring at a sleeping baby in a portable hospital crib, her heart was at it again, her breathing racing to keep up with it.

A baby.

They are sending me home with a baby? Me?

Had the doctor and nurses lost their minds?

She was barely able to take care of herself most days, let alone a baby.

Still, she was the one who’d decided she wanted to keep this baby. Who else would the hospital send her home with?

Her.

Wow.

Liz let out a long breath.

The baby, who Liz hadn’t even named yet.

Naming the tiny form next to her wasn’t even on her radar at the moment. Trying to slow her breathing was.

Another panic attack. Great.

She’d had three in the last six hours since her parents, best friend, and — good grief — Matt had gone home to get some sleep, or rather, so she could get some sleep.

Sleep. Yeah right. That would be nice. If she could get it.

She’d slept two hours and been awake ever since, her mind racing and screaming for some sort of normalcy.

She supposed she should notify the nurse she was having panic attacks, but maybe it was normal for a woman to have panic attacks after having a baby on her own, without a father, and after lying to her best friend about how she became pregnant in the first place.

Closing her eyes, she tried to remember the grounding exercise the therapist she’d gone to a couple of years ago had taught her.

What was it again? Three things you can touch, smell, and see? It probably wasn’t that at all but at this moment it was all she had to go on.

Three things to touch. She looked around frantically then ran the palm of her hand across the surface of the sheets on the bed under her, taking a deep breath. Soft, smooth, cool. Cool except under her leg where it had been touching the bed.

The side table where the nurse had placed the lunch she hadn’t been able to eat. Smooth surface, except for — ew. Something sticky on the corner. Probably maple syrup from the pancakes she hadn’t eaten earlier in the day, but her mom had tried to get her to eat.

Teddy bear. She squeezed it between her hands, felt the softness of it and took another breath.

Getting better. Breathing slower, heartrate down.

Okay. Three things she could smell. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The sweet smell of the spilled maple syrup, for one. Two . . . oh no.

She leaned her head toward the crib and sniffed.

The baby obviously needed changing. She hoped the nurse would come in soon and show her how to do that.

Never mind the third thing to smell. Her sense of smell had been destroyed by the dirty diaper.

Her heartrate was practically normal now and her breathing was slowing. Still, three things to see . . . Um.

The bright sunflowers across the room by the window from her best friend Molly. There was one.

She stopped focusing on her racing heart and the tremor in her hands as she searched for something else to identify.

Her gaze drifted across the room toward the doorway, searching for two more things to see. Sunlight sending patterns of light across the wardrobe where her mom had placed her duffle bag, an extra pillow and some “going home” clothes for the baby.

Her eyes moved again, searching.

A police officer in full uniform, leaning against the doorway, arms folded across his chest, smirking.

Oh no.

Her heartrate increased again. So much for calming her racing heart, but at least the panic attack had subsided some.

The police officer’s smirk faded, and he stepped forward into the room, a much more serious expression on his face now.

“I was going to say I caught you not sleeping, but I don’t think you’re in the mood for teasing.” He stopped a foot from her, his brow furrowed. “You okay? You’re very pale.”

Matt McGee and his infuriating perceptive tendencies.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t look fine.”

She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. “I’m just a little anxious about everything. I’m sure it’s just a hormone shift.”

When she opened her eyes, she could tell he wasn’t buying it. Luckily, he didn’t have time to tell her he wasn’t buying it.

Nurse Wendy, all 5 feet 1 inches of her, swept into the room with her usual perky demeanor.

“How are we doing in here? Were you able to get any rest? That little precious bundle of joy wasn’t keeping you up, was she?”

Liz shook her head. “She’s been sleeping the whole time. My brain just won’t shut off.”

The nurse sniffed. “Oh. I guess she was doing a little business during her sleeping.”

“Yeah, I hadn’t got over there yet.” Liz’s face flushed warm. She wasn’t about to tell the nurse how terrified she was of changing the baby’s diaper.

The nurse probably knew by how she let out a soft chuckle as she reached for the diaper under the crib.

“It takes a bit to get used to it.” She winked. “I’ll give you a few pointers to help you feel more confident.”

With the baby changed and her hands washed, Wendy turned back to the paperwork she’d carried in with her.

“So have you had time to think of a name for the baby? We’ve got the birth certificate paperwork here.”

Liz had been thinking about a name, had run it by her mom and Molly before they’d left, but she hesitated. Choosing the name for a child was a big responsibility. What if she grew up to hate her own name? Or her nickname? Liz wasn’t necessarily fond of the way her name had been shortened from Elizabeth to Liz, but she also couldn’t imagine herself as an Elizabeth since it sounded so pretentious to her and contrary to her personality.

She took a deep breath. The baby had to have a name. She’d better just go for it.

“Isabella Molly Cranmer.”

The nurse smiled. “That’s a beautiful name.” She filled in the paper then looked up. “Okay, so, now we have the baby and mom’s name. All we need is the father’s name.”

Liz’s hands went numb. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. She looked at her hands in her lap and twisted them together for a few moments before looking back up.

The nurse glanced at Matt and smiled. She seemed to be waiting for him to say something. Liz played with the edge of her blanket, avoiding eye contact, but shifting her gaze to Matt briefly.

Matt stared blankly at the nurse for a few seconds before appearing to register the reason for her pointed expression.

Liz looked between the two, startled realization slamming into her. “Um — oh. No. He’s not —”

“It’s Matt.” He shifted himself between the bed and the nurse, tilting his head to look at the paper in the nurse’s hand. “Or Matthew rather. Matthew McGee. That’s McGee with the G capitalized.”

Liz’s eyes widened and she shook her head ever so slightly. “What are you doing?” she mouthed, only he wasn’t looking at her. His back was to her. He was still looking over the nurses’ shoulder, checking her spelling. “Yep. That’s right.”

“Middle name?” the nurse asked.

Whose middle name? Matt’s? Liz didn’t even know his middle name.

“Matthew Grant McGee.”

Grant. Oh. That was a nice middle name. His grandfather’s last name had been Grant maybe that was —

“After my grandfather,” he told Wendy, as if she had asked. “He and his siblings didn’t have any sons, so I carry on the Grant name as my middle name.”

Wendy glanced up, smiled. “That’s nice.” She finished writing and picked up the paper, then paused, brow furrowing. “Oh wait. We wrote the baby’s last name down as Cramner. Shouldn’t we have —”

Liz imagined her heartrate must be at a thousand beats per minute at this point.

“Oh right.” Matt smiled. Liz scowled at him. He sure was quick on his feet today. She planned to knock him off those feet as soon as this nurse left.

He cleared his throat, focusing his gaze on Liz. “Well, it’s just —”

Wendy held up a hand. “You’re not married. No problem at all. I apologize. That’s really none of my business.”

Matt coughed nervously. “Oh, gosh, no. It’s okay, it’s just —”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, hon’.” Wendy smiled and winked. “Happens all the time these days.” She slid the birth certificate under the clip on her clipboard. “Okay then, mom and dad, I’ll get this paperwork to the records office, they’ll send it on to the state health department and in six weeks or so you will have an official birth certificate for little Isabella here.”

Liz’s chest constricted. An official birth certificate with Matt’s name listed as the father of her child.

As soon as the nurse left the room, Liz looked at Matt, who was clearly refusing to make eye contact. He was bent over the crib smiling at the child he’d just claimed as his own.

“What was that, Matt?” she hissed.

He looped his finger under Isabella’s tiny fingers, glancing at Liz. “What was what?”

Liz tilted her gaze to the ceiling and huffed out a breath. “Are you serious? You can’t just say you’re her father. I mean that nurse is taking it to the official records office. They’re sending it to the state. Isn’t that like fraud or something? We could get arrested.”

Matt laughed softly, his eyes still on the baby. “Arrested for what? For making sure your crazy ex-boyfriend has no say in the life of this gorgeous little girl?” He looked over at Liz. “Or do you want Gabe in both of your lives?”

Her blood ran cold. Of course, she didn’t want Gabe in her life again. She never should have had him in it the first place. She shook her head slowly, tears stinging her eyes.

“Then it’s done. No one else has to know we put me down as her dad anyhow. I just did it so she didn’t have to have Gabe’s name associated with her. It’s better that way.”

Liz swiped the edge of her finger under her eye. Why was Matt protecting her? They’d gone out on three dates and then — Gabe. That night at Gabe’s apartment when she let him talk her into . . .

Her eyes widened. She gasped. “They send those to the newspaper. Go catch that nurse. Ask her to keep our names off that list.”

For the first time, Matt looked alarmed at what he’d done. Did he really want everyone at his job and church knowing, or rather believing, he’d fathered a baby out of wedlock? Liz didn’t think so.

“I’ll talk to the nurse on my way out,” he said with a shrug. “It’ll be fine.”

It will be fine? Was that his favorite word? Fine. Was he serious? Nothing about all of this — from having a baby without a husband to Matt claiming Isabella as his own — was fine.

“She’s fussy,” he said as the baby squirmed in the crib. “You want me to bring her to you?”

Why would she want him to bring the baby to him? What was she supposed to do?

Oh, right. She was her mother and early this morning, in a total state of exhaustion, she’d told the nurse she planned to breastfeed.

Her.

Liz Cramner. Royal screw up, actually thought she could breastfeed a baby. What had she been thinking? She had obviously been reading too many baby books or something.

When the lactation consultant had shown her how to help the baby latch on, she’d been terrified her idea of breastfeeding would be a failure. It hadn’t failed, though. Isabella had latched on immediately, her little fingers lightly touching her own cheek as she suckled. The warmth of the newborn’s body against Liz’s bare chest had stilled her racing heart for the first time since her water had broken while she and Matt were walking along the lake.

She watched Matt slide his hands under Isabella’s tiny head and body, scooping her into his arms like he’d held a baby a thousand times before. Had he held a baby a thousand times before? Liz wasn’t sure. She knew he had a brother and sister, a couple nieces and nephews. How did she not know more about them or about Matt in general? Maybe because for the last year and a half she’d been so focused on herself she hadn’t bothered to even ask or notice.

Matt cradled Isabella as he walked. Liz marveled at the way he held her like she was the most precious thing in the world, the smile curving his mouth upward as he looked down at her. “Hey, there, little one. How are you today? Are you ready for Mama to hold you again?”

Mama.

Liz’s breath caught, taking in the word, the scene before her.

A mom? Her?

It was surreal.

As surreal as Officer Matt McGee, the man she knew was way too good for her, bending toward her, laying a baby in her arms. A baby that wasn’t even his but who he had claimed as his own only moments before.

“She’s got your eyes,” he said softly.

Liz swallowed hard, looking into tiny eyes taking in everything around her, then focusing on the face of the woman who gave birth to her.

But she’s got Gabe’s nose and ears, Liz thought, a hard knot forming in her stomach.

Oh, Matt, she should have your nose and ears. How could I have been so stupid?

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Published on September 03, 2021 04:00