Tag Archives: Prism Book Group

Guest Release–Answering Sarah by Nancy Shew Bolton

AnsweringSarah_Cover copy (2)

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After a fire destroys their home when she was a girl, Sarah’s family rebuilds their lives, yet the echoes of the fire’s damage remain. Sarah learned to turn inward, and keep her curious mind to herself, asking God all the questions that her own father used to delight in. But the fire silenced her father, and spread the stillness to the rest of them. Yet Sarah longs to express herself, to find answers to all her questions. A new, young pastor arrives, and captivates her heart. The prospect of a challenging and unexpected life dances before her, but then is held out of her reach. And with the new possibilities come questions she’s never asked herself before. Is she ready for the answers?

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EXCERPT

Soon Mary left the library to help fix supper, but Pastor stayed. How she wished he would leave so she could lay her head on the desk and cry away some of this pain. He’d go soon, and then she could give in to her tears.

She sat at her desk and wrote reminders for tomorrow. Considering her jumbled state of mind, she doubted her ability to remember anything. The sound of the door closing made her look up. He hadn’t even said good-bye. She scanned the pegs on the wall. He was in such a hurry to go, he forgot his coat.

He was probably glad to go home, away from her gloomy unfriendliness. Thank God, he couldn’t see how petty she was. What a failure she’d turned out to be. A test came along, and all manner of awful things poured out of her. She wanted to go home.

Sobs shook her as she released the tears and held her bowed head in her hands.

God, please forgive me. Please help me. Please.

“Sarah, what is it? What’s the matter?” Pastor’s alarmed voice cut through her sobs.

Oh, no.

He stood next to her desk. How could she look at him? What could she say? Why was he there?

She tried to catch her breath. “I…I miss my family. I wouldn’t have cried, but I thought I was alone.” She took a few shaky breaths and kept her gaze down.

“I saw Deacon Tobias outside trying to calm down his horse and went out to help him. He said the leaves spooked her.” He was silent a moment. When he spoke, she could barely hear him. “Sarah, how can I help you?”

“I’m all right. Don’t bother about me. I’ll be fine in a minute.” She stood and walked past him to the stacks of books. How could she let herself get to this point? She’d never be able to look him in the eyes again. Heavy silence filled the room. Sarah stood and stared at the books, mind blank, unable to remember what she should do next. She could feel his presence and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Sarah?”

She couldn’t take any more. Why wouldn’t he leave?

Her voice shook. “Pastor, please. I can’t talk right now.”

“Let me help—”

“No. Please leave me alone. Please.”

Silence.

Just go or I’ll lose my mind.

She waited, back stiff, head held high.

“All right.” Pastor’s voice sounded sad and resigned. He must have been so disappointed in her.

She heard him put on his coat. The door closed behind him. Trembling, Sarah walked back to her desk and almost tumbled onto the chair. She crossed her arms over the top of her desk and dropped her head onto them. Her heart yearned for her family and her life as it had been before.

I can’t do this. I don’t have the strength.

Nancy Bolton

Nancy Shew Bolton is a wife of 43 years, mother of five grown sons, and grandmother to a boy and girl. She’s lived in the Finger Lakes region of upstate NY all her life. Her faith, her family and her surroundings inspire her writing. Her books explore the many depths of faith and love.

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Guest Interview with DiAne Gates

Linda, it’s so kind of you to have me on your blog today. Thank you.

Tell us a bit about you and your background.

I’m a Florida gal turned Texan for the past thirty something years. I won my first writing contest when I was a teen. The article, entitled The Basis of a Great Nation is a Christian Home, and the paper still resides in my cedar chest. I cringe at the teenage grammar.  I also paint and for most of my life painting took center stage. Moving to Texas stirred my interest in rodeo and the rest is history. I wrote articles and took photographs for the Youth Rodeo Association in East Texas, and rodeo is kinda like Florida sand—once the sights, sounds, and razzle-dazzle of the arena gets in your blood, well, you know—Roped was the result and I’m pleased to let you know Twisted is finished and will be with my editor at Prism Books by the second week in June.

What are your hobbies away from the computer?

I come from a long line of foodies. My mom and aunt were caterers and I love to create new recipes and tinker with Mama’s family favorites. Being raised in the deep south, fried chicken, grits, and greens were the staples tingling my early taste buds. However, you can’t be a Texan and not love spicy. When the frustrations of technology get the best of me, I head to the garden. I love, love, love flowers and photography, as my FaceBook page and blog illustrate.

Is your writing style planned or freestyle?

Definitely a SOP writer—Seat of the Pants—start to finish. Outlines are for sane, normal people. I’m sure if they tested me for ADD, I’d rank off-the-charts nutty artist. I’ve taken some personality tests that place me as a totally right-brained individual. Not one brain cell even leans left. Just ask my accountant husband, or my math teachers.

I generally begin with a situation or principle or character flaw and build my story from there. When writing Roped, my phenomenal edit group coined a phrase—that’s not a Crissy word. And bless their hearts, that phrase made Crissy’s character bud and bloom on the page. She’s Texan to the bone.

Have you traveled to any locations that appear in your books?

Terrell, Texas is the scene for the Roped series, that’s about twelve miles from our home in the small town of Crandall, Texas. But you will find a rodeo arena, horses and trucks and trailers, goats, and cattle, and, of course, barbeque, near any-town-Texas.

 Can you share a tip about what you do when you get stuck in creating a story?

Take a bath, a bubble-bath preferably. Don’t laugh, I’m in good company. Author DiAnn Mills shares my idiosyncrasy. Something about relaxing in the warm water sets my brain to problem solve.  I just have to remember to keep a note pad on the sink so I can write the dialogue, plot twist, or whatever down before I forget. DiAnn’s dear husband installed a white-board for her creative flashes. The accountant personality in my husband said, “Really?”

What was your biggest surprise in the editing/revision process?

I mentioned earlier I belong to a group of the greatest writers this side of heaven. We are seven in number. I’ve dubbed us The Magnificent Seven, but in fact we are called The Literati. And six of them are indeed magnificent! When we began I would create what I thought was wonderful. Arrive at our weekly meeting to find these six magnificent writers had torn my work apart. The drive home was usually tearful, with my husband asking, “Why do you go to these meetings?” “To learn to write,” I’d reply, sniff, and blow my nose. “Well, are you learning?” I’d change the subject and determine next week I’d show ’em.

By the time Roped reached my Prism editor, tears, rewrites, and revisions could have filled several moving boxes. Too bad I didn’t buy stock in Kleenex. I’ve learned the editing process is an awful lot like work, but they are also a writer’s best friend.

Do you write in a genre other than the one of this release?

Oh yes, my blog is serious non-fiction, written mainly to the Church. I believe the Church is one of the largest mission fields in the world. Most church members don’t crack their Bible during the week. They come to church to have their weekly feeding of the Word, then starve ‘til the next Sunday. That’s why our children have very little interest in the things of God and have been transfixed by the world. Because you can’t teach your children what you don’t know. I also write about the grieving process on my blog.

My writing career seriously began with a four book family devotional series entitled The Master’s Plan, which I’ve written and illustrated. And it keeps company with another children’s book, Arnold the Ant Who Didn’t Want To Be…an ant. Again one I’ve written and illustrated.  These five books are looking for a publishing home. Prism does not publish children’s books.

In what genre do you read?

If you had asked me three weeks ago,my resounding answer would have been, mystery/adventure. But two Prism authors have changed my mind by their new releases, Nancy Bolton with her historical fiction romance, Answering Sarah, and Julie Cosgrove, with her Navy Blues. My favorite author is Joel Rosenberg. His nail-biting, heart-stopping, fiction you’ll probably read as headlines in the newspaper in a month or two.

What do you hope readers gain from your stories?

No doubt whatsoever, the ability to see the issues my characters face and learn what to do and what not to do when facing those same life experiences. My stories are Christ based. Not hit you over the head with my Bible, but real life problems and what the Word has to say about our choices. In Crissy’s case, her Papa is the glue that holds the family together. A man who has walked with the Lord through the tragedies of life. The grandpa we’d all like to have claimed.

Roped

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“Will Texas teen Crissy Crosby’s rivalry and temper throw her off her dream to win the rodeo buckle?

When life bucks hard and unfair, will she latch onto the faith she was raised to rely upon or grasp anger and pride as her rope on this ride?”

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EXCERPT

“Before Chun could sit down, Jodie Lea leaned over and deliberately jammed her elbow into his side, then scooted as close as she could against the side of the bus, just as Mrs. Moore shifted the bus into gear and stepped on the gas.

One of his books jarred lose and tumbled into her lap. In a rage she turned and took aim. “What a jerk.” And with both hands, shoved the poor kid backward. He fell, fanny first, to the floor. Books flew every which way.

She leaped out of her seat and gathered up the fabric of her skirt, holding it fan-style for everyone to see. “Watch what you’re doin’, moron.” She turned to the other kids, stuck her nose in the air, and the curtain went up on her one-act horror show.

“His dirty Chinese slime is all over my brand new skirt. It’s ruined.” She brushed at an imaginary spot. “Stupid nerd. Why don’t you go back to China?”

I gasped. That was evil. Even for Jodie Lea.

She slipped a smirk at her two dingy girl-shadows who were equally offended. Jodie Lea stretched herself to haughty, her arms folded, her lips pouty, and her eyes narrowed to slits.

The boy sat motionless on the floor, muttering, “Please excuse me. I did not mean to cause you harm.” He struggled to his feet and reached to brush the invisible smudge from Jodie Lea’s skirt.

She flattened herself against the window wall of the bus. “Don’t touch me.” Her shriek had the grinding pitch of a tornado siren.

“Hey kid.” Jimmy Henry grabbed Chun’s arm and shoved him back down on the floor. “Can’t ya hear? Are ya yellow?”

Another boy jammed his foot against the new kid’s chest and pinned him there.

Our bus driver, Mrs. Moore, shouted, “Knock off the noise and sit down, or you’ll all end up in the principal’s office.”

Chun mumbled something in his native language. Sure couldn’t understand what he said. Prob’ly a good thing. But the hair on the back of my neck bristled. Poor kid. If Mrs. Moore didn’t do something—

The kids snickered and picked up Jodie Lea’s taunts.

I sprang from the back seat. “That’s enough.” In two quick steps, I latched onto Jimmy’s arm and shoved him away. “Knock it off. Can’t you see he’s upset?” I kicked the other kid’s foot off the boy’s chest and reached down to give Chun a hand up. “It’s his first day. Give him a break.”

An arsenal of words somersaulted syllable over syllable out of my heart and leaped off my tongue. “Jodie Lea Fairgate. This was low—even for you. You’ve done some rotten things, but this one ranks with the worst-of-your-worst.”

My bad-self suggested I rub her nose into the floor. I had enough cause. But Mama’s voice echoed in my ear. Not a word, Crissy.

So with all the self-control I could scrape up. I shut up, glared at her, and returned to my seat.

A voice came from the back of the bus. “You takin’ up for the nerd, Crissy?”

I stopped and, with my hands on my hips and my best cowgirl swagger, scanned the crowd of faces. “Yep, you wanna make something of it?”

“Don’t you guys know? Nerds of a feather fly together.” Jodie Lea twisted her face into an evil-step-sister grin and her groupie friends, of course, did the same.

Yikes, a litter of Cheshire cats. Monster-show scary. Right.

On his feet by this time, Chun’s face blushed a vivid shade of crimson.

I crawled under the seat to rescue his books. “Don’t pay attention to that girl. She’s the jerk.” I took his arm and guided him back to my row, then sat and glared at Jodie Lea Fairgate and the others ‘til their laughter stopped. Talk about rotten—that girl’s heart must be tough as steel. And dark. Very, very dark.

The boy glanced at me, his mouth forming a wanna-be half-smile. “Thank you for helping me.” Then he sat and stared at the floor.

I gestured toward the other kids. “They’re just a bunch of wooly-buggers. They follow whatever that stupid girl does. She’s trouble with a capital “T.”

“I did not mean to harm her.” Chun’s eyes met mine long enough for me to see those deep chocolate circles fill up with sad. My heart hurt to see him upset because of Jodie Lea Fairgate.

“Just stay out of her way and ignore her. That’s what I do.”

A twinge of guilt tugged my conscience. Yeah, right. Sure you do.”

REVIEW SNIPPETS

“A great read for teens and adults, Roped is a gallop-paced rodeo ride from the first to the last page. ” ~Lori

“Couldn’t put it down. Truly an AMAZING work of art.” ~Abigail

DiAne Gates

Texas writer, DiAne Gates, illustrates and writes fiction for children, YA, and serious non-fiction for the folks. Her passion is calling the Church’s attention to how far we’ve catapulted from God’s order.

DiAne worked as a photographer and writer for the East Texas Rodeo Association, which gave birth to this western rodeo adventure series, ROPED. The second book in the series, entitled TWISTED is just completed and with Prism Books.

She leads an edit group for North Texas Christian Writers and is a GriefShare Facilitator. Wife, mother, and grandmother, whose passion is to share those life lessons God is teaching her. Lessons she hopes will leap from the page into your heart.

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Leave a comment on this blog post and be eligible for the chance to win a signed paperback copy of Roped.

 

Sale Promotion–LOVE COMES CALLING by Deborah Piccurelli

Love Comes Calling June 3

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New Christian, Derek Spencer, falls for Charlie Parkes the very day he shows up on her doorstep to make up for what he’d done. But Charlie’s sister mistakes him for a home improvement contractor, and he decides to play along until he finds a way to explain who he really is.

Charlie is attracted to Derek, but knows the attention he shows her is only flattery. How could this handsome guy fall for someone with a face like hers? Nevertheless, the two form a relationship, bringing a joy to Charlie that’s way beyond her wildest dreams.

But what will happen when Derek’s true identity is revealed?

From Prism Book Group on sale for 99cents until June 15

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EXCERPT

Before leaving the kitchen, he asked, “May I take you out somewhere for lunch tomorrow?”

Stunned, she almost dropped the plate she had been drying. “Ou-out?”

“Yeah, you know, a restaurant? Where someone else will be serving the food?”

“I-I… Okay. Sure.” Are you crazy, Charlie girl? Everyone will see you and stare at you. Then poor Derek will be embarrassed.

“Good.” He turned to walk away.

“Wait.”

He stopped and waited.

“On second thought, maybe I’d better not.”

In a nanosecond, he closed the space that separated them. “Why?”

His closeness made her claustrophobic. She half-turned her face away. “Oh, Derek, you don’t want to be seen in public with me.”

“Excuse me, but I think that’s my decision.”

“Please.” She moved away from him to replace a bowl into the cabinet and to put a more comfortable distance between them. “I don’t want to embarrass you.” He’d trailed her steps, and his breath ruffled a wisp of her hair. She turned and backed up, only to bump against the counter.

“What makes you think you’ll embarrass me?”

“Oh, c’mon, you’re not blind. People will stare and wonder what a good-looking guy like you is doing with someone who . . . looks like me.”

She dodged to escape his nearness, but he was too quick and trapped her between his arms as each of his hands grasped the edge of the counter. His height required him to lean slightly in order to accomplish this, putting them nose-to-nose.

“No. You’re not going to run away. Listen to me. You’re beautiful.” She turned her face, and he pulled her chin up so that she had no choice but to look into his eyes. “You are beautiful. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I like spending time with you, and I’m not ashamed of that or of you.”

DEBORAH PICCURELLI (5-26-16)

Deborah M. Piccurelli enjoys reading and writing romantic books. She is the author of two novels, a novella and several cause-related newspaper articles. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and an advocate for sanctity of life. Deborah lives in New Jersey with her husband and two sons.

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Guest Release—Navy Blues by Julie B Cosgrove

LoveIs_NavyBlues May 27

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Her fiancé cheated on her…in paradise. Broken hearted and confused, Emma flies home to Fort Worth, Texas not sure what life without him will entail.

Ryan is being discharged from the Navy to join a gastroenterology private practice in Fort Worth. New city, new life. The last thing on his mind is falling in love. Until a forlorn lady sniffles in the seat beside him on the flight.

A storm, an emergency landing and an out of control ex-fiancé thrusts Ryan and Em into a dilemma. Each must make some tough choices, but will those involve each other?

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EXCERPT

Just as I mouthed a thanks to God, an eardrum-stabbing wail occurred two rows back. “Why can’t Daddy sit with meeeee?”

The man huffed and twisted toward the sound. “Because the airlines said Daddy’s seat is here. You stay with Mommy.”

The child’s whining persisted as people jabbed and jostled through the claustrophobic cabin. It would be a full flight. My temples began to pulse.

One baritone voice pierced the din. “I’ll trade with you.”

I turned to see sandy hair, a chiseled jaw, and piercing blue eyes on the face of a military man. He held his boarding pass in one hand and a khaki duffle bag in the other. It matched his uniform. The Naval emblem on his brass belt buckle glimmered in the late afternoon light as it streamed through the airplane’s portal. Well, this was Hawaii. A bunch of the men onboard wore Navy fatigues. He was being transferred like the rest of them, no doubt.

“Really?” The father lost half of the worry lines on his forehead. “Thanks.”

The sailor hoisted his duffle and a briefcase into the compartment above us and shrugged. “No problem. A seat is a seat.” His eyes dropped to scan me. I pulled my skirt over my knees and shifted my gaze to the tarmac beyond the double-paned oval window.

From the outer edge of my vision, I saw the two exchange positions. In mid-movement, they shook hands. The Navy man smiled. “You should be with your family, man. It’s only right.”

He sat down, adjusted his position to dig the seat belt out from the cushion, and then leaned into my space to click it. The insignia on his left collar resembled a gold tree with a green stone in it. On the right, perched a silver maple leaf. Even though my father was in the Naval Reserves most of my early childhood, I never mastered deciphering rank and emblems. I did remember those two meant he was an officer of some sort and, by the khakis he wore, he’d been out to sea.

I shot him a semi-warm grin. “That was nice of you to do that, um, Lieutenant, is it?”

“Actually, it’s Doctor.”

My mouth formed a small “O.”

He whispered in my direction. “And it was a purely selfish act. Why would I want to sit next to his kid while she blubbered the whole trip?”

My mouth readied to spill my thoughts about his brash remark, until I saw his wink. Instead, I inched my lips to the right in a fake chuckle. “Very funny.”

“I had you. Admit it.” Those crystal blue pools twinkled with mirth. He extended his hand. “Name’s Ryan MacKenzie. Lieutenant in the Navy, for another 48 hours or so.”

I kept mine in my lap and nodded. “Emma West. My friends call me Em.”

“M? For mystery woman?” The sides of his mouth curled upward. His attention briefly focused on my left hand. It was bare, though it had yet to feel that way to me.

“Hardly.” The words croaked from my throat. I placed my right hand on top and blinked the tears back into my eyes. The white mark around my ring finger where the sun had not hit for four years screamed my plight—rejected for another, not good enough.  The warmth and strength of his fingers covered mine. Soft. Clean nails. Surgeon’s hands. He whispered, “Sorry. Forgive my crassness.”

I bobbed my head, and as quickly as the sensation came, it left as he released his touch. Something inside me wanted to grab it back. But that would be ridiculous. I didn’t even know the guy. I closed my eyes and shut out the cabin noises. The horrid scene, which caused my decision to board this flight, replayed in my mind. I’d tossed the two carat, blue-diamond solitaire— courtesy of my father’s checkbook so his daughter would wear a decent stone—at Trey’s head as it lay tousled on the bed pillows next to another’s, obviously not mine. She scrambled to the bathroom, wrapped in a bed sheet. He pleaded it had been a one time lapse of judgment. I seriously doubted that. Living in two different cities almost four thousand miles apart had taken its toll. How could I have been so naïve?

Above our heads, the seat belt sign dinged off. Airborne. My teeth pinched my lower lip as I observed the island chain disappear amongst the clouds. I always hated good-byes. This one had been final. I’d never be back. The vice grip around my chest crushed my heart some more. Dear God in Heaven, don’t let this naval doctor see me cry. I swallowed the saliva in my mouth in an effort to force the puddles under my eyelids back as well.

He broke the silence. “You okay? Your face seems rather blue.”

Had I put on navy liner and mascara that day? Did it streak down my face? I wiped my finger across my under-eye skin then peered at it. No, not very smudged.

He chuckled. “I meant blue as in down. You know, perturbed. If I offended you.”

I returned my gaze to the wisp of clouds. The sun’s rays infused them with gold. The delicate celestial waves shimmered like a pearl-seed edged lace veil, one I’d never wear now. “It’s not you. I just hated to leave, that’s all.” I turned to him with a forced smile. “But, Spring Break’s over. Back to the grind.”

“Are you, uh, in school?” His eyes narrowed inside his scrunched eyebrows.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

He coughed into his fist. “Well, I mean people go back all the time, I…”

His stumble-stepping over his words brought a chuckle to my lips, though a small one. “I teach at the community college.” With a tilt of my head, I parroted his previous jab. “Admit it. I got you.”

His facial muscles relaxed. “Touché.”

Julie Cosgrove

Julie B Cosgrove is an award-winning novelist, freelance Christian devotional writer and public speaker.  When she is not writing novels, she enjoys reading those by other faith-based authors  while curled on her sofa with her two purring cats and a cup of Earl Grey.  Visit her website www.juliebcosgrove.com and her devotional blog: Where Did You Find God Today?

Guest Release–A Taste of Tragedy by Kim McMahill

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Morgan Hunter sacrificed everything for her career. She had yet to encounter anything she wasn’t willing to do to succeed…until now. When she uncovers evidence that the healthy foods she’s been hired to promote may be dangerous, she must reevaluate her priorities. As questions mount and the body count rises, she finds herself caught in the crosshairs of an organization that will stop at nothing to hide its secrets and protect its profits. With no one else to trust, Morgan is forced to seek help from the man she drove away, but whom she never stopped loving.

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EXCERPT

Morgan woke to pitch black. Not only were her hands and ankles bound, and her mouth taped shut, but she was also cocooned in a thick wool blanket. The bouncing told her she was in a vehicle, but she was clearly no longer in the back of her car.

Fear coursed through her veins as she struggled to understand where she was and what had happened. She wanted to take a deep breath to help calm her nerves, but with one nostril filled with dried blood and her mouth taped, it was difficult to breathe at all.

Forcing herself not to panic, she sucked in tiny bursts of air through her one open nostril until she was confident she wouldn’t suffocate. She wiggled her toes and fingers to try and get the blood flowing and the tingling to subside.

As the fog slowly cleared from her mind, she wondered how long she had been out. The last thing she remembered was trying to stand and keep her balance, so that she wouldn’t fall on the floor of that filthy warehouse. Now, she was here, but where was here?

Morgan tried to unroll herself from the constricting blanket, but soon bumped into a cardboard box. Despite the aches and pains emanating throughout her body, she bounced her body back toward her starting place, trying not to rewrap herself in the blanket, which would negate any progress. She unrolled herself again and repeated the process until she was free from the blanket.

Her body throbbed nearly everywhere, but being free of the wrap felt liberating. She wasn’t sure what to do next. She didn’t know if the driver of the vehicle was working with the woman who abducted her, or if he or she would be surprised to find her in his or her truck.

Morgan wasn’t sure how long she lay there in the dark when the truck finally slowed. She listened to the loud staccato noise of its Jake brake, and eventually the rig came to a stop. It was now or never. When the truck got back on the road, the driver would not be able to hear her.

She scooted around until her back was braced solidly against a large cardboard box. Once the truck motor silenced and she heard the door slam shut, Morgan kicked at the back door with all her might.

After several moments, she heard the lock and then the latch being opened. Light flooded the interior, blinding her. As her eyes adjusted, she found herself staring into the startled eyes of a man in a faded t-shirt.

KimMcMahill

Kim started out writing non-fiction, but her passion for exotic world travel, outrageous adventures, stories of survival, and happily-ever-after endings soon drew her into a world of romantic suspense. Along with writing adventure novels, Kim has also published over eighty travel and geographic articles, and contributed to a travel anthology and cookbook.

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Guest Release–Everything About You by Lisa Lickel

LoveIs_EverythingAboutYou copy [7018] - Copy

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She needs a movie set miracle, he needs cash…can a farmer morph into a movie star in five days?

If Shelly has her way, Danny will become America’s next heartthrob and she’ll get her own promotions company. He’s already gorgeous, a little naive, and needs to work on that accent. To Danny, Shelly is on the pompous side, but holds the key to his real dreams…if he can figure out all the rules, say the right things for the daily vlog session, keep his heart strings in place, dodge Shelly’s vicious former boyfriend and the movie star diva. Shelly’s about to lose a lot more than her heart if she can’t get a handle on her wounded pride and learn who to trust.

BUY LINK–Book is FREE April 4 through 6, 2016

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EXCERPT

By the time Fred corralled Shelly for her final vlog entry, it was dark on the outdoor set, mosquitoes overcame the aerial spray, and Shelly had not eaten since mid-morning. Winston was safely ensconced in Roma’s quarters, a canvas tent she insisted on so vocal distortion was kept to a minimum.

“You got Winston on film today, right?” Shelly twisted her neck to loosen up and swung her shoulders.

“Oh, yeah, I did that, sweetheart.”

“How’d he do? Sound okay?”

“He’ll need some work with Roma, but he handled himself well.”

Fred wore a strange grin.

“What? He have good angles? He looks all right?”

“That he does. Okay, I’m going to run film, so pretend I’m not here and talk like the camera is your best friend. Spill your guts, doll, and mean it.”

Shelly swallowed a few times and put the long, long, long day to the back of her mind. The light kept her from seeing Fred. She blinked at the red light and…

“Tommy set me up for this. I am a good publicist and he knows it. Tommy Lord became what he is because of me. Wait. I take that back. He’s a rat fink, but I didn’t make him that way.

You hear me?” Shelly laughed from the back of her throat. “For dropping me, I’m going ride tracks all down your back on the way to taking Jovian Productions to number one. You don’t deserve to be second in the industry, either. Everything about you and your joke of a distribution company is second-rate.”

Cripes, now she was repeating herself. Shelly stared at her hands, trying to think of stuff to say that sounded good. People loved at that juicy dirt talk. Even if she was over Tommy. She had her pride, after all, and none of the gossip in the tabloids was true. Talk about her day. Yeah.

“Since the moment Mr. Pettibone kicked Seth Taylor off the set and Winston Daniels stepped into the spotlight, I knew I could do something with him. Such great bones and good physique to work with. I guarantee you that within five days, I make every woman in the world drool over him and every man admire him. With his naturally thick hair, romantic build, and dreamy eyes, we’ll create a publicity campaign that puts his picture on billboards in every city, ads in all major publications, and do an online drive in everyone’s face and ear. The world will fall in love with him, the new lead in Everything About You, a movie that will make Love Story look like a postcard.”

Lisa Lickel A (3) 105 KB

Lisa Lickel lives in the rolling hills of western Wisconsin. Surrounded by books and dragons, she writes inspiring fiction. Her novels include the Buried Treasure mystery series (The Last Bequest, The Map Quilt and The Newspaper Code) and the award-winning romance, Meander ScarA Summer in Oakville, co-authored with best-selling author Shellie Neumeier, Healing Grace, The Last Detail and a series of historical early reader books, First Children of Farmington among others. She also writes short stories, feature articles, and radio theater. She is a member of Wisconsin Writers Association and the Chicago Writer’s Association. Lisa loves to encourage new authors through mentoring, speaking, and leading workshops. Lisa also is an avid book reviewer and blogger, and a freelance editor. She is married to a high school biology teacher, and they have two sons and daughters in law, grandchildren and a grand-kitty.

WEB CONTACTS

Website

Blog

Goodreads

Amazon Author page 

Twitter

Facebook

Guest Interview—Emily Paige Skeen

Tell us a bit about you and your background.

Even though I’ve always loved writing, I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to make a living at it. So, I chose Public Relations as my career goal. But actually, I changed my major several times throughout college. Looking back, I think it was because I knew deep down that writing was my passion, I just didn’t really know where to start and I needed a degree that I could “do something” with.

After college, I worked as the PR and Marketing Manager for a small business, but it never fully satisfied me. I didn’t feel appreciated for the work I did, and the stress level was high. I left that job in search of an organization that would nurture, challenge, and appreciate me – all at the same time. Well, I found exactly that. I landed a job that wasn’t what I went to school for, but that gave me experience in a lot of different things, including writing. My bosses were amazing and we were all truly a family. I moved up the leadership ladder quickly and really loved going to work.

Still, something was missing. I had a three-year-old daughter at home when I discovered that my husband and I were expecting another baby. My heart was telling me to stay home with the children, but our financial situation was telling me it wasn’t possible. But I had to find a way. So, I started completing writing gigs on a content mill platform. It didn’t pay much, but it was the start of my freelance writing career.

You may be wondering what all of this has to do with my fiction work. Fiction writing is what I consider my calling, but it’s an incredibly difficult field to break into – and even more difficult to succeed in, as the competition is overwhelming. I had self-published Magnolia Lake while still working full-time, but never got offered a traditional publishing deal until I took a leap of faith and quit my job (isn’t that such a God thing?). And then I stumbled upon Prism Book Group, and the rest is history.

What are your hobbies away from the computer?

To be honest, my life tends to revolve around the computer lately. Between freelance writing, working on my newest story, and promoting Magnolia Lake, I get a LOT of screen time.

But when I do tear myself away, I love to play outside with the kids. My youngest got a trampoline from Santa Claus last year, and I get a kick out of jumping on it with her. It may just be fun for her, but it’s quite the workout for Mama! I’ve taught her the games my friends and I used to play on my trampoline as a child, and she loves it.

Other than that, I enjoy bargain shopping (I thrive on finding good deals!), date nights with my husband, movie and dinner dates with my best girlfriends, and reading – I’d read all day long if I could, preferably on a beach somewhere.

Is your writing style planned or freestyle?

I’d say it’s a mixture of both. I start with a general idea, sort of a feeling. It’s hard to explain, but I get this sense of what would make a good story – almost like a vision. It could be just one scene playing out in my head or a theme for an entire story, and I go from there.

I do like to plan out each character, though. Once I have a story idea, I literally write a description of at least the main characters – everything from personality to clothing style to job, even their flaws. I’ll let you in on a little secret, though. I actually didn’t do this right away with Magnolia Lake. But one day I read an article by an author about the importance of detailing your characters before you start writing. So even though I was halfway through Magnolia Lake, I went back and jotted down a few things about each of my important characters. And it has made a huge difference. It helped a lot during the editing stage. I would read something I had previously written and think, “Okay, Landon would never say that this way. Maybe he’d say it this way instead.”

But other than a general idea of how the story will go and the details about each character, I don’t do a lot of planning. Part of the joy of writing is seeing where each book takes me as it develops. Sometimes I end up with a completely different ending than I’d envisioned, or a new character makes its way onto the page.

I’ll say this, though. I tend to sporadically imagine very specific scenes. I guess you could say inspiration strikes at the most random moments. Whether it’s from a conversation I’m having with someone or something I just observe around me, I’ll get this entire scene playing out in my head. I’ve learned to carry a journal in my purse, because if I don’t write it down immediately, it’s gone.

 

What was your biggest surprise in the editing/revision process?

Honestly, I was shocked at the sheer amount of editing involved – how many times my editor and I sent the manuscript back and forth! If you know me, you know that I pride myself on grammar and strive toward perfectionism in my writing. So it befuddled me that each time I read the manuscript, I found a new grammatical error or a sentence that didn’t flow well.

Before I self-published Magnolia Lake back in 2013, I personally edited it at least three times, and I had one of my sisters edit it too. I thought there was no way any problems would be found. Little did I know! And not just small issues, but also a rather big time-frame problem. That’s why I’d love for people who purchased the original, self-published version to check out the new one. It’s so much better!

Do you write in a genre other than the one of this release?

Magnolia Lake is Young Adult Fiction, but my current work-in-progress is what I guess you’d call Contemporary Christian Fiction. While I enjoy writing for the YA audience, I’m focusing on a more mature audience for my next few projects. The main characters’ ages are mid to late twenties. The writing is still clean and appropriate enough for a teen to read, but will resonate more with adults who are possibly recently married, have graduated college and are starting their career journeys, or are new parents. I plan on doing more YA work in the future, though.

MagnoliaLake_Ecover copy (1)

BLURB

Popular and beautiful, Cora Stephens has it all – including the perfect football-star boyfriend – until one fateful afternoon. Facing heartache and betrayal, Cora turns to long-time friend, Landon, for comfort. While his love for her grows, she does everything in her power to avoid getting hurt again – including flinging herself into the arms of another boy.

Then, just as Cora’s shattered world starts putting itself back together, life throws something her way that’s more horrific than she ever could have imagined. Through the emotional and physical pain, she begins to lose hope and abandon her faith. Will this once light-hearted, happy prom queen find her way back home?

PRE-ORDER LINKS

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

GIVEAWAY

The name of a person who comments will be selected to win an ebook of Magnolia Lake.

EXCERPT

As I backtracked through the parked vehicles, I heard footsteps again. Pausing, I looked around. Nobody was there. In fact, the entire parking lot seemed to lack a normal level of activity. There were plenty of cars, but there was not a single person walking around.

I shook my head to clear it, and started walking again—a little faster this time. Suddenly, I heard the sound again. Before I could turn around, something jabbed my back and a hand was over my mouth. I gasped and my whole body shook with fear. The smoothie I held slipped through my hand, splattering all over my shoes and jeans.

Suddenly, hot air blew in my ear at the same time I heard a deep voice say, “Don’t make a sound or I’ll push this knife through your back all the way into your heart.” The gloved hand tightened over my mouth. “Now walk,” the voice ordered.

My legs didn’t move. I was completely frozen with terror. My mind raced as I contemplated what to do next. I knew Kayla couldn’t see me. She was facing the opposite direction and there were too many cars between us. If I screamed I’d get stabbed, but it might give me a chance to wriggle free of this man’s hold. I vaguely recalled a special on TV that said most attackers would back off if you screamed, no matter what they said. I tried to open my mouth, but the assailant’s hold strengthened so that I couldn’t even part my lips. My heart rate accelerated and I couldn’t breathe. I was having a panic attack.

“I said move!” The stranger pushed me so hard I almost lost my balance, but then my legs finally seemed to work. I walked as he directed. We went straight for a minute, then he turned me to the right. After what felt like a thousand years, we were standing in front of a white, windowless work van. It was parked between a big jacked-up truck and a huge SUV. Nobody could see what was going on, if there was even anyone in the parking lot.

The side door opened and I stared into the face of another stranger. At least, I assumed he was a stranger. He wore a ski mask to hide his identity.

The first man shoved me into the van. There were no seats aside from the two in the front, so I fell backward and hit my head on something metal. I cringed and lay frozen for a minute. Then I saw what might be my only chance.

The first man stood in front of me, laughing. The second man leaned against the opposite side of the van, sitting cross-legged and messing with a cell phone.

I took a deep breath and kicked with all my strength, barely missing my attacker’s groin. He doubled over and I scrambled to my hands and knees. My heart raced as I struggled to get out of the van. Just as I had one foot out, the second man grabbed my other foot, dragging me back.

Since I’d been half standing, the force of his pull caused me to thud against the van floor again, this time on my stomach. Then he grabbed my waist and flung me against the van wall next to him.

Tears sprung to my eyes as the first attacker, also wearing a ski mask, climbed into the van and slammed the door. I could only see his eyes, and they were staring at me with nothing but pure evil. Then I saw him lift something round—a paperweight maybe? I couldn’t tell exactly what the object was, but I tried to back away as I realized what he intended to do with it. I closed my eyes, praying the blow would be quick.

Emily Skeen

Born and raised in a small Georgia town, Emily Paige Skeen takes from her own life experiences to create real, relatable characters for her novels. She loves to intertwine small-town charm with deep emotion and intrigue, creating stories that inspire readers.

When she’s not writing or chasing after her two youngsters – both under the age of five – you can find Emily reading, soaking up the sun whenever possible, or shopping. She, her husband, and their kids make their home in a tiny little town an hour south of Atlanta, on a five-acre plot of land right off a bumpy red-dirt road. Emily loves to sit and listen as the ever-present crickets and frogs perform their harmonious concerts in the still, quiet evening hours.

Writing has always been Emily’s passion, ever since she crafted her first sloppily hand-written story plastered over spiral notebook paper at the emotionally-charged age of thirteen. Now, she strives to encourage and inspire girls and young women with her writing. She believes that with a little bit of faith and a whole lot of love, anything’s possible.

Author’s web contact links:

Facebook:

Website

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Guest Release–Greener Grasses: Love Does Not Envy by Julie B. Cosgrove

Greener Grasses

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Twin sisters, Erin and Ellen, have envied each other all their lives—so much so they can’t stand to be in the same room and their constant comparisons teeter them both on the brink of divorce. When their mother passes away, her bizarre last request shoves them and their husbands into an unusual situation—spend fourteen days together in her home preparing it for auction or lose all their inheritance. Can they do it, and will their marriages survive the ordeal?

BUY LINKS

Prism Book Group

Amazon

EXCERPT

Church bells tolled their arrival. Already a stream of cars dotted the parking spaces like soldiers lined for battle. For Erin Ballinger Duncan it seemed appropriate. Today she’d combat an overwhelming struggle of the heart. Well, perhaps it could involve skirmish for territory as well— in a strange sort of way. But she tried not to think about that right now.

Erin stepped out of the black limousine with her husband, John, and their two fifteen year-old sons, Travis and Austin. She shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight, a total dichotomy from the darkness brewing in her emotions. She scanned the church driveway and scoffed. Yep, her sister emerged from the limo behind them. “The perfect family has arrived. What no trumpets?”

John rolled his eyes. “Don’t start, Erin. Not today.”

“Whatever. She still makes me want to puke. Perfect life, perfect kids, perfect husband…”

“Stop, okay?” John leaned into her ear with a hiss. “Can’t you two get along for three hours? For your Mom’s sake, and mine by the way.” A residual hurt sounded in his voice. Once again she’d compared him to her sister’s spouse. Erin bit her lip and turned away.

Her twin sister, Ellen sauntered towards them in her black linen three-piece ensemble, which probably cost more than Erin’s monthly grocery bill. Not to mention the black and white pearl earrings and necklace set against her country club tanned skin, or her perfectly curled coiffure. Erin ran a hand over her own short curls, still slightly warm from the hotel hairdryer. When did Ellen find the time to book a hairdresser? They only heard news of their mother’s death three days ago.

Ellen’s  husband, Robert—never called  Bob because that would be too gauche and informal—climbed out in what appeared to be a custom tailored suit accented by a designer tie. Their three girls, Brittany, Elena and Jade, slithered out next, all without a crumple in their dresses. Miniatures of their mother. Each carried herself with shoulders back and spine straight as if the pavement to the church was a style show catwalk. Maybe the posh private girl’s school they attended made them strut with rulers on their heads in order to maintain proper balance.

She felt John’s hand on the small of her back, his pressure firm. She knew the gesture reiterated his demand she behave civilly today. He stood poised in case claws emerged. Erin huffed through her cheeks. “Okay, John. I’ll try. But if one snarky remark escapes from her sculptured ruby lips it won’t end up pretty.”

Ellen brushed past them with a nod, her brood and hubby in tow like peacocks on parade. Erin stretched her mouth in a terse smile as the sisters made brief eye contact. Then with a slam of the limo door, she gathered her boys around her and nudged them ahead. Friends, acquaintances and distant family silently trudged up the steps to the sanctuary doors. Most dressed in black with heads down or glassy eyes set straight ahead and clenched jaws. Typical funeral protocol.

As the families mounted the concrete steps to the church, Erin’s gaze panned her sister’s slim-legged length that ended in a pair of five-inch stilettos, most likely Christian Louboutin. Yep, red soles.  How much did that cost?

With each stride, Erin pressed her high-heeled sore feet to the pavement to keep from wobbling. How did career women wear these all day? Ballet flats or sneakers were more her style as a stay-at-home mom.  A blast of too cold AC and organ music hit her senses as the ushers opened the doors to herd the family down a separate side aisle. To keep the tears from welling again, Erin sucked in a lungful of air and marched straight ahead, chin up—not so much in imitation of her twin as to keep from noticing the sympathetic faces already seated. Her mother always told her daughters to never cry in public.

“Ellen. Robert.” John whispered their names and nodded for them and their girls to enter the reserved pew first. They shot him a terse half-smile and proceeded to herd their perfect princesses as John held his two boys at bay with a firm grasp on their jacket collars.

The perfect family scooted sideways and sat down, which left Erin to sit in front of the post. She leaned into her husband to peer around it so she’d have a view of the altar. With a hiss she verbalized her complaint. “Thanks, John. Of course Ellen gets the aisle view. No matter.”

John sucked in a deep breath through his nose and let it out in an elongated sigh as he snapped open the pew bulletin.

His irritation pierced Erin’s already punctured heart. John, whose best friends were also his brothers, never did understand the strained relationship between her and Ellen. Actually, Erin didn’t either. Twins were supposed to have a special bond. Some even had a secret language they shared. Not her and Ellen. No way.

Julie CosgroveJulie B Cosgrove is an award-winning, multi-published author as well as a Christian freelance devotional writer and public inspirational speaker. You can find links to her writings, fiction and non-fiction, on her website at www.juliebcosgrove.com. Follow her blog at http://WhereDidYouFindGodToday.com.

She is also on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/juliebcosgrove, Twitter-@JulieBCosgrove, LinkedIn and Pinterest.

Guest Release–A Work In Progress by Nancy Shew Bolton

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There’s something cooking outside the kitchen….

They’ve worked together for two years, but that’s all they have in common. Like oil and water, they just don’t mix. Julie thinks he’s a shallow flirt, Mark thinks she’s a cold fish. Despite their mutual dislike, they’ve carved out a civil work relationship at the restaurant. But after each of their inner worlds suffer a jolt; the careful, polite kitchen routine becomes a stew of conflicting emotions. Things are about to get interesting.

BUY LINK: Amazon

EXCERPT

How inconvenient to realize he wasn’t the shallow idiot she’d told herself he was. She knew better than to think of people that way, so why did she think it was okay to judge him so harshly? Julie peeked at his profile when he started the car.

He grinned at her and flipped on the defroster. “I’ll let it warm a minute.”

“Okay.” Now whenever he smiled at her, his face appeared almost painfully handsome, and made her stomach hurt.

 

Bio:

Nancy Shew Bolton is a wife of 42 years, mother of five grown sons, and grandmother to a boy and girl. Ever since she learned to write, she would jot down her thoughts and impressions in little snippets of inspiration in the form of poetry, song lyrics, or short essays. About six years ago, she decided to try her hand at writing a full-length book. She’s since written five works of fiction, two non-fiction, and is working on an idea for a children’s book, as well as more fiction manuscripts. Writing a full-length work is much more challenging than she thought, and she has received so much valuable assistance from other writers, especially from the ACFW critique groups. Her husband has been supportive of her long hours spent at the keyboard. Many thanks to her beloved Johnny! She thanks God and His Son for her life, her loved ones and the spark of creativity inside every person. She believes each person is a unique creation, with their own special voice and place in this amazing universe. God’s handiwork amazes her every day!

WEB CONTACTS

Author Website Link:  http://boltonnancy.com/

Author Blog Link:   The Diamond Mine group blog

Author Facebook Link: https://www.facebook.com/nancy.bolton.7921

Author Twitter: On Twitter

Any Other Pertinent Links: Goodreads page

Guest Interview—Danele Rotharmel

Tell us a bit about you and your background.

Hello, Linda! It’s so nice to have a chance to talk with you and your readers! I grew up with a love of the literary word, and by age five, I knew I wanted to be a writer. As I was growing up, I was always scribbling stories and perfectly ghastly snatches of poetry. (I’m not kidding about the ghastly part—my poetry is pretty awful!) However, my literary dreams seemed to die when my home’s furnace malfunctioned and I became ill from carbon monoxide poisoning. This poisoning triggered Multiple Chemical Sensitivity, partial amnesia, and the worst case of writer’s block imaginable.

For years, I couldn’t write a word. Zip. Nada. Nothing. I would try incredibly hard, but my sentences were as flat as a deflated balloon. My illness worsened, and I was put into quarantine to keep me away from the perfumes and other chemicals that are so prevalent in today’s society. My quarantine lasted for seven years. As my health gradually improved, my writing ability was restored. I began spending massive amounts of time at the computer, and eventually, I had penned the first six novels in The Time Counselor Chronicles. The first book in the series, Time Tsunami, has just been released.

What are your hobbies away from the computer?

I enjoy many activities, but walking while listening to music is my favorite. I absolutely love to go for long, leisurely strolls. I also enjoy gardening, baking, cooking, and drawing.

Is your writing style planned or freestyle?

Although I use a loose outline, my books were written as a way to escape quarantine and to distract myself from physical pain. Because of that, my writing is definitely more freestyle. Sometimes the pain I was experiencing was incredibly intense, and on those horrible days, it helped to let my imagination roam far beyond the walls of my home. I loved mentally wandering the fascinating world of TEMCO. I’ve found that writing a book is even more enjoyable than reading one. And writing is definitely more fun than watching TV or trying to nap. Napping drives me bananas.

If you use music while writing, name your favorite types.

I’m easily distracted, so I wear ear plugs while I write—the green squishy kind that you roll up and stick in your noggin. Sometimes that’s not enough, so I put on noise-reduction earmuffs too. Needless to say, I miss a lot of phone calls. However, I do use music in another way. My characters have become very real to me, and most of them have their own theme song. For instance, in my fourth book, Time Awakening, Phoebe’s song is “Held” written by Christa Wells and sung by Natalie Grant. Phoebe goes through something awful, but she learns that God was with her—holding her—the whole time. In my opinion, certain songs just seem to belong to different characters. They seem to define who they are and express what they are going through.

I suppose that’s the same for me. My current theme song is “I Will Not Be Moved” written and sung by Natalie Grant. When I became ill, I felt like my life had been totally destroyed. I questioned everything about God and my faith, and in the end, I came to the firm conclusion that God is trustworthy regardless of tragedy. When I hear my song, my whole soul rises up and shouts, “Amen!”

Have you traveled to any locations that appear in your books?

Actually, I have. Time Tsunami takes place in two locations: Washington D.C. (where TEMCO headquarters is located) and a small mountain town in Colorado. I visited Washington D.C. in 2000, and I loved it. It’s such a beautiful city. There’s something so grand and awe-inspiring about our nation’s capital. When I was trying to come up with a location for TEMCO, Washington D.C. seemed to be the perfect fit. My other location, Charlesberg, is a fictional town created from a conglomeration of Colorado towns I’ve visited. I’ve lived in Colorado my whole life, and the Rocky Mountains are in my blood. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.

Can you share a tip about what you do when you get stuck in creating a story?

You mean besides pulling out my hair, rending my garments, and wailing loudly? I go for a walk around the lake behind my house and listen to music. For me, staring at a blank computer screen is deadly. I need to feast my eyes on blue skies, colorful flowers, and the sun sparkling on the water. Unfortunately, that doesn’t always work in the wintertime. It’s hard to gaze soulfully at nature during a blizzard. On those days, I watch something funny on TV and try to relax. One good thing about my books is that I split the action between several different characters and locations, so if I’m stuck in one area—the other areas are usually still flowing. I think that helps.

In what genre do you read?

I read anything I can get my hands on. If I’m bored and don’t have a book available, I’ve been known to read canned-food labels, toothpaste boxes, and even VCR manuals. I simply love to read. I always have. The only thing I don’t like to read is anything sexy or demonic. Those types of books make me uncomfortable and give me nightmares. But other than that—bring it on!!!

What do you hope readers gain from your stories?

I hope my readers will completely lose themselves in the pages of my novels. I hope my books will provide them with the sweet escape that they have provided for me. When I became ill, I totally lost my ability to write until God restored it. Because of that, I want to honor God with my books. In a very real way, my novels catalogue my journey back to faith. I hope that my readers feel God’s presence as they read. I hope they sense His fingerprints on every page.

Thank you so much for interviewing me, Linda! I enjoyed answering your questions, and it was an honor to talk with your readers.

Time Tsunami

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To stop a cruel serial killer, she must travel twenty-four years into the past…

Gil Montgomery, a cadet in the Temporal Counseling Program, can’t wait to pass her field exam and become a professional time surfer. The TEMCO program targets death-row offenders for time-based counseling while they’re children.  For her exam, Gil will travel twenty-four years into the past to counsel ten-year-old Danny Winston before he murders his abusive babysitter, Rick Olsen.  Preventing the stabbing should stop the chain of events leading to Danny’s eventual execution. Gil’s assignment seems simple until her adviser, Dr. William Ableman, learns that Rick is a serial killer targeting Danny’s mother.  If Gil stays and protects the Winstons, she might not survive.

William wants the woman he loves to be pulled from the field, but if Gil fails to complete her assignment, it will unleash a Time Tsunami and destroy the timeline. As TEMCO undergoes an emergency lockdown, and Gil’s fellow cadets try to figure out what’s happening, Gil and William learn the importance of faith and the price of true love. Everyone’s fate is resting in Gil’s hands, but does she have the strength she needs to defeat a ruthless serial killer intent on annihilating everyone in his path?

Will she return from the deadly mission?

BUY LINKS

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

EXCERPT

As a blue glow filled the room, Gil looked through the time portal at William and Director Matthews. Her heart missed a beat. She didn’t know what was going on, but judging by the men’s tense expressions, it wasn’t good.

“Hi, guys, what’s up?” she asked in a deliberately casual tone.

“We’re thinking of pulling you from the field,” William replied.

What?”

“Rick’s more dangerous than we thought.”

“I don’t care if he’s Jack the Ripper,” she said flatly. “I’m staying.”

Director Matthews picked up a handful of printouts. “He isn’t Jack the Ripper, but he might as well be. I’ve found evidence that he’s killed at least ten women.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re facing a serial killer,” William said. “You must realize the seriousness of the situation.”

“I do realize it. You don’t. Today’s Danny’s D-day. If I abandon him, he’s gonna die on death row. I love that kid, and I’m not about to let his life be destroyed. Where’s Dr. Nelson? She’d agree with me.”

“She said it was our decision,” the director replied.

“It’s my decision too, and I’m not about to abandon—”

“It’s not abandonment,” William interrupted. “GAP’s only predicting a fifty percent chance that it’ll make a difference to Danny’s future if you stay. Regardless of your hard work, Daniel Winston may be destined for death row. We’re not risking your life over a hopeless—”

“There’s no way you’re getting me out of here! If there’s a fifty percent chance that Danny can be saved, I’m taking that fifty percent chance. It’s my life I’m risking. Not yours.”

William ran a hand over his face. “We’re all risking a lot.”

“I don’t care. I’m not—”

“Enough of this!” William said harshly. “Let the director speak. When he finishes, we’ll discuss things.”

“Here it is, Gil,” the director said. “Bald facts. Fact number one: Rick’s a serial killer. He strangles women with a red cord and hangs their bodies to mimic suicide. He does his murderous work so well, that unless a coroner’s an expert, the homicide is missed. At this time, it’s impossible to know how many murders Rick’s committed.

“Fact two: Rick’s meticulous and methodical—that means he’s dangerous. He’s undoubtedly been planning to kill Sue for weeks. He’ll already have things set in motion.

“Fact three: GAP’s predicting a 98.8 percent chance that if you stay, you will be hurt. Since Danny has only a fifty percent chance of escaping death row, you’ll be risking your life on a gamble.”

Gil sat quietly for a few moments. “I’ve heard what you’ve said and understood it. Will you respect my decision?”

“Yes,” William replied. “It’s your decision to make.”

“Then my answer’s the same as it was from the beginning. I’m staying. Now, give me all the information you can about what I’m facing, and please do it fast. I don’t have much time, and I need all the help I can get.”

GIVEAWAY

To one lucky person who comments on this blog post goes the spiral bound journal “Trust In The Lord With All Your Heart”, 10 purple butterfly notecards with envelopes, and purple-flowered tea cup and saucer seen below:

 

Purple Teacup Journal and Notecards

 

Snippets from 5-star reviews on Amazon:

“Fascinating story! So drawn in by the characters and I could relate with them easily.”

“Full of action, suspense, drama, and romance. Would recommend it to anyone.”

“Loved this book! I could not put it down. Definitely worth reading!”

Danele Rotharmel

Danele Rotharmel’s life took an unexpected turn when a mysterious illness brought her close to death. Eventually, she learned that a carbon monoxide leak from a faulty furnace was poisoning her. This poisoning triggered Multiple Chemical Sensitivity causing her to be put into quarantine. For seven years, she could only talk to friends and extended family through a windowpane. During this time, she wrote the first six books in The Time Counselor Chronicles.  Although her journey back to health was difficult, it provided her the opportunity to grow closer to God and write her books. For that, she’s forever thankful.

WEB CONTACT

blog:  https://dragonflydanele.wordpress.com/