Davalynn Spencer's Blog, page 9
December 10, 2023
When God Interrupts
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Mary was once a common name for Jewish girls. It’s been a common name for other girls as well, primarily because of the first Mary mentioned in the Bible who was, in my opinion, quite uncommon.
Uncommon because of the way she handled interruptions.
Like most of us, Mary had plans for her life. Probably in her mid-teens, she was engaged and planning for a wedding, a husband, and life as a Jewish wife and homemaker when God interrupted.
Who knows what Mary was in the middle of when a stranger showed up and said, “Greetings, favored woman! The Lord is with you!” (Luke 1:28 NLT).
She could have been folding laundry. She could have been frying pan bread. She could have been mending clothes and counting the days until the big event. It’s like God to show up in the mundane when we’re not expecting him.
But she listened to the messenger, asked a question, considered his explanation, and said, “Okay.”
That’s the part that amazes me about this Mary. She didn’t once say, “But I’ve made plans …” or “I have a life …” or “Now’s not a good time.”
She said okay (rough translation – see Luke 1:38).
That’s not exactly how I respond when my plans are interrupted.
Author and literary scholar, C.S. Lewis, says we should not regard unpleasant things as interruptions of our “own” or “real” life:
“The truth is of course that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one’s real life—the life God is sending one day by day.”
This season brings frequent references to Mary, so it may be the perfect time to transform our own reactions into responses—an exercise that involves choice.
Mary didn’t have to comply. She wasn’t forced to go along with the change of plans. She chose to.
And for what it’s worth, there is no scripture reference that the expectant Mary rode a donkey on her 90-mile trip from Nazareth to Bethlehem. It is a kindness we infer upon Joseph, her betrothed – the man entrusted by the Creator to care for the Savior of the world and His mother.
Clearly, Joseph was as uncommon and willingly obedient as Mary when God interrupted his life.
In the coming days and weeks, how will we handle things (like our temper and mood) when God interrupts our lives?
The Christmas Story:
~
When God Interrupts
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December 3, 2023
The Imagery of Christmas
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
One man’s idea of born-in-a-barn is the forerunner of some of our contemporary Christmas décor. Tradition says this man was so disturbed by the secular materialism around Christmas, that he staged a living nativity scene or crèche to draw attention to the birth of Christ. No glitz, no glitter. Just a couple of animals, some hay, and a baby in a feed trough set up in a cave near Greccio, Italy.
That was 800 years ago, and Friar Francis of Assisi was on to something. However, secular materialism didn’t go away. I wonder what Francis would think today of our inflatable snowmen, Santas, and reindeer?
Different cultures celebrate the birth of Christ in different ways. I enjoy the feel-good memories stirred by the aroma of freshly cut pine trees, hot eggnog, and just-baked sugar cookies. And like Francis of Assisi, I cherish the nativity scenes I’ve collected over the years.
One is a Christmas tree ornament of Mary riding a donkey led by Joseph. One is a set of wooden nesting boxes called Matryoshka in Russian, or babushka dolls elsewhere. Another is comprised of beautifully life-like statues, but my favorite is made up of old plaster figurines now chipped and faded that my mother let me set up each Christmas on the coffee table.
However, none of my manger scenes is as realistic as the first one in Greccio, Italy. Likely, no mother volunteered her new-born that Christmas to depict Christ in Francis’s living nativity, but neither do my scenes accurately portray a newborn babe. Each child’s head is covered with wavy hair or golden curls, arms lifted as if in blessing, and an angelic smile kissing his features.
Those of us who have seen newborns know this is not an accurate portrayal.
Of baby Jesus, Scripture says that Mary “wrapped him in swaddling clothes …” (Luke 2:7), which means she wrapped her child snuggly in cloths, a technique still used around the world today to comfort a newborn.
But we want beautiful imagery, not realism, right? In birth as well as death.
My jewelry collection contains several cross earrings and necklaces. This imagery reminds me of Jesus, but it certainly doesn’t portray his suffering or the ugliness of the death-tree upon which he hung.
The picturesque crown of thorns I display at Easter brings to mind the twisted brambles shoved upon the Savior’s brow in mockery.
Over the years, the imagery has all come together in my home. Baby Jesus was born to die.
For me. For all of us.
Despite the lack of visual authenticity, Christmas is my favorite holiday—not because of the beautiful lights, trees, and nativity scenes, but because it flaunts the defeat of our enemy by a newborn.
Jesus at His most vulnerable point could not be bested by Satan.
This fact reminds me that in spite of what the enemy or circumstances hurl at me, God is still in control. He’s got this and, therefore, Joy To the World!
Joy to you this Christmas!
For unto to you
is born this day
in the city of David
a Savior,
which is Christ the Lord.
Luke 2:11
~
Joy to you this Christmas!
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Anticipation hung in Ara’s heart like diamond icicles, sparkling and pure. Cradled as they were on the breast of the mountain, glitter and glamour didn’t fill the house. Instead, the special care given to selected recipes and homemade gifts graced this home. The scent of cider and cinnamon and cloves curtained the kitchen, and star-shaped cookies winked from red yarn on the popcorn-and cranberry-laced spruce.
Another snowfall had chased her out of her calico dress. She shrugged into a sheepskin coat and tucked the borrowed denims into her boot tops before making her way to the barn with the scrap can.
Just inside the barn’s wide door, she paused by a new wooden manger filled with fresh hay as if awaiting a heavenly guest. Bending to breathe in the grassy perfume, she closed her eyes and marveled at the simple pleasure. A scuffling step said Buck was near.
“It’s an offering.” He stopped beside her and fluffed the hay with his large, rough hands. “He came to stockmen, you know. Like us. And His ma made His bed in a barn.”
Ara’s heart warmed at Buck’s uncharacteristic tenderness. “It’s a wonderful gift. Exactly what the Christ child would need.”
His thick brows rose with hope. “You really think so?”
“Of course. Warmth and shelter and love. The same things we all need. I’m sure He would have been most comfortable in this crib you’ve made.”
A smile puffed out his whiskers, and Ara swallowed a laugh. Such pleasure in a modest gift made from what one had at hand. ~The Snowbound Bride
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November 26, 2023
Share a Christmas Tradition for a chance to win a novella of your choice!
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Christmas memories rise around me each year like yeast rolls in a warm kitchen. Some are tender and sweet, and some carry a dash of heartache. I can choose which of them to carry with me and which to let go. No sense cluttering my heart with pain when I can fill it with goodness.
Christmas traditions are the same. I choose to repeat the good and discard the not-so-good. And this year I’m beginning a new one. Since there are twenty-four chapters in the Gospel of Luke, I’ll read one chapter each evening beginning Dec. 1. By Christmas Eve, I will have a fresh look at the life of Christ – our Reason for this amazing season.
What are some of your most cherished Christmas memories or traditions? Share one in the comments below and be entered for a chance to win a Christmas novella of your choice.
… and you are to call him Jesus.
Luke 1:31
~
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Congratulations, Dawn! You are the randomly chosen winner of last week’s giveaway novella, Mail-Order Misfire.
When the family finally gathered at the table, Abigale noted that each person had dressed for the occasion. The men were freshly shaved and wearing clean shirts, and Emmy and Ida wore pinafore aprons over their dresses and high color in their cheeks. The meal was as delicious as anticipated, and by the time everyone had finished dessert and moved to sit by the fire, Abigale felt as giddy as young Emmy. Her gaze strayed repeatedly to Seth, who seemed to watch her nearly as much as she watched him. She chose a chair easily moved and scooted it as far from the fire as possible without appearing rude to the people who had so generously welcomed her into their home.
Ben Holt took his place near the hearth and opened his Bible. Emmy propped her dolls around her where she sat on the floor, and Ida folded her hands in her aproned lap. Seth could have been standing on his head for all Abigale knew, because she refused to look at his handsome face.
Ben cleared his throat. “‘And it came to pass in those days …’”
Pop’s tradition had been similar, reading from the second chapter of Luke, though he did so on Christmas morning. Bittersweet memories laced through Abigale, and she looked at each one before tying them off and tucking them away.
“‘And so it was, that while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered …’”
Abigale considered, perhaps for the first time, the double meaning of the word delivered. As a woman, and a ranching woman at that, she had a clear understanding of what the Scripture was saying. Birth. New life. A fresh start with a high-priced risk. But this year the word struck her differently, for she had been delivered from deep sadness, loneliness, and fear. – Just in Time for Christmas
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November 19, 2023
Give Thanks … and a Giveaway
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
We hear it a lot, don’t we? The cloaked condemnation that demands we “Be grateful,” for “things could be worse,” and we “have it better than most.”
Some of us find it hard to swallow this Thanksgiving side-dish because we’ve filled ourselves on “But Why” pie and “It’s Not Fair” fillet.
However, I’ve discovered over the years that thankful-thinking really does work. Especially if I don’t start with—or wait for—my emotions to jump on the plate.
It’s not about feeling grateful, it’s about being grateful. And aren’t we, after all, human beings ?
Not that we should look heavenward and snipe, “Yeah, God, thanks a lot.” No. Save the sarcasm sauce for the cranberries.
Rather, realize we have a choice. And since our responses are probably the only things over which we truly have control, why not choose gratitude?
It’s easier if we start with small bites.
Give thanks for the hot coffee in your cup. Give thanks for the cup.
How about that person who smiled at you in the market? (If no one smiled, maybe you could start the process.)
What about the glorious reboot of seasonal change? Remember, it’s not sweltering summer or withering winter forever.
Do you have a Bible to read – pixel or paper? Do you have clothes and shoes to wear? Breath in your lungs?
The fact that we’re on this side of the grass and not under it is worthy of appreciation.
“Yes, but life is so unfair,” you may argue. And you’d be right. Life is unfair.
Maybe you see things differently, but as for me, I am extremely grateful that I don’t get what I deserve.
May the Giver of every good and perfect gift warm your soul and fill your heart this Thanksgiving season.
~
List at least one thing for which you are grateful in the comments below. I’ll enter your name in a drawing for a free copy of my e-book, Mail-Order Misfire, a tender Thanksgiving tale of hope and second chances.
~
In everything give thanks,
for this is the will of God
in Christ Jesus concerning you.
I Thessalonians 5:18
A tender Thanksgiving tale.Etta had collected several yellow leaves and pressed them between the pages of her Bible as keepsakes from her time in Lockton. A precious reminder of the afternoon she’d spent alone with Bern. Full of surprises he’d been, first with his invitation and then his open-hearted sharing, and she still ached at the story of his uncle and father. In his own way, he embodied what they each stood for. No wonder he’d agreed to serve Lockton in both professions, though she sensed it was taking a toll on him.
She sensed something else as well, yet she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Every now and then she caught him watching her, his mouth slightly open, as if he was about to speak. Then he’d clamp his jaw and turn away.
But with preparation for the Thanksgiving feast in just three weeks, she had little time to dwell on what might be troubling Bern. Thanks to Dottie Dalton, she had a fairly good idea what to expect—food and more food. As the little woman had said when Etta first arrived in Lockton, she’d heard others mention that the Thanksgiving feast was the biggest event of the year.
The school children planned to present poems and songs, and evenings found Etta helping Gracie memorize her parts.
However, one tradition had Etta in a fix, for each person present at the meal was to share their greatest blessings from the year. Gracie had been practicing for months, and Etta learned that her list was what she had been secretly writing in her room.
Etta knew exactly what she wanted to say, but feared she’d not be able to get it past her lips. ~Mail-Order Misfire
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November 12, 2023
Be Still and Know
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
There is a lot of clamoring right now. Have you heard it?
A lot of noise. A lot of posturing and pointing, criticism and chaos.
None of it is new. It’s all happened before, many times, in fact. And God’s antidote is the same:
Be still …
When the mountains of man’s scheming tumble into the sea,
God is there.
When the faulty foundations of our plans crack and crumble,
God is there.
And when we quiet ourselves before our Maker and cease our incessant shrieking,
God is there.
He is bigger than all the noise around us.
It could be that when we are still, we not only hear His voice more clearly, we also become a reflection of His peace.
Take heart, be still, and know that the Lord of Heaven’s Armies is God …
and He is there.
Be still
and know that
I am God.
I will
be exalted
among the nations,
I will
be exalted
in the earth.
Psalm 46:10
Be still and know.
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A tender Thanksgiving tale.An old pain throbbed to life behind his ribs, and he shoved it back in the shadows and opened the ledger book. Black and white was easier to deal with. Facts, figures. He flipped to the last page where he’d started an account of Etta’s wages, such as they were. She did things that money couldn’t touch, like taking to Gracie as if the girl were her own. Teaching her more than just chores in the kitchen and helping her with her sewing. They’d sit with him in the evenings, stitching and whispering while he read. What they didn’t know was that he watched them as much as he read. Maybe more.
With warmer weather, they’d all moved from the parlor to the front porch after supper. Etta and Gracie in the swing, him in a kitchen chair until dusk swallowed the daylight. He’d never felt so peaceful as he did at those times, and he knew it was all on account of Etta Collier. Her sharp wit and tender ways. Her quick humor. Sometimes it felt as if she’d always been there, and more often than not, when he looked in her eyes, he saw Gracie.
He slapped the ledger closed, stuck his hat on, and left his accounts unsettled. ~Mail-Order Misfire – a tender Thanksgiving tale.
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November 5, 2023
Location, Location, Location
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
The three most important things to consider when investing in real estate are location, location, location. At least that’s what I’ve been told.
This deliberate hyperbole points out the importance of where a property is. Realtors are credited with coining this catchy phrase about a hundred years ago, but I think its origin goes back to a first-century itinerant teacher from the Middle East.
Jesus told a story about two men each building a home. One built on sand, one built on rock. We don’t know if the sand was beachfront property and the rock a high bluff. A better view might be had on the bluff, but that wasn’t the point.
The actual location was what Jesus focused on as it related to weather conditions, rain in particular.
The house built on sand washed away in a storm.
The house built on rock withstood the onslaught and remained standing.
Metaphorical, yes. But everyone lives somewhere and the rains of adversity fall in all those somewheres.
At the end of the story, Jesus explained how people could “build on the rock” and withstand the inevitable storms:
“Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine
and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock.
25 The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house;
yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.
26 But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice
is like a foolish man who built his house on sand.
27 The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house,
and it fell with a great crash.”
Matthew 7:24-27
So what and where are the “words of mine” that we can put into practice for a solid foundation? They can be found in the New Testament book of Matthew, chapters 5, 6, and 7. It’s great reading. Especially if you’re interested in surviving the storms.
~
Location, location, location
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Georgia touched her heels to her horse’s side and trotted up beside Dave’s horse. They were heading straight for pine-draped hills that skirted a higher ridge. A ribbon of fading green ran along the edge. How she’d love to see those aspen once they turned.
Would the cabin be in the pines or lower on the grassland? Settlers and homesteaders built near a water source, but streams could have gone dry since then. The land often changed in a hundred and fifty years …
And then she saw it—before he pointed it out. Her hands tightened on her reins and her breath quickened. Maybe he wanted her to notice it, for he’d reined off to an angle so they approached the aspen grove from the east.
Only the shell remained with a roof caved in and ravaged by time, weather, and wildflowers. The cabin lay like a broken egg that once held life but now only memories. ~A Mistletoe Christmas
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October 29, 2023
Do Not Be Afraid
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Some people like to be frightened and enjoy watching horror movies or reading scary stories. Maybe it’s because they know the scenarios are not real and they feel safe and relieved after the faux fright.
Halloween is our most traditional fright night – a time when children dress up and pretend to be someone else for a while. Trick-or-treaters often fill our neighborhoods, cashing in on community candy.
There may be a few scary faces roaming our streets later this week, but in our day-to-day lives, we all deal with plenty of real-life intimidation.
A young Old Testament prophet named Jeremiah wasn’t too excited about his godly call to challenge the status quo, and called “foul,” claiming to be underage.
God told him that age had nothing to do with obedience, and He gave Jeremiah a promise we can all claim when accepting a task to which He has called us:
“Do not be afraid of their faces,
for I am with you to deliver you,” says the Lord.
Jeremiah 1:8
Thank God, He is with us regardless of our age or what we face. And He is faithful to bring us through.
Can you recall an intimidating situation through which the Lord helped you? I’d love to hear what He did in your life.
~
Do not be afraid.
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If Georgia didn’t go to church, Dave would know why. If she did go to church, she’d have to find something else to look at during the sermon. And she’d have to sneak out the back door, avoid her friends, and make a run for the car. No matter what she did, she was sure to draw attention—either his or everyone else’s.
This was why one did not spend extracurricular time with one’s pastor.
“I can worship and pray here just as well as in that building.”
She put her dishes in the sink and wiped off the counter.
What was she so afraid of?
She cinched her bathrobe tighter and tromped up the stairs to change.
On her way down, she ran into the answer to her question.
Her friendship with Dave was becoming more than a simple, shared comfort. It was swirling—yes, swirling—into a deep attraction, and that scared her on two conflicting levels:
What if she lost it?
And how could she be attracted to a man other than her deceased husband of so many years? ~A Mistletoe Christmas
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October 22, 2023
The Rest of the Story
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
As an author who lacks sketching and painting skills, I often sidestep artsy remarks by confessing that the only thing I draw is a conclusion.
Joking aside, I believe this holds true for many of us. We are sometimes quick to judge, infer, or decide before we have all the facts. We pronounce yea or nay when we have only a sliver of the picture.
A perfect illustration presented itself one recent morning as my husband and I vacationed in Kentucky.
Traveling a four-lane state highway edged in rolling green hills and autumn-bronzed trees, we came upon a city policeman walking along the shoulder toward the city we’d just left. A little farther on, we passed his parked cruiser.
Nearly a mile later we saw a woman walking on the shoulder headed the same direction as the officer. And not too far past her, sat a car parked on the edge of the road.
An unusual situation at best. Was the woman walking back toward the police car hoping to find help? Had the radio gone out in the officer’s patrol car, requiring him to hike back to headquarters?
Could he not call for backup?
Had he been tailing the woman – perhaps his estranged girlfriend or wife – and changed his mind?
Had they just had a fight? Was she walking back to apologize?
Did she run out of gas, out of patience, out of time?
Did they know each other?
Why weren’t they driving?
Were both vehicles sabotaged by a bank-heist suspect, an escaped murderer, or a ten-year-old kid on a joy ride?
We’ll likely never know what was going on that day or if those two people even knew the other was out there.
It’s quite similar to situations I find myself in all the time: at a restaurant where the service is slow (because other waitstaff called off and the young single-mother college-student is doing her best to keep up). Or when I get stuck behind a man in slow motion at the grocery-store checkout (because he can’t see his credit cards through tears since the recent death of his wife who did all the shopping).
We cross paths with people like this every day, and we know little or nothing about them. Sadly, we often act like we’re the only person in the setting who is busy, hurried, stressed, late, or angry because things aren’t going our way.
We don’t know their whole story. We don’t have all the facts, we don’t see the full picture.
Jesus knew the heart of man and yet He said,
Go the extra mile.
Love your neighbor.
Pray for those who curse you.
Forgive and you will be forgiven.
Treat others the way you want to be treated.
Get the log out of your eye before plucking the splinter in another’s.
Those are challenging commands. But the more we familiarize ourselves with His story, the more strength we’ll draw from His faithfulness to help us be … different.
We don’t always get to know the rest of the story. But we get to know the story of the One who saves us all if we let Him.
Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world,
but let God transform you into a new person
by changing the way you think.
Then you will learn to know God’s will for you,
which is good and pleasing and perfect.
Romans 12:2
~
The rest of the story
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At a knock on her back door, Georgia feared Dave had decided to come early. She fluffed her hair and smoothed her sweater, then opened the door.
“Hi. I hope you’re not busy.”
Kayla Ryan’s red eyes said everything, and Georgia opened her arms to the young woman, who sobbed against her shoulder.
“Come sit down. I just made a fresh pot of coffee.” Georgia grabbed a tissue box from the counter, then took two mugs from the cupboard. Honey, cream, and napkins followed.
Kayla sat down and then blew her nose. “Thank you.”
Why now, Lord? Georgia squirmed against her desire to have everything ready for Dave and her calling to comfort others with the Lord’s words. Yes, comfort. It was her purpose, and she used words to fulfill it, whether written or not. “Do you want to talk about it?”
With a stuttered breath, Kayla looked around the kitchen as if someone else might be eavesdropping. “I—I’m pregnant.” A Mistletoe Christmas
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October 15, 2023
Washed Up or Starting Fresh?
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Fifteen years ago I took my greenhorn self to a California writers conference, where I met with a well-known author for a “one-on-one.” It was the equivalent of a preschooler sitting down with a Ph.D. professor for a career pep-talk.
“What do you write?” the author asked.
I was a newbie in the fiction arena with no sense of direction about what genre I wanted to write. I’d been a journalist. I’d covered everything from my local community’s largest pumpkin, monthly school board meetings, and the annual 4-H livestock sale to fatal vehicle accidents, bank robberies, and the Columbine school shooting. I’d won awards, including one for a feature story in the Prorodeo Sports news, and I’d sold inspirational material to several Christian publications. I knew how to tell a story, but wanted to start telling my own.
However, when someone asks you what you write, you need a clear-cut answer:
Contemporary, historical, contemporary romance, historical romance, romantic suspense, legal thrillers, high-concept, Christian, general market, children’s board books, middle-grade stories, cozy mysteries, suspense, horror, sci-fi, fantasy…
You get the idea.
I had three partial manuscripts with me that day: a fictionalized children’s story about a hen that crowed (because we actually had a hen that tried to crow), a 30-day devotional book for women, and a contemporary romantic-suspense novel about a gal in a beach-side bungalow who was being stalked.
Clearly, what I didn’t have was focus.
The seasoned author looked at the hen story, handed it back, and eyed me with pity. “It’s a little late. You should have started this years ago,” or something to that effect.
I picked up my folder, said thank you, and took my thick-skinned reporter’s attitude to the next workshop on the conference agenda.
That was nineteen published books ago – all fiction but one. Four contemporary, fifteen historical. My focus has tightened somewhat, and I’m glad I didn’t let that brief interview squelch my dream or leave me feeling washed up.
Of course I’m not the only traveler in this world to hit roadblocks, and such stories encourage me. I think that’s why people read fiction. They like to see realistic characters face challenges and set-backs yet press on to win.
I have heard it said that it takes scores of encouraging words to counteract one naysayer’s comment.
This truism is found countless times is memoirs and biographies. Rising to victory in the face of difficulty is an encouraging theme.
One of my favorite biographies concerns a young Royal who had a temper, killed a guy who was mistreating someone else, and ended up a fugitive on the backside of a middle-eastern desert. He probably thought his life was over, his future sealed. It was too late for him – he’d be herding sheep the rest of his life.
God had other plans for Moses.
Another cast-off named David rocked his way into a king’s palace as a musician, where he was soon dodging spears, assassination plots, and deadly jealousy. He ended up on the throne himself, and not by his own hand.
Then there’s Peter, a world-class fisherman I wouldn’t want to face in an arm-wrestling match. He changed the world with his words because God saw beyond his limitations.
Some of us have old dreams hiding deep inside. Some of us think we’ve outlived our usefulness, our purpose.
Some of us think it’s too late because we lost our job, a relationship crumbled, or the doctor gave us bad news.
But here’s the news we need to consider: God is never caught by surprise. Our sense of purpose may change, but His plan for our life never does.
What we call “too late” could be a reboot. We get to choose: washed up or starting fresh.
Jesus said, “Behold, I make all things new” (Revelation 21:5).
Like Moses, David, and Peter, let’s give Him the chance to do that with our lives.
~
Are you washed up or starting fresh?
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Dave changed his jeans for a pair that didn’t have dirt in the creases around his boots, then added a vest and a ball cap.
Ruby sat on her haunches and gave him the once-over.
“What do you think?” He turned around to face the dog.
She grunted and laid down.
So much for compliments.
As he drove out of the ranch entrance, he passed a bunch of wild sunflowers making their last stand of the season. They’d grown there every summer and fall since he was a kid and would be gone in the next few days. He backed up, put the truck in park, and with his pocket knife cut a bouquet. The sunflower-stuffed thermos didn’t look half bad.
The clock on his dash said two thirty. Perfect. He didn’t want to arrive unannounced at mealtime, but since Georgia hadn’t answered his call yesterday, he figured he’d have more luck just showing up.
“Luck has nothing to do with it, Lord, I know that. Help me get my foot out of my mouth and maybe start over with Georgia. I’d hate to mess things up so badly that I lose her altogether. That is, unless this isn’t Your plan for our lives.”
He turned onto her street and his pulse double-ticked at the sight of her white Jeep in the driveway. She was probably working, but that couldn’t be helped. He had to get this weight off his chest. If she rejected him, at least he could go on with his life as he had been. Alone. ~A Mistletoe Christmas
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October 8, 2023
A New Contemporary Cowboy Romance – free for a few days!
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
It’s here – and free for a few days – my new contemporary cowboy Christmas romance.
It may seem early for a Christmas story but it’s never too early for love. Nor is it too late. See what readers are saying:
“What a poignant, precious, refreshing story of love and promise! The growing romance will linger in your memory as a widow and widower find hope and a future. Memorable characters within superb storytelling drive a story that brought tears to my eyes.” -Susan G Mathis, award-winning author of the Thousand Islands Gilded Age stories
One of the things I enjoy about being a novelist is creating background details that bring the story alive. In A Mistletoe Christmas I had great fun with my characters’ pets – Ruby and Jack. I’ve always wanted a basset hound, so I gave one to my cowboy-preacher hero and named her Ruby. Jack belongs to my heroine, but I don’t want to give too much away so I’ll leave it at that.
Pick up your Kindle copy today! And please leave a review. I’d love to know what you think!
~
No, she wasn’t sixteen, but a woman’s heart never outgrows romance. Especially at Christmas
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“Any more sights to see while we’re here?” Georgia gathered her reins and stepped up on Sodaback.
“I’ve got a view you might appreciate not too far from here,” Dave said. “We’ll ride along the edge of the aspen where a couple of low hills open to the valley. Maybe you’ll see your house.”
“Ha—I doubt that! How about the church? The steeple should stand out above all else except the water tower.”
Dave led them east, skirting the aspen until they came to a flat spot. Reining in, he turned to face the valley and Red Creek Springs.
Georgia had kept her camera around her neck, and after drawing up close to him and Buddy, she took several pictures. “You’re right. An amazing view.” She worked the long lens, then handed the camera to him. “Put the strap around your neck, then aim at the town. You might see something you recognize.”
He lifted his hat and looped the strap, knowing what he’d find. “There it is. Red Creek Springs Community Church. Red roof, steeple, and all.”
“Click the shutter.”
He took a couple of shots, adjusted the zoom lens, then turned and caught one of her. “Too close to get Soda in the picture, but it’s a good one of you.”
Surprised, she took the camera back. “Sneaky, I must say.”
He reined away and headed for the ranch. “I’ve got someone at the barn you might like to meet.” ~A Mistletoe Christmas
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.FREE book and Newsletter!
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