Michelle Lindo-Rice's Blog, page 25
June 8, 2017
Review: No One But You
No One But You by Brenda NovakMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Sadie Harris is a single mom to a young son. She is trying to make ends meet and decides to take a job with Dawson Reed, the acquitted town murderer, as his housekeeper. Though Sadie is scared, she bravely accepts the job. Instead of finding a monster, she finds a considerate man.
Brenda Novak had me deeply invested in this story. Both of our characters had serious drama and challenges in their lives. They weren't the typical characters that you read in romances. There was no rich billionaire but instead both characters had a true wealth and depth to them that drew me into their lives. Sadie and Dawson's resilience shines through that made their journey a heartwarming tale.
Two of my favorite lines, and there were a few good nuggets:
"Even the hope of love is worth the risk, she clarified."
"Love isn't the problem, Sadie," he said, his voice soothing. "Love is the answer. That's what makes life worth living."
Sigh. Yes, Dawson. I completely agree.
Thank you netgalley for this read.
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June 7, 2017
Review: The Dream Keeper's Daughter
The Dream Keeper's Daughter by Emily ColinMy rating: 3 of 5 stars
I am torn about this read. On one hand, I saw many elements of solid writing particularly in the beginning, but on another, I think my question was why? Why did this story need a "back in time" component? I really didn't get why the characters were taken and why they were returned. I enjoyed the history and the interactions that occurred but how did that line up with the rest of the story. I think I would have understood if the title had been explained in the story: The Dream Keeper's Daughter - Maybe it was explained but this felt like a long long read so I might have missed it. Who was the dream keeper? I THINK I know who the daughter is but...
Next, the 'romance' between Max and Isabel took a different twist, which is fine, if it would have made sense for Isabel to go that route. If the author had built that character. It was interesting but I didn't fall in love with the main characters. Instead, I found myself wondering about Ryan. He was interesting. 2.5 stars
Thank you Netgalley for this ARC
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June 4, 2017
Review: Wild Embrace
Wild Embrace by Cassie EdwardsMy rating: 2 of 5 stars
II love romance. I really do and I even lost instant love and attraction but it didn't work in this novel. I love the cover. I love the title. I love the author. But that was it.
Our not-so-smart heroine, Elizabeth Easton did a lot of things that had me shaking my head. Strong Heart was able to spot her so many times and was skilled but couldn't find his grandfather.
The love between these two after short encounters had me rolling my eyes. It was disappointing.
Thank you Netgalley for the ARC!
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Review: Seeing Red
Seeing Red by Sandra BrownMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
Sandra Brown is one of my all-time favorite authors. No one writes romantic suspense like she does. This cover is hot. In Seeing Red, we meet Kerra Bailey and Joh Trapper. Kerra lands the interview of a lifetime with Major Trapper before tragedy hits. Typical Sandra Brown. I was drawn in from the first page.
Then we meet our flawed hero, Trapper, who is nursing a wicked hangover. (This hero seems common in some of her books of late, I think.) Kerra has to decide if she can trust a hot-headed, hot-tempered John Trapper as she tries to figure out who is behind that tragedy. Together, they battle desire while trying to solve the puzzle that got John fired from his job as an ATF.
The romance is intense and the intrigue is high. Many plot twists and events that had me finishing this read in one sitting. Sandra Brown has done it again. I eagerly await her next release. More, please. More.
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Review: How I Lost You: A Novel
How I Lost You: A Novel by Jenny BlackhurstMy rating: 2 of 5 stars
I loved the title, the cover and the blurb. It was intriguing but the flashback scenes and too many characters stole from the essence of the story.
I liked the friendship with Susan and Cassie but there was an unnecessary scene between them that sullied the strength of the friendship.
One question I had was how could so many people find her that easy? What was the point in having the name change? It didn't contribute to the story in any way.
The author crafted a tricky tangled web that she miraculously detangled by the end. Glad for that, but my main question was, why? If you're going to introduce a twisted backstory, then make it meaningful. None of the characters changed.
There wasn't one good person in the story that I could think of. Nevertheless, I did enjoy the suspense but my questions overshadowed full enjoyment.
2.5 stars. Thank you Netgalley for this read.
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June 3, 2017
Review: The Drowned Girls
The Drowned Girls by Loreth Anne WhiteMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
This is my first book by Loreth Anne White. What a dark, twisty, good read! The first line had me glued. Then when you meet, Angie Pallorino, the gritty heroine, you quickly realize this is not your Disney heroine. She is raw and flawed and passionate. She is ambitious and driven. You feel her guilt and her pain as she struggles with demons of the past.
Then we meet the rugged James Maddocks, another complex character. He is trying to build a relationship with his daughter and ends up finding more. The villain also has depth and a story that makes us understand his pain even though we can't forgive his evil.
I enjoyed this suspenseful tale. It had everything AND the kitchen sink. At times, I felt there were too many characters. I felt a couple scenes or story strands could've been shaved off in editing but then I realized that this was the foundation for a series. I am eager to know more about Angie.
Kudos to Loreth Anne White. She is creepy good.
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May 29, 2017
Review: Seeking Sarah
Seeking Sarah by ReShonda Tate BillingsleyMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
I finished Seeking Sarah in hours. The cover drew me in but the storyline kept my fingers swiping through the pages. Brooke was a complicated and flawed heroine. I understood her actions even though I didn't agree with almost all of them. I found myself asking many times, would Brooke realize a person can't conquer deception with deception? She was bent on revenge but the thing with revenge is that it comes with consequences. Will Brooke realize that in time? You will discover the answer as you read.
Even when I got to the end, I continued to ask myself: How could a mother abandon her child? SMH. Can Sarah ever fully explain that? Seeking Sarah shows how important a parent's love is and how a parent can shape a child's life and future actions. It is not a light responsibility.
My favorite lines:
"A woman's gut doesn't lie."
"Well, I guess if there's a roadblock to your path to happiness, you have to stop and move it out of the way."
Thank you Netgalley for this read. 4.5 stars
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Review: The Runaway Bride
The Runaway Bride by Patricia JohnsMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
What a solid story. Liam's and Bernie's romance warmed my heart. The author allowed their love to build--and it felt realistic--even though it was a short amount of time. Things started off rocky for Bernie but she came into her own. So many themes resonate in this read: family, forgiveness are two. It looks at the question of family and shows how love can stretch that parameter. The backstories and other characters added conflict and depth to the tale. I understood the couple's struggle and rooted for them on their path to happy-ever-after.
There were some great lines in this read:
"He was man enough to love a woman with his whole heart, but he was also man enough to let her go, and to deal with the pain on his own."
"...life doesn't give you many chances to follow your heart, and the rest of your life is an awfully long time to go without the man you love."
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May 27, 2017
Who Killed My Husband?
I am in love with the title and the cover. Add the fact that it is Michelle Stimpson and I have already clicked the pre-order button. Check out my interview with this prolific writer.
Description Buy LinksInterview with the AuthorAbout the AuthorExcerpt
This short work by national bestselling, multi-published author Michelle Stimpson is packed with emotion, suspense, and a her signature way of weaving hope into a story – always a hit with readers who enjoy faith-based reads.
Buy Links:Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Who-Killed-Husband-Michelle-Stimpson-ebook/dp/B071743ZLP
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/who-killed-my-husband-michelle-stimpson/1126439599?ean=9781537890104
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/who-killed-my-husband/id1239454458?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4
Google: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Michelle_Stimpson_Who_Killed_My_Husband?id=Z50kDwAAQBAJ
Interview with the AuthorQ: This is a different kind of book for you. What made you venture a little with this title?A: After writing 40+ books, an author can get kinds stagnant. I have recently started reading clean mysteries, and I found that I actually enjoy them. They keep me up late at night because I truly want to find out whodunit and why. I’m hoping my readers will enjoy a different pace, too. I think they’ll be glad to know it’s possible to change things up and still keep the message of the book strong.
Q: What is the message of the book?A: The main character, Ashley, is struggling to make sense of things as they relate to her. She has suffered much loss in her life already. But she’s going to have to understand that God doesn’t make His plans around Her. She may be the apple of His eye, but she is not the center of the universe. His promise to be there always will have to sufficient for some of us until we reach the other side.
Q: Wow! That title really caught me. How did you come up with the idea for this book?A: You know what, I wish I could remember. Thankfully, I have not experience much death around me, but I know that the longer I live, the more loved ones will pass away. Death is a part of life. I don’t kill off a lot of characters in my books, but there was just something about this couple that struck my imagination and I knew they needed a book. Quickly!
Q: How quick?A: About 10 days from outline to finished first draft.
Q: Seriously?A: Yes, but keep in mind: This is a shorter work of fiction.
Q: Why did you choose to write a shorter piece?A: I actually got my start with fiction as a short-story writer. I love shorter reads because I can finish them quickly. My schedule is often irregular, so it’s hard for me to get into longer books during hectic weeks. When I sit down for a few hours with a short read, I already know I’m going to have the satisfaction of finishing it. I usually save longer reads for holidays/vacations.
Q: What else is going on with you outside of the writing world?A: Glad you asked! I am now the grandmother of a wonderful baby girl. Bless God! I am spending a ridiculous amount of time just staring at her and nibbling on her juicy cheeks.
Q: What’s your next release?A: I’ve got a non-fiction book coming out entitled Change Your Mind, Transform Your Life: 21 Truths to Renew Your Mind in Christ. I am always sooo excited about edifying believers. Non-fiction is not my first genre, but it is definitely one of the most fulfilling to me.
Q: Do you have advice for aspiring authors?A: I have more than advice—I have help! They can visit www.PublishMyBookAlready.comto take classes and learn more about publishing, marketing, etc.
Q: How Can Readers Connect with You?A: The best way to keep in touch is through my email list. I send out notice of new books and keep people posted on all kinds of things from events to what’s happening with their favorite characters to upcoming releases. The link is here: http://bit.ly/MichelleStimpsonSignUp
Additionally, they can like or follow me at Facebook: www.Facebook.com/MichelleStimpsonWritesOr Follow me on Twitter @StimpsonTweets. I blog at www.MichelleStimpson.com.
Thanks so much for the interview!
About the Author
Michelle Stimpson’s works include the highly acclaimed Boaz Brown, Divas of Damascus Road (National Bestseller), and Falling Into Grace, which has been optioned for a movie. She has published several short stories for high school students through her educational publishing company at WeGottaRead.com.
Michelle serves in women’s ministry at Oak Cliff Bible Fellowship in Dallas, TX. She regularly speaks at special events and writing workshops sponsored by churches, schools, book clubs, and educational organizations.
The Stimpsons are proud parents of two young adults, grandparents of one super-sweet granddaughter, and the owners of one Cocker Spaniel, Mimi, who loves to watch televangelists.
Excerpt
Chapter 1 “Thank you for doing this, Allan.” I kept my eyes steady on the unfamiliar, winding road sprawling before me. Already, I had braked three times for sharp turns and a pothole. Allan, ears covered by headphones, bobbed as though he didn’t hear my compliment. His baby smooth skin, dimples, and semi-mohawk haircut made him look much younger than thirty-two. So young, in fact, that a few times, twenty-something chicks at his DJing events had mistaken me as his older sister or his manager, even though I was only thirty. Allan thought that was funny. “It’s good for business,” he’d say, flashing his boyish grin.I was tired of him acting like a boy. A guy. A dude. A bro. I needed him to grow up and be a man. Start thinking about things that mattered, namely his eternity. Since Allan had agreed to attend this non-church-affiliated men’s retreat, I thought my prayers were finally being answered. I had gone all out to take off work early so I could take him to Peaceful Days. Even dusted on some makeup and flat-ironed my wavy mane so he’d have this awesome picture of me in the back of his mind all weekend.I tapped him on the shoulder and mouthed again, “Thank you for doing this.”I knew better than to expect a “Sure thing, Ashley,” or “It’s my pleasure to go,” from him. He was either ignoring me or caught up in his music. No matter, I was used to being blocked out of his life by music, working at KRBF FM radio Dallas. His side gigs. His friends. His lifestyle.Still, my eyes watered for a moment. The rejection stung worse than a bee. At least when a bee stung, it was defending its own territory. Allan and I were supposed to be one in God’s sight. Why he chose to turn on me—his wife of six years—and treat me like the enemy was unreasonable. We were on the same team. At least we were until Corey died.Blinking tears away, my vision cleared just in time to spot a pretty good-sized animal dart into the road. I slammed on the brakes. My stomach squirmed. I winced, hoping the thing had escaped being crushed. A second later, my body relaxed. Whatever it was hadn’t become a bump under my wheels.“Geez Louise!” Allan yelled. “Can you not see?”“It came out of nowhere!” I pointed toward the open field on the passenger’s side. “I saw it a mile away!” he claimed, motioning toward his window. “You’re not paying attention.”“Neither are you!” Allan pulled the headphones down so they dangled around his neck. “I’m paying plenty of attention to the road. Can’t say the same about you since you nearly got us killed.”Cautiously, I continued our path to the campgrounds.“Do you need me to drive?” he asked with a hint of sympathy in his voice. This was my husband’s way of apologizing. He wouldn’t just come out and say, “Babe, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” He’d offer to do something.“No,” I said. That was my way of not accepting his roundabout apology.I had grounds for a full-blown argument. How dare he accuse me of trying to kill us? And why am I driving anyway—I’m the woman! Real men know how to step up and take the wheel in more ways than one. Top that off with the fact that my heart was still racing from the animal-in-the-road scare, and I was primed.But I didn’t want to go there. Not now. Especially not today. Allan had finally agreed to attend a Christian men’s conference for the weekend, and I’d been praying that God would use this weekend to touch my husband’s heart. Having a big blowout of an argument just before dropping him off wouldn’t exactly be productive.Thanks to a few books I’d been reading and the personal advice of the Holy Spirit, I had come to the point of understanding that, apparently, Allan was in the “may be won without a word” category. I just needed to keep my mouth zipped and let God do His thing. Problem number one: Allan had a knack for provoking me. Problem number two: I wasn’t always obedient. Problem number three: God was taking His sweet time.My husband pressed a dial on his headphones. “Hello?”The caller spoke loud enough for me to hear that it was a man. A hollering man.“Wait up, man! I gotchu! My first payment isn’t even due until next month, bro,” Allan said. I put two and two together and realized he was talking to Jerry Albright, the man who had helped finance my husband’s acquisition of the radio station where he worked.“I’mma have yo money like I said, at the time we agreed to,” Allan said forcefully, slipping into a strong southern accent. “Why you tryna collect early?”The rest of the conversation was much more calm. Allan wasn’t playing with Jerry. But neither was Jerry playing with Allan, apparently. Great. Now we have loan sharks after us. This whole DJ Pistol Whip persona was getting out of control. “Aight. I’ll talk to you next week. I’m gonna be at a…some kind of thing my old lady set me up to…Naw…you know I ain’t goin’ out like that! I got a reputation to protect!” Allan laughed.Thank God they’re laughing and not threatening each other.Whatever the man had suggested was probably too civil for DJ Pistol Whip to admit to.“I’ll catch you later.” He took the headphones off, mumbling to himself that Jerry was crazy. His thumbs whittled away at a message to somebody. “In one-half mile, turn left on Prayer Lane,” the navigation system instructed. Allan chuckled. “Prayer Lane.” He pushed his headphones back in place.I could hardly wait for that half a mile to come and go so I could drop him off at that camp and burn rubber on my way out. I figured, if nothing else, at least I’d get a weekend away from himAs we neared the grounds, we were welcomed by the United States flag, the Texas flag, and the Christian flag. Flowers bloomed in pristine arrangements lining the entryway’s white picket fence. Green grass rolled for acres between small buildings with country flair. A large pond sparkled in the midst of the camp. The scenery alone should have been enough to let Allan know that God is real and loves to bring beauty into this world.Peaceful Days Camp was painted in bright red letters on a wooden sign. Underneath the facility name was the phrase Come all who labor.“That’s what I’m talking about,” Allan yelled. His music’s volume must have been so loud he didn’t realize how his voice carried. “Laboring is what I need to be doing this Friday night instead of hanging out with some chumps at a camp.”“Really?” I yelled loud enough for him to hear me. “You think judging a twerking contest is labor?”“It’s a hard job, but somebody’s gotta do it,” he shouted back. “DJing and vibin’ with the hip hop culture is the way I make my money. You knew who you were marrying when you married DJ Pistol Whip, right?”“I didn’t marry DJ Pistol Whip. I married Allan Crandall.”“One and the same, baby. One and the same.” He bobbed his head even harder and started throwing punches in the air as though fighting an imaginary foe.All I could do was poke out my lips. He had a point. Allan had turned into this persona he’d created to earn a living. He was very good at what he did. A part of me was glad that he loved his work. But when that work involved MCing wet T-shirt contests, I had a problem. A serious problem.I followed the signs to the H. P. Lewis men’s dormitory, which had been mentioned in the series of emails leading up to the retreat. Of course, all of the email messages came to me, since Allan wasn’t about to keep track of anything regarding this event.I parked and, almost immediately, Allan hopped out. I pushed the button to open the back window so he could retrieve his bags. As he walked around to the back of our vehicle, I got the paperwork from my purse. Suddenly, I felt like a mother must feel when she’s dropping her child off at kindergarten. The joy. The pain. The pride. A sadness swept over me as I wondered: Will I ever experience that for myself?Thoughts of little Corey filled my mind, nearly overtaking me with their intensity. He would have been three years old the following week. “Horrible Threes” I’d heard people called them. People wouldn’t say such negative things about babies and children—about them waking up in the middle of the night, the crying, the teething, the getting into everything—if they realized what a blessing it was to have a living, breathing, normal, healthy child.The tears had come too quickly for me to blink them away. I swiped them from my eyes.Allan closed the back window.I got out of the car to see him off. I had planned to give him a big kiss and a hug in Jesus’s name, but I wasn’t feeling my husband or Jesus at the moment.Allan hoisted his backpack on his shoulder as he walked toward me. All around us were couples saying goodbye. Hugging, slight pecks, praying with one another.I looked up at him. Forced a smile. “Have a good weekend.”The heavy weight of concern crossed his face. “Why are you crying, Ashley? I’m at the retreat, okay? This is what you wanted, right?”As mean as Allan could be sometimes, he always fell apart at the slightest hint of wetness on my face.Peering into his eyes, I wondered why on earth God had allowed these crazy twists and turns in my life. My son’s death. My failing marriage. Even my mother’s dementia, which had been a long time coming, seemed an odd ending to such a good life. If only my husband and I were on the same page, spiritually, I could lean on him. We could pray for each other. He could actually love me like Christ loved the church, and I could be submissive because I respected him, and life would be…well…easier and holier and basically better.But I knew not to share my thoughts to Allan. No sense in talking to a brick wall. Allan hugged me. “Get some rest this weekend. I know.…” He sighed. “I know what today is.”“Yeah.” Allan still couldn’t say Corey’s name.A tinny beat came from the headphones, interrupting our silent moment.“Are you going to wear those all weekend?” I asked.He shrugged. “I guess, when we’re not doing anything.”I thrust the itinerary into his hand. “You’ve got a full weekend. There’s no way you’ll have time for music.”“There’s always time for music, baby.” He gave a charming smile.I sighed. Twisted my lips to the side. This was a joke to him. If all he planned to do was go to the classes between vulgar songs, my efforts to get him here had been nothing but a waste of time, effort, money, hope, and prayers. I blew a cool breeze from my mouth. “You’re right. It’s totally up to you, Allan. Enjoy yourself.” I turned and opened the driver’s side door, not wanting him to see my fresh batch of tears. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to manipulate him by crying. Guilt-induced expressions of love were always disingenuous and short-lived. Allan grasped my arm. “Ashley. Wait.” He squared up my shoulders before I had a chance to wipe my cheeks dry.“I’m here because I want to be here.” He swallowed. “I’m tired of fighting with you. I can’t change what happened. I can’t fix everything like I want to. And I don’t know God like you want me to. But I’m here this weekend because I docare.”“If you care, then listen? Take off your headphones and listen to what’s in here.” I placed my hand on his heart.Slowly, my husband removed the black headset. He put it around my neck. Smiled. “You could use some music this weekend, I bet.”I giggled slightly. “You’re probably right.”He rested his forehead on mine. “I love you, pretty brown-eyed girl.”His nickname for me, based on the Mint Condition 90s song, still made me melt. I twisted my lips to one side, then gave way to a smile of my own. “Love you, too. See you Sunday.” The truth was: I loved Allan and I knew he loved me. But if God didn’t fix him that weekend, I didn’t know what I was going to do. We’d already tried counseling. Well, I tried counseling. Allan went twice and said it was a waste of time. I bought his-and-hers versions of do-it-yourself couples therapy-type books. Allan never got past the first few chapters. I was getting to the end of my strategies for improvement.Friday night found me in bed crying as I flipped through pictures of our wedding. We were so happy back then. We had the rest of our lives in front of us. Or so I thought. Taking off the afternoon and enduring the tension with Allan almost all the way to the camp had taken a lot out of me. I didn’t want to argue with my husband. I didn’t want to be so judgmental. I just didn’t know any other way to make him see how much he needed Jesus.Rather than cry my eyes swollen, I decided to get up and do some work. I logged into my employer’s system and began to edit and comment on documents the team had uploaded. If nothing else, I could at least find some success at work.
Though Celeste had couched her wisdom in humor, the message rode home with me: Treat Allan the way Jesus treats you. When I thought of His patience, His love, and how He had drawn me to Him in loving kindness, there was no way I could hold a grudge against my husband for not being drawn close to Him at the exact same time as me.Instead of overdosing on movies, I decided to end the night earlier than planned and in prayer. Meditating on the name of Jesus pulled me down to my knees, brought me to conviction and repentance, and filled my heart with a renewed sense of peace about me and Allan. Maybe God is going to use this weekend in a mighty way.I plugged my phone into the charger and set my alarm for seven-thirty, so I could get to early service and then go pick up Allan by eleven, the official end-time of the retreat. Then, I slipped between my sheets and fell asleep. Until my doorbell rang at six fifty-seven a.m. I wasn’t exactly sleep, but not in the mood to get out of bed yet.I scrambled to my feet and threw on my robe. The only people who disturbed me at that time of morning were my new neighbors, whose puppy kept getting into my backyard somehow. I’d told them the last time that if Scruffy escaped, they had my permission to enter my gate to get him. But that hadn’t happened in a while since the dog had grown too big to slip through the gate’s iron bars. I thought to myself as I tied the terrycloth belt around my waist: Maybe I should get a dog to keep Scruffy from coming onto my territory. To be safe, I asked, “Who is it?”“Officer Logan.” A shiver ran through my body. Was this the beginning of an attempted home invasion, where the criminals pretended to be an officer in order to gain access to my home? I’d seen plenty of those chain emails on social media—maybe this was the real thing. My only safe haven was my bedroom, which I’d had built with no outside access. I glanced out the slender window to my right. For a moment, I was relieved to see the police cruiser at the curb with the familiar city logo and a set of real lights atop the hood of the white Crown Victoria.But then another reality hit me: If the police are at my home, something bad is happening.I quickly opened the door, bracing myself for bad news and reminding myself that whatever it was, I could take it. I’d already lost a child, which I’d heard was the worst thing a person could ever endure. Allan and I had made it through that. We’d make it through this, too.“Mrs. Crandall?” The tall, box-faced man asked. His much shorter companion tipped his hat.“Yes. I’m Ashley Crandall.”“Ma’am, I’m Officer Logan. This is Detective Jackson. Dallas County Sheriff’s Office. I’m sorry to tell you this, but there was an incident at the retreat. Your husband is dead.”
Description Buy LinksInterview with the AuthorAbout the AuthorExcerpt
This short work by national bestselling, multi-published author Michelle Stimpson is packed with emotion, suspense, and a her signature way of weaving hope into a story – always a hit with readers who enjoy faith-based reads.
Buy Links:Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Who-Killed-Husband-Michelle-Stimpson-ebook/dp/B071743ZLP
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/who-killed-my-husband-michelle-stimpson/1126439599?ean=9781537890104
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/who-killed-my-husband/id1239454458?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4
Google: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Michelle_Stimpson_Who_Killed_My_Husband?id=Z50kDwAAQBAJ
Interview with the AuthorQ: This is a different kind of book for you. What made you venture a little with this title?A: After writing 40+ books, an author can get kinds stagnant. I have recently started reading clean mysteries, and I found that I actually enjoy them. They keep me up late at night because I truly want to find out whodunit and why. I’m hoping my readers will enjoy a different pace, too. I think they’ll be glad to know it’s possible to change things up and still keep the message of the book strong.
Q: What is the message of the book?A: The main character, Ashley, is struggling to make sense of things as they relate to her. She has suffered much loss in her life already. But she’s going to have to understand that God doesn’t make His plans around Her. She may be the apple of His eye, but she is not the center of the universe. His promise to be there always will have to sufficient for some of us until we reach the other side.
Q: Wow! That title really caught me. How did you come up with the idea for this book?A: You know what, I wish I could remember. Thankfully, I have not experience much death around me, but I know that the longer I live, the more loved ones will pass away. Death is a part of life. I don’t kill off a lot of characters in my books, but there was just something about this couple that struck my imagination and I knew they needed a book. Quickly!
Q: How quick?A: About 10 days from outline to finished first draft.
Q: Seriously?A: Yes, but keep in mind: This is a shorter work of fiction.
Q: Why did you choose to write a shorter piece?A: I actually got my start with fiction as a short-story writer. I love shorter reads because I can finish them quickly. My schedule is often irregular, so it’s hard for me to get into longer books during hectic weeks. When I sit down for a few hours with a short read, I already know I’m going to have the satisfaction of finishing it. I usually save longer reads for holidays/vacations.
Q: What else is going on with you outside of the writing world?A: Glad you asked! I am now the grandmother of a wonderful baby girl. Bless God! I am spending a ridiculous amount of time just staring at her and nibbling on her juicy cheeks.
Q: What’s your next release?A: I’ve got a non-fiction book coming out entitled Change Your Mind, Transform Your Life: 21 Truths to Renew Your Mind in Christ. I am always sooo excited about edifying believers. Non-fiction is not my first genre, but it is definitely one of the most fulfilling to me.
Q: Do you have advice for aspiring authors?A: I have more than advice—I have help! They can visit www.PublishMyBookAlready.comto take classes and learn more about publishing, marketing, etc.
Q: How Can Readers Connect with You?A: The best way to keep in touch is through my email list. I send out notice of new books and keep people posted on all kinds of things from events to what’s happening with their favorite characters to upcoming releases. The link is here: http://bit.ly/MichelleStimpsonSignUp
Additionally, they can like or follow me at Facebook: www.Facebook.com/MichelleStimpsonWritesOr Follow me on Twitter @StimpsonTweets. I blog at www.MichelleStimpson.com.
Thanks so much for the interview!
About the Author
Michelle Stimpson’s works include the highly acclaimed Boaz Brown, Divas of Damascus Road (National Bestseller), and Falling Into Grace, which has been optioned for a movie. She has published several short stories for high school students through her educational publishing company at WeGottaRead.com.
Michelle serves in women’s ministry at Oak Cliff Bible Fellowship in Dallas, TX. She regularly speaks at special events and writing workshops sponsored by churches, schools, book clubs, and educational organizations.
The Stimpsons are proud parents of two young adults, grandparents of one super-sweet granddaughter, and the owners of one Cocker Spaniel, Mimi, who loves to watch televangelists.
Excerpt
Chapter 1 “Thank you for doing this, Allan.” I kept my eyes steady on the unfamiliar, winding road sprawling before me. Already, I had braked three times for sharp turns and a pothole. Allan, ears covered by headphones, bobbed as though he didn’t hear my compliment. His baby smooth skin, dimples, and semi-mohawk haircut made him look much younger than thirty-two. So young, in fact, that a few times, twenty-something chicks at his DJing events had mistaken me as his older sister or his manager, even though I was only thirty. Allan thought that was funny. “It’s good for business,” he’d say, flashing his boyish grin.I was tired of him acting like a boy. A guy. A dude. A bro. I needed him to grow up and be a man. Start thinking about things that mattered, namely his eternity. Since Allan had agreed to attend this non-church-affiliated men’s retreat, I thought my prayers were finally being answered. I had gone all out to take off work early so I could take him to Peaceful Days. Even dusted on some makeup and flat-ironed my wavy mane so he’d have this awesome picture of me in the back of his mind all weekend.I tapped him on the shoulder and mouthed again, “Thank you for doing this.”I knew better than to expect a “Sure thing, Ashley,” or “It’s my pleasure to go,” from him. He was either ignoring me or caught up in his music. No matter, I was used to being blocked out of his life by music, working at KRBF FM radio Dallas. His side gigs. His friends. His lifestyle.Still, my eyes watered for a moment. The rejection stung worse than a bee. At least when a bee stung, it was defending its own territory. Allan and I were supposed to be one in God’s sight. Why he chose to turn on me—his wife of six years—and treat me like the enemy was unreasonable. We were on the same team. At least we were until Corey died.Blinking tears away, my vision cleared just in time to spot a pretty good-sized animal dart into the road. I slammed on the brakes. My stomach squirmed. I winced, hoping the thing had escaped being crushed. A second later, my body relaxed. Whatever it was hadn’t become a bump under my wheels.“Geez Louise!” Allan yelled. “Can you not see?”“It came out of nowhere!” I pointed toward the open field on the passenger’s side. “I saw it a mile away!” he claimed, motioning toward his window. “You’re not paying attention.”“Neither are you!” Allan pulled the headphones down so they dangled around his neck. “I’m paying plenty of attention to the road. Can’t say the same about you since you nearly got us killed.”Cautiously, I continued our path to the campgrounds.“Do you need me to drive?” he asked with a hint of sympathy in his voice. This was my husband’s way of apologizing. He wouldn’t just come out and say, “Babe, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” He’d offer to do something.“No,” I said. That was my way of not accepting his roundabout apology.I had grounds for a full-blown argument. How dare he accuse me of trying to kill us? And why am I driving anyway—I’m the woman! Real men know how to step up and take the wheel in more ways than one. Top that off with the fact that my heart was still racing from the animal-in-the-road scare, and I was primed.But I didn’t want to go there. Not now. Especially not today. Allan had finally agreed to attend a Christian men’s conference for the weekend, and I’d been praying that God would use this weekend to touch my husband’s heart. Having a big blowout of an argument just before dropping him off wouldn’t exactly be productive.Thanks to a few books I’d been reading and the personal advice of the Holy Spirit, I had come to the point of understanding that, apparently, Allan was in the “may be won without a word” category. I just needed to keep my mouth zipped and let God do His thing. Problem number one: Allan had a knack for provoking me. Problem number two: I wasn’t always obedient. Problem number three: God was taking His sweet time.My husband pressed a dial on his headphones. “Hello?”The caller spoke loud enough for me to hear that it was a man. A hollering man.“Wait up, man! I gotchu! My first payment isn’t even due until next month, bro,” Allan said. I put two and two together and realized he was talking to Jerry Albright, the man who had helped finance my husband’s acquisition of the radio station where he worked.“I’mma have yo money like I said, at the time we agreed to,” Allan said forcefully, slipping into a strong southern accent. “Why you tryna collect early?”The rest of the conversation was much more calm. Allan wasn’t playing with Jerry. But neither was Jerry playing with Allan, apparently. Great. Now we have loan sharks after us. This whole DJ Pistol Whip persona was getting out of control. “Aight. I’ll talk to you next week. I’m gonna be at a…some kind of thing my old lady set me up to…Naw…you know I ain’t goin’ out like that! I got a reputation to protect!” Allan laughed.Thank God they’re laughing and not threatening each other.Whatever the man had suggested was probably too civil for DJ Pistol Whip to admit to.“I’ll catch you later.” He took the headphones off, mumbling to himself that Jerry was crazy. His thumbs whittled away at a message to somebody. “In one-half mile, turn left on Prayer Lane,” the navigation system instructed. Allan chuckled. “Prayer Lane.” He pushed his headphones back in place.I could hardly wait for that half a mile to come and go so I could drop him off at that camp and burn rubber on my way out. I figured, if nothing else, at least I’d get a weekend away from himAs we neared the grounds, we were welcomed by the United States flag, the Texas flag, and the Christian flag. Flowers bloomed in pristine arrangements lining the entryway’s white picket fence. Green grass rolled for acres between small buildings with country flair. A large pond sparkled in the midst of the camp. The scenery alone should have been enough to let Allan know that God is real and loves to bring beauty into this world.Peaceful Days Camp was painted in bright red letters on a wooden sign. Underneath the facility name was the phrase Come all who labor.“That’s what I’m talking about,” Allan yelled. His music’s volume must have been so loud he didn’t realize how his voice carried. “Laboring is what I need to be doing this Friday night instead of hanging out with some chumps at a camp.”“Really?” I yelled loud enough for him to hear me. “You think judging a twerking contest is labor?”“It’s a hard job, but somebody’s gotta do it,” he shouted back. “DJing and vibin’ with the hip hop culture is the way I make my money. You knew who you were marrying when you married DJ Pistol Whip, right?”“I didn’t marry DJ Pistol Whip. I married Allan Crandall.”“One and the same, baby. One and the same.” He bobbed his head even harder and started throwing punches in the air as though fighting an imaginary foe.All I could do was poke out my lips. He had a point. Allan had turned into this persona he’d created to earn a living. He was very good at what he did. A part of me was glad that he loved his work. But when that work involved MCing wet T-shirt contests, I had a problem. A serious problem.I followed the signs to the H. P. Lewis men’s dormitory, which had been mentioned in the series of emails leading up to the retreat. Of course, all of the email messages came to me, since Allan wasn’t about to keep track of anything regarding this event.I parked and, almost immediately, Allan hopped out. I pushed the button to open the back window so he could retrieve his bags. As he walked around to the back of our vehicle, I got the paperwork from my purse. Suddenly, I felt like a mother must feel when she’s dropping her child off at kindergarten. The joy. The pain. The pride. A sadness swept over me as I wondered: Will I ever experience that for myself?Thoughts of little Corey filled my mind, nearly overtaking me with their intensity. He would have been three years old the following week. “Horrible Threes” I’d heard people called them. People wouldn’t say such negative things about babies and children—about them waking up in the middle of the night, the crying, the teething, the getting into everything—if they realized what a blessing it was to have a living, breathing, normal, healthy child.The tears had come too quickly for me to blink them away. I swiped them from my eyes.Allan closed the back window.I got out of the car to see him off. I had planned to give him a big kiss and a hug in Jesus’s name, but I wasn’t feeling my husband or Jesus at the moment.Allan hoisted his backpack on his shoulder as he walked toward me. All around us were couples saying goodbye. Hugging, slight pecks, praying with one another.I looked up at him. Forced a smile. “Have a good weekend.”The heavy weight of concern crossed his face. “Why are you crying, Ashley? I’m at the retreat, okay? This is what you wanted, right?”As mean as Allan could be sometimes, he always fell apart at the slightest hint of wetness on my face.Peering into his eyes, I wondered why on earth God had allowed these crazy twists and turns in my life. My son’s death. My failing marriage. Even my mother’s dementia, which had been a long time coming, seemed an odd ending to such a good life. If only my husband and I were on the same page, spiritually, I could lean on him. We could pray for each other. He could actually love me like Christ loved the church, and I could be submissive because I respected him, and life would be…well…easier and holier and basically better.But I knew not to share my thoughts to Allan. No sense in talking to a brick wall. Allan hugged me. “Get some rest this weekend. I know.…” He sighed. “I know what today is.”“Yeah.” Allan still couldn’t say Corey’s name.A tinny beat came from the headphones, interrupting our silent moment.“Are you going to wear those all weekend?” I asked.He shrugged. “I guess, when we’re not doing anything.”I thrust the itinerary into his hand. “You’ve got a full weekend. There’s no way you’ll have time for music.”“There’s always time for music, baby.” He gave a charming smile.I sighed. Twisted my lips to the side. This was a joke to him. If all he planned to do was go to the classes between vulgar songs, my efforts to get him here had been nothing but a waste of time, effort, money, hope, and prayers. I blew a cool breeze from my mouth. “You’re right. It’s totally up to you, Allan. Enjoy yourself.” I turned and opened the driver’s side door, not wanting him to see my fresh batch of tears. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to manipulate him by crying. Guilt-induced expressions of love were always disingenuous and short-lived. Allan grasped my arm. “Ashley. Wait.” He squared up my shoulders before I had a chance to wipe my cheeks dry.“I’m here because I want to be here.” He swallowed. “I’m tired of fighting with you. I can’t change what happened. I can’t fix everything like I want to. And I don’t know God like you want me to. But I’m here this weekend because I docare.”“If you care, then listen? Take off your headphones and listen to what’s in here.” I placed my hand on his heart.Slowly, my husband removed the black headset. He put it around my neck. Smiled. “You could use some music this weekend, I bet.”I giggled slightly. “You’re probably right.”He rested his forehead on mine. “I love you, pretty brown-eyed girl.”His nickname for me, based on the Mint Condition 90s song, still made me melt. I twisted my lips to one side, then gave way to a smile of my own. “Love you, too. See you Sunday.” The truth was: I loved Allan and I knew he loved me. But if God didn’t fix him that weekend, I didn’t know what I was going to do. We’d already tried counseling. Well, I tried counseling. Allan went twice and said it was a waste of time. I bought his-and-hers versions of do-it-yourself couples therapy-type books. Allan never got past the first few chapters. I was getting to the end of my strategies for improvement.Friday night found me in bed crying as I flipped through pictures of our wedding. We were so happy back then. We had the rest of our lives in front of us. Or so I thought. Taking off the afternoon and enduring the tension with Allan almost all the way to the camp had taken a lot out of me. I didn’t want to argue with my husband. I didn’t want to be so judgmental. I just didn’t know any other way to make him see how much he needed Jesus.Rather than cry my eyes swollen, I decided to get up and do some work. I logged into my employer’s system and began to edit and comment on documents the team had uploaded. If nothing else, I could at least find some success at work.
Though Celeste had couched her wisdom in humor, the message rode home with me: Treat Allan the way Jesus treats you. When I thought of His patience, His love, and how He had drawn me to Him in loving kindness, there was no way I could hold a grudge against my husband for not being drawn close to Him at the exact same time as me.Instead of overdosing on movies, I decided to end the night earlier than planned and in prayer. Meditating on the name of Jesus pulled me down to my knees, brought me to conviction and repentance, and filled my heart with a renewed sense of peace about me and Allan. Maybe God is going to use this weekend in a mighty way.I plugged my phone into the charger and set my alarm for seven-thirty, so I could get to early service and then go pick up Allan by eleven, the official end-time of the retreat. Then, I slipped between my sheets and fell asleep. Until my doorbell rang at six fifty-seven a.m. I wasn’t exactly sleep, but not in the mood to get out of bed yet.I scrambled to my feet and threw on my robe. The only people who disturbed me at that time of morning were my new neighbors, whose puppy kept getting into my backyard somehow. I’d told them the last time that if Scruffy escaped, they had my permission to enter my gate to get him. But that hadn’t happened in a while since the dog had grown too big to slip through the gate’s iron bars. I thought to myself as I tied the terrycloth belt around my waist: Maybe I should get a dog to keep Scruffy from coming onto my territory. To be safe, I asked, “Who is it?”“Officer Logan.” A shiver ran through my body. Was this the beginning of an attempted home invasion, where the criminals pretended to be an officer in order to gain access to my home? I’d seen plenty of those chain emails on social media—maybe this was the real thing. My only safe haven was my bedroom, which I’d had built with no outside access. I glanced out the slender window to my right. For a moment, I was relieved to see the police cruiser at the curb with the familiar city logo and a set of real lights atop the hood of the white Crown Victoria.But then another reality hit me: If the police are at my home, something bad is happening.I quickly opened the door, bracing myself for bad news and reminding myself that whatever it was, I could take it. I’d already lost a child, which I’d heard was the worst thing a person could ever endure. Allan and I had made it through that. We’d make it through this, too.“Mrs. Crandall?” The tall, box-faced man asked. His much shorter companion tipped his hat.“Yes. I’m Ashley Crandall.”“Ma’am, I’m Officer Logan. This is Detective Jackson. Dallas County Sheriff’s Office. I’m sorry to tell you this, but there was an incident at the retreat. Your husband is dead.”
May 26, 2017
Review: The CEO's Nanny Affair
The CEO's Nanny Affair by Joss WoodMy rating: 3 of 5 stars
Tate and Linc's romance started with hot chemistry and kept moving at that pace until the end. I finished this read in hours. I had a couple unanswered questions and there were dropped storylines that I think would have added depth but I enjoyed the happy-ever-after ending. I would read more from this author.
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