Love in the Air Releases today!

LoveintheAir (506x800)I’ve always wanted to write a hot air balloon story, and I finally got that chance last year. I’m pleased to share that LOVE IN THE AIR releases today! If you enjoy sweet romances–this is your kind of story. 

Back cover copy: 

KYLE MORGAN HAS RETURNED….

He was Nikki Alexander’s first crush—until his stunts in a hot-air-balloon race led to a family tragedy. Then he disappeared, leaving her brokenhearted. Now he’s back and stirring up all her emotions.

Blaming himself for her brother’s death, Kyle stayed away. But now Nikki’s in trouble. And he knows he must step in to make it right. He’ll help save her balloon business…and prove this time he’s here to stay. But first he must win her forgiveness before he can win her heart.

Excerpt:

The propane burner flared, torching the quiet dawn in the empty field.

Nikki Alexander never grew tired of the familiar sound she’d heard since childhood. After the fan blew enough cold morning air inside the rainbow-colored envelope to give it shape, she aimed the flames inside the balloon, which still rested on its side. Once the air began to heat, it would become lighter than the surrounding cooler air.

After a few minutes of hot-air bursts, the envelope lifted upright. “Lenny, stay with the basket and hold it down with me,” she said.

The new kid on the crew, a local high-school student, worked in exchange for learning everything he could about balloons so he could eventually pilot his own. “Okay, boss!”

Nikki smiled and nodded at the freckle-faced kid. She figured anyone willing to get up before dawn to crew a balloon ride deserved the chance. Balloons were typically launched during the early-morning hours or late evening because the winds were lighter, making for easier takeoffs and landings, and she could avoid thermals—when the ground heated up and caused vertical air currents.

She’d already experienced difficulty in controlling her balloon on such an occasion, an experience she didn’t want to repeat. Nor would her passengers appreciate a downdraft that could force the balloon into a hard landing—that and power lines were a balloon’s greatest dangers. That was why even though some people requested more convenient ride hours, Nikki had to turn them down.

She glanced at the scene around her, making sure the rest of the three-man crew—David and Richard—were in position to keep the envelope from rising too soon. The field she typically used for launch was situated next to Sky High Rides, perfect for the winds from the west, which would urge the balloon slowly toward the east and several wide-open fields, where Nikki had arrangements with the landowners.

Her soon-to-be passengers—a man, his wife and their two children—stood back, all eyes wide with amazement, except for the teenage daughter, who focused on an electronic device, probably texting her boyfriend because she wasn’t happy about having to get up before sunrise. Or she was angry because she’d had to leave him behind. The younger of the siblings, the boy, looked about seven or eight, which was her nephew Michael’s age. Already, Nikki could see the light in his eyes and knew he’d never forget this experience. Often one ride was enough to turn someone into a lifelong enthusiast.

Nikki had grown up in the balloon-ride business. Her father, the founder of Sky High, had created a successful business before he died eight years ago. She’d begun her career on the balloon crew and eventually she’d learned to fly and gotten her balloon pilot’s license. At twenty-eight, she had thousands of flight hours to her credit.

The balloon finally ready, she turned to the family and beckoned them forward. She’d already debriefed them on safety. Now they could climb into the basket.

Except that she spotted two familiar figures standing next to a white town car. Her mother stood behind Michael, gripping his shoulders as if holding him back.

“Richard, would you and Lenny mind assisting the family into the basket and wait for me.” Nikki trotted over to the car, tension building at the base of her head.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” She crouched to eye level with Michael and hugged him.

“As soon as you left this morning, he started at me again, begging to go with you.” Her silver-haired mother hadn’t bothered to paint on her usual makeup this early in the morning and looked at least ten years older than usual. “Nikki, you’ve got enough room in the basket.”

The Sky High baskets were commercial size. This particular basket could carry up to fifteen people, but Nikki shook her head anyway. “We’ve talked about this, Mom.”

“Can I ride in the chase car?” Michael looked so much like Nikki’s brother with his blue-gray eyes. He stared at her now, pleading just the way she’d seen Jordan do so many times growing up.

Her heart kinked at the reminder. None of them had recovered from losing Jordan in a balloon accident three years before, least of all Michael, who’d lost his father that day.

Although what happened to her brother was an unusual accident, flying still presented dangers, especially if the pilot was a risk-taker. Nikki would do everything in her power to send Michael on another path. She wouldn’t stand by to watch him follow in his father’s daredevil footsteps.

But right now, she could hardly fight the pleading she saw in her nephew’s gaze, especially if her mother wasn’t strong enough to keep from making the drive over.

She stood up. She’d have another talk with her mother about this later. “Michael can ride with David in the chase car this time.”

“Yippee!” Michael threw his arms up and jumped in victory. He took off running, but Nikki snatched him back.

“Hold on there. I’ll walk you over.” Nikki spotted the family already waiting in the basket, and her crew at the ropes, keeping the balloon earthbound. Of course she’d need to heat the air inside even more to send it floating skyward.

Nikki buckled Michael into the van pulling the equipment trailer. David would drive the van and meet her at the agreed-upon location unless her landing coordinates changed. From there, they would load the equipment on the trailer and bring the family back to their vehicle.

Once she was inside the basket and her passengers prepared, she ignited the flame in the burner, heating the air. Her crew let go of the tether lines.

Slowly, the basket drifted upward.

Nikki looked down and waved at Michael, who watched her from the van. David, Richard and Lenny loaded the rest of the equipment on the trailer and prepared for the chase. She would soon become a tour guide, telling the family about the various sights they would encounter along the ride.

But for the moment, the group was held captive by the fact they were floating in the air, far above the earth.

“It feels like we’re dangling here, not moving.” Finally, the teenager’s attention was stolen from her focus on texting.

Nikki smiled. “That’s because we’re drifting with the current. You won’t sense movement or even that we’re very high, but of course, you can see that we are.”

When the father took it upon himself to explain balloon flight to his children, Nikki allowed him the task. She held back when he got a few things wrong. By the smile on his face, he enjoyed impressing his kids, and she wouldn’t ruin that for him. She allowed her thoughts to drift with the balloon, back to the girl’s words.

It feels like we ‘re dangling here, not moving.

Unfortunately, that was exactly how Nikki felt about her life these days. After her brother’s tragic death while participating in the world’s oldest balloon race, Nikki wanted to sell the family business, to move her little family, which consisted of Michael and her mother, far from the memories. And far from the reminders of the man she once loved.

But there always seemed to be something or someone standing in her way.

Buy:

Amazon paperback

Kindle version 

Christianbook.com

Barnes and Nobles

Copyright © 2013 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited. Cover Art used by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises Limited. All rights reserved. ® and ™ are trademarks owned by Harlequin Enterprises Limited or its affiliated companies, used under license.

Blessings!

Elizabeth Goddard

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My Quandary

So it’s like this. A few months ago I decided to self-publish my original historical series as eBooks. I began the process by scanning the print books into files. These I knew I would have to “edit.” Scanning isn’t perfect, after all. And I knew I’d want to make some changes–I wrote them fifteen years ago. And that was fine, because I really enjoy revisions.

So I got myself positioned on my treadmill desk and brought the first manuscript up on my laptop and started to work on what was actually a pretty good scan. What wasn’t good was…everything else. Oh, does fifteen years make a difference. I’ve heard from lots of readers who enjoyed these. They all made the bestseller lists in their day. But what I saw could be likened to a garden with a decent stone path and some great plantings completely overgrown and full of weeds.

My little heart sang. Here was a Herculean rewrite waiting to happen. And so it began. Whole pages–delete. Not all of them, of course. Some kept a phrase here and a sentence there. But I’m serious when I say I took that book down to the bone, and oh what fun to flesh it out again.

The characters remained, only way better, and the plot points are mostly intact, but, besides that–it’s a new book. Thus my quandary. Because there are still print versions out there (and I can’t find them all and bury them in the back yard) I’m worried people will confuse the two.

These are going to have spiffy new covers, so that might help. I debated about changing the titles, but aficionados may recognize the characters and events and believe I’m trying to pass off as new a book that’s only mostly new. On the other hand readers who discover the series in the eBook version might then buy the out-of-print paper version, thinking it will be the same.

I’ve created a conundrum and would so appreciate all the help I can get. New titles or no? Reader Note to tell former readers these are vastly different? Or does that put off new readers? How honest should I get?

The good part is that I’m in love with the characters, and having so much fun in the process, I can’t even worry too much about the outcome. It’s been a long time since I wrote historical fiction, so that’s a refreshing change, and variety is invigorating for me. I also know that everything I do with these, the first gifts from the Lord in my writing journey, will give him joy. So, for your glory, Lord–and help me do it right!

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Writing Lessons Learned from Football by Julie Arduini

One thing I learned rather quickly when I moved to Ohio was come fall, it’s about football. More than once I’d have a Friday evening meeting to learn it was cancelled because there was a high school game nearby. When I braved Saturday grocery runs, everyone wore the same color, and sometimes even the same type of shirt. Ohio State red.

Football around here is more than a hobby, it’s a passion.
Ohio State football photo: Ohio State 51 IMG_9555.jpg

 

 

 

 

 

Observing high school sports, I realized my writing life is a bit like the football player. The teams around here want more than a few wins. Their goal is the championship.

  • Like football, I need to set the bar high.

If it had been up to me, I’d still be crafting a newsletter for my local Mothers of Preschoolers group, and nothing more. God stirred my heart to dream bigger and write for a wider audience.

While I’m lounging in our pool on a hot July day, our school football team is working it. Many weight lift year round. They start practice long before the first game.

My writing isn’t an overnight success. My recently completed contemporary romance has seen draft after draft and even as I blog this, I’m praying about a major change to the story even as I create the next in the series.

  • Writing takes practice. Learning. Going over the words until you dream about the story. Attending seminars, classes and conferences.

I’ve watched my friend’s son move through the ranks. Now that he’s an upperclassman, the coach has plans for him. There’s anticipation because they’ve seen good things from him on the field. There’s a chance scouts are paying attention. And if they like what they see, they could court him for bigger things after graduation.

  • Quality authors don’t automatically get the call to publishing. They earned their dues and place in the market. I have peers who were so anxious to see their name on a cover and they rushed it, putting to print a work that wasn’t ready.

When I think about where my work is at and the next steps, I’m suited up. I’m watching great friends get the call and run to the field. I have the playbook, I’ve practiced, and my time is coming. I’m setting lofty goals and more than ever, I’m tuned into my coach, waiting for His leading.

And believing one day soon the masses will enjoy my work as much as the people in Ohio love their football.

photobucket

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You Want Real Romance? by Hannah Alexander

Loving Couple

Loving Couple

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve been writing romantic suspense novels, women’s fiction, historical romance and romantic medical thrillers for nearly thirty years. I’ve also made hideous romance choices in my own life and had to live with them for many years. If I’ve learned anything in life, or in writing, romance isn’t for the young and impressionable. It’s for those who have made mistakes, learned the difference between falling in love with a pretty face and seeing the ugliness of the  reality that sometimes hides  behind that face. Romance is also for those who are willing to listen to those who have taken the hard knocks, learned from those bad experiences, and have a beautiful relationship to show for it.

How I wish I’d been a wise young woman who listened to those who had gone on before me, had learned how to love the right person in the first place, and made the decision to wait until the loyal, loving, true man came along. However, now that mine has, I can assure you that I appreciate him so much more than I would have if he’d been my first love. Thank God for my pastor and church staff who set me up with Mel on a blind date and wouldn’t let me escape.

I wrote for fourteen years before Mel came into my life–all of the manuscripts incorporating a certain kind of romance I knew nothing about. After I met Mel and we began the dance of the shy man’s romance–Mel’s painfully shy–I learned more about an ethical, earnest, God fearing man than I’d ever known before. I was in love after our first real date. That was when I pulled out all my old manuscripts and changed the heroes to reflect the man I was in love with. A year and a half after we first met, Mel and I were married, and we began to work together–with Mel editing and encouraging my work. I never knew passion until this man showed such enthusiastic acceptance of my words, and he didn’t know how much danger he was in–I’d never known love like this before.

The change in hero types worked. Soon after Mel and I were married and my heroes reflected his depth, multiple publishers took notice. They always say write what you know. I couldn’t have gotten published before meeting Mel, because until we met, I didn’t know what romance really was. Now, after 27 novels, I think I’ve got the character settled in my mind. I ask myself if Mel would do what I’m preparing to have my hero do, and if he wouldn’t, I change the scene.

I’m glad God gives second chances. I’m also glad He believes in true romance, strong men, and blessing His children with the true love He has for us. There can be nothing better in this life.

 

 

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Musings from the Evergreen State by Kathi Macias

As I write this I’m looking out the picture window at gray Washington skies, blanketing green trees, green ferns, green grass…well, you get the idea. Washington is known as the Evergreen State for a reason, right?

And that fact has got me to thinking about books, both from a reader’s and a writer’s perspective. There’s an old saying: Into every life a little rain must fall. Some lives seem to get a lot more rain than others, but if we can take the analogy of the Evergreen State being green because of the rain and carry it over into our lives, then maybe the rain that falls on us is a good thing, though we seldom see it that way when the heavens seem to be pouring out a deluge upon us.

I remember the very first writers’ conference I attended—as a novice, wannabe writer rather than part of the faculty—and I was stunned to hear so many of the faculty members relate the hardships they had been through and how those very hardships had drawn them closer to God and enabled them to write with more depth. I thought about that long and hard after I got home. Did I want to write with enough depth that I was willing to endure some serious hardships along the way?

And then I realized that even if I opted out of writing, I wouldn’t be guaranteed a hardship-free life. So I dove in headfirst and have never regretted it, despite the tough times that inevitably ensued. But I’ve also realized that hardships can impact our reading too. The tougher the times, the more I searched for deeper, more meaningful books to read, whether fiction or nonfiction. As a result, I’ve come to the conclusion that those times of hardship were some of the sweetest times of my life.

Whether we’re readers or writers or both, may we all be “evergreen” as we allow the storms of life to draw us closer to the One who blesses us with both sunshine and rain.

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Where Do We Get Ideas? by Elizabeth Goddard

IMG_1042Novelists often get ideas from what intrigues us.

We’re all different, so what intrigues me will be different than what catches your interest. As a novelist, I hope I find an audience—a group of people with whom my stories resonate—preferably a substantial group of people who are intrigued by the same things. More sales means I can write more books. But that’s another story.

Nature settings intrigue me most, and I usually find a place where I’d love to set a story and the novel idea (plot and characters) unfolds from there.

I’ve set novels at Crater Lake in Oregon (though the name was changed), in the Oregon high desert (Oregon Outback), and I have a three book series set in the coastal redwoods of Northern California. If I listed all my novels here you could see I favor the Pacific Northwest for settings, though I’m a Texan through and through. I lived a few years in Oregon, though, and fell in love with that region of the country.

I have a new book releasing in September that I’ve wanted to write for a while. It’s allIMG_1132 about hot-air balloons. I love balloons, and I’m enthralled with the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta. I’m so glad I had the privilege of setting a novel there, giving me a chance to write a balloon story called LOVE IN THE AIR.

So how do you feel about hot-air balloons? Do you have a balloon story to share?

What settings intrigue you?

 

LoveintheAir (506x800)Elizabeth Goddard is the award-winning author of Riptide, North Dakota Weddings and Love in the Air. You can find out more by visiting her website: http://elizabethgoddard.com

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Death by a Thousand Cuts by Maureen Lang

Okay, the title of this blog post may be a slight (no, huge) exaggeration to describe my last couple of weeks, but hey, being a writer I’m drawn to the dramatic.

It all started with my family vacation to Nashville. A lovely city, lots of history. However, we always take our vacation in early August so perhaps this wasn’t the best time of year to visit this particular location. In between rain storms (one of which cut the power at our resort for a while) the air was so thick with humidity even a Chicagoan like me had trouble breathing—and that means it had to be really bad, because Chicago has never been known for its air, at least not in a good way. Quite the contrary, since the Indian word for Chicago is somehow connected with onion – or at least the stink associated with such a thing.

However, we did manage to see some sights and had a generally good time until the last day. While I was packing up to leave, my husband went out to find a local bakery for a breakfast treat before we hit the road. That’s when things went from a not-so-memorable vacation to one that will live in infamy. I’ll start by saying I’m glad to report no one was hurt in the accident that happened. Someone pulling out from a local McDonald’s plowed right into my husband in our van. The young driver said he didn’t see him, accelerating enough upon impact to cause the entire front end of our van to end up on the road.

This was obviously the deepest cut but it set in motion a series of lesser wounds. Individually such cuts wouldn’t have hurt much, but piling one upon another has created a series of “What? What now?” reactions. Here are a few:

Police took over an hour to get to the scene of the accident; the first of many delays that eventually put us about 7 hours behind our plans.
Tow truck originally called never showed up; the one the police eventually called did.
Called several rental companies for a van to drive home. Only one place had anything remotely similar (who knew vans were so rare?) but refused to rent it to us because they were ten minutes outside of the territory.
Finally found a rental company that told us they had a van but when my husband arrived he was told they didn’t. One problem after another until we finally received a vehicle. Arrived home to try exchanging it for a cheaper car until our car could be repaired to find out not only was the vehicle rented to us not in the system, but once they found it, it was being recalled and we needed to turn it in immediately. Many other problems ensue on the paperwork end, including an extra $500 fee for turning the car in to a Chicago location and not back in Nashville (more paperwork snafoos on their part which would have been so much easier to deal with if only the people on the other end of the phone were a little nicer).
We’re finally told, more than a week after the accident, that our van was considered a total loss. Good news: we don’t have to drive back down to Nashville to pick it up. Bad news: receiving a check for the value of a five year old van won’t even cover half of what a replacement van will cost.

In between all of this, my daughter is moving from the city out to the suburbs and so I’m really missing the van that I’d planned to use to help transport boxes and other things we’d rather not have the movers handle.

Countless little annoyances and inconveniences have come up through the week, ones that would have simply rolled off of my shoulders had they not been part of a steady build. The latest of which is that we left the toll road transponder in the recalled vehicle . . .  so I’m off to try retrieving that before taking my handicapped son to a dental appointment, then I’m on to paint some trim at my daughter’s new house.

Somehow all of this would be far easier to handle if I just had some time to write.

But as I really consider all of these little cuts, I realize how inconsequential they are in the grand scheme of things. God is still God, He is still good, and one day I’ll look back on all this with a smile and say that’s just how life is sometimes.

Hope your days are better!

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What Novelists REALLY Do When You Think They’re Writing by James L. Rubart

So you want to know what novelists are doing when their novels aren’t being written?

Some friends of ours (Robin Lee Hatcher, Kristen Billerbeck, Terri Blackstock, and Angela Hunt) put this vid a few years ago, but the message remains 100% accurate. Enjoy!

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New Releases–Because You Asked

Hi, everyone.

At your request, we’re adding a new feature at Christians Read.  You asked to be notified when one of the Christians Read Authors has a new book being released, so we’re going to add that to our program.

If you join us via:

The website:  the notice will appear on the weekend in a regular post on the website.  You can also check under New Releases on the categories (right sidebar) and see all releases posted.

Email:  A notice will be emailed to you on the weekend.  You don’t have to do a thing.

Widget:  No action required.  The notice will appear on your widget on the weekend it’s posted.

Newspaper:  No notice required.  The notice will appear when posted.

Social Media:  Notices will be posted on Facebook, Twitter, and other social media sites.  So whichever is where you typically read the Christians Read posts, you’ll find the notices there.

Thank you so much for requesting this feature, and know that we sincerely appreciate your interest in our books as well as our blog posts.  We also appreciate you telling us what you want, so know that your suggestions and recommendations are always welcome.

Blessings,

CHRISTIANS READ

by Vicki Hinze

For the Christians Read Authors

 

 

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Unpublished Barbara Cartland Novels Released

 

Emails have been on several loops recently about the release of Barbara Cartland’s 160 unpublished manuscripts that will be released in paperback and as e-books. This is the paragraph most quoted by emailers:

“Cartland was one of the most prolific novelists of the 20th century, publishing 723 books before her death at the age of 97. She also left behind 160 unpublished manuscripts. The Eternal Collection will be made up of dozens of her classic romance novels, while the Pink Collection will include more than 100 of the unseen books. M-Y Books has worked with Cartland’s son Ian McCorquodale to release the new material.”

The article can be seen here:

http://www.thebookseller.com/news/unpublished-barbara-cartland-novels-released.html

I remember the first time I read one of her sweet regency romances. It was in the 1980’s. I had a husband and four children, was writing, directing the Blue Ridge Conference, working as a desk clerk at a resort (with lots of free time to write and study), and taking one Master’s Degree course at a time. My life was full. The graduate courses were tough on my brain, heavy reading, so when I had a spare moment, I wanted something light to read. I discovered Barbara Cartland books.

These were delightful stories and I didn’t have to tax my brain but just relax and enjoy. They were my escape into treating myself with light entertainment.

I began to think there should be romances written by Christians who included a faith element. I don’t know how the subject came up but that began to be discussed by the editors at Blue Ridge. David C. Cook decided to publish six Inspirational Romances and I was ready. My first was A Whole New World.

Soon afterwards, Zondervan and Thomas Nelson began published Inspirationals. I don’t know the statistics, but the popularity of inspirational romance novels is obvious. For thirty years I’ve published in several genres, but my IR’s have been published by David C. Cook, Zondervan, Thomas Nelson, Guideposts, Barbour, and now Harlequin Heartsong.

My beginning (training) for those began with my reading Barbara Cartland novels for pleasure.

One person jokingly (I assume, since she included a smiley face) said that Cartland had written about every storyline imaginable.

Probably true. But it also reminds me of a conversation I recently had with my son. I mentioned the plot of finding a letter in a secret compartment of a desk. He said, “That’s been done.”

I said, “Yes, so has everything else.”

Even a long time ago, Solomon said in the book of Ecclesiastes, “History merely repeats itself. It has all been done before. Nothing under the sun is truly new.” (1:9 – NLT)

So what hope is there for us writers?    

Every hope.

Think of all the romances, mysteries, suspense, etc. out there. Romance ends with the hero and heroine getting together in the end, but what and where and when and how and why in between their meeting and getting together is where the originality and creativity come in.

Reminds me of questions that tourists often ask about these mountains. “Do you just take them for granted since you see them every day?” The answer is, “No.” They’re different each day. With four seasons, there’s always change in the mountains, in the sky, even the time that light appears or how soon it gets dark. There’s a sameness in a way, and yet every day offers a new and difference scene.

Our stories are that way. There’s a sameness and a certain formula to writing in most genres, such as romance, mystery, suspense, etc. and yet each is different because we bring to our stories our own set of skills, originality, and creativity.

There’s room for each and all of us.

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Technology by Tara Randel

Does anyone have a love/hate relationship with technology like I do? Sure, technology gives us information at our fingertips in lightning fast fashion. We can send texts, pictures, emails from our phone. Writing a book on a computer is so much better than a typewriter. So why does it still give me a headache?

When I was younger, I could hook up a sound system to the television or music components we used at the time. I’m from the era of turntables and cassette tapes for music, VHS for television. Boy, I had all that mastered. Thought I was something. Now? A cell phone can stump me. I’m one of those people who calls my kids when I can’t figure out how to make my devices work.

I just recently got a Smartphone. I must admit, it is fairly easy to use. I can take good quality pictures, which is a great feature, and text easily. But using my fingertip to type? Yikes! I mess up more than when I used my thumbs on my slide-out keyboard. It would be funny, if it wasn’t so sad.

I do have an iPod, which I love. Music at the touch of the screen. Really, what was I waiting for? Not everyone from my generation has a tough time mastering electronics. Some of my good friends are downright scary in all they can accomplish. Thankfully, they don’t mind teaching me.

As a writer, I use technology not only to do research, but have access to computer programs that not only lets me type a manuscript and store my WIP, but also helps me plot a story or keep all my information organized and handy in one convenient place. I’m one of those who doesn’t need to know how my Word program works, I’m just happy to have it. When I’m engrossed in writing, the how and whys don’t matter, getting a completed project is the goal.

With social media such a driving force in our culture, you either learn how to use technology or you’re out of the loop. Facebook, websites and blogging are a must. The nice things is that as writers, we can use all this to get the word out about our books and keep in touch with our readers. And as an author, I love being able to communicate with readers. The give and take is so worthwhile and I get to meet some really nice people.

So while I may complain, the advances in technology have made my life easier in some ways. I keep in touch with world events during the day and know that my daughter is a text away if she needs me. But for all that, at night, I turn my phone off before I go to bed. I don’t need to hear the pings and designated sounds letting me know my attention is needed. I’d much rather read a book. Or enjoy the silence. Tomorrow, I can start all over again.

So how about you? Are you on the technology bandwagon or not?

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But I Hate Marketing by Julie Arduini

When I talk with friends who don’t write for a living, their vision is that authors sit in cushy offices, munch on gourmet chocolates, write one draft of what will become a bestseller, and the book sells just like that.

Oh, how we wish that were true.

Especially in this economy, authors are expected to be marketers. Half the battle is to write the book. The rest is letting everyone know it exists and persuading them there is a benefit for them to purchase it.

I’m not quite there, but I know how important marketing is. And like most writers, I’m introverted in nature. I don’t want to stand in a crowd let alone stand out in one. To have a voice in this loud voice that has to capture consistent attention that results in positive action from consumers? If I could pass on that, I would.

Yet as I’ve worked on crafting my first contemporary romance, I’ve also spent time building a base. Online I’ve worked hard to have a community throughout social media that I’ve engaged with so when that time comes, I can tell them I have a book out, and they will not only want to buy it, they will partner with me to tell others. That’s my hope, and right now I have a practice run in the works.

My first contemporary romance and now my second are based on the real village of Speculator, New York, in the Adirondack Mountains. This is my favorite place in the world, and where I honeymooned. The actual store in town, Charlie Johns, is what I used to base the store in my story, JB’s.

Charlie Johns had a photo contest where they were looking for the best summer Adirondack picture. I submitted a few, not knowing the process. I learned I finaled with a 12 year old picture of my then toddler playing at the beach in Speculator. The winner is determined purely by Facebook votes. The other pictures are stunning nature pictures that showcase the Adirondacks in grand style. And then there is my little dated picture of a little boy.

Spec1_editedThe winner receives a two night stay in Speculator, as well as a gift certificate to Charlie Johns or Speculator Department Store, another business I used in my story. To win, I’d be able to visit a favorite place as well as have writing inspiration. My husband admitted he’d love to return to where we honeymooned.

Right now I’m in second place. I’ve had to promote and talk about this contest, and I dread it. I feel like I’m bothering people, but I know enough to know marketing is part of the process. Although this is a photo contest, it’s also part of building my base. The more people who like the Charlie Johns page and see the pictures, the more fall in love with the area. The more people who fall in love with the area will want to know more. And my goal is to want those contest voters to become potential readers. Because I have stories to tell about their new favorite place, the Adirondacks.

So with that confession, how about I show you where to vote?

Like the page, and vote for Speculator Beach Time.

Thank you!

 

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Catching a Shy Man (aka Taming a Feral Cat) by Hannah Alexander

2012-10-24 18.01.54

 

 

The Shy Man

 

 

 

 

Being lazy by nature, I typically choose to blog about subjects of my novels. Lately, my blogs have been about small-town settings and the benefits of community. I’ve been reminded, however, that I not only set my books in small towns, but I write about romance. So my picture above is perfect: the most romantic husband in the world. One of the reasons we chose the pen name together is because Mel taught me a lot about the dance of real romance–he just doesn’t know that.

Today we celebrate the 19th anniversary of our first date alone in a car together without the aid of my closest friends scrambling to get us both to a restaurant after Sunday night service, seated together, and talking.

“Honey,” I asked, “why did it take you so long to ask me out on a real date?”

“Because I’m shy.”

“Yeah, sure you are.” My husband, an ER and family doc, has his hands and stethoscope all over multiple patients every day, sometimes six days a week.

“It’s true,” he said. “It was easier to let Bro. Ron set us up on Sunday nights with the after-church crowd.”

“You do realize you were harder to catch than those feral cats we tamed a few years ago?” I asked.

He laughed. I groaned. Dating and falling in love with a shy man takes a special skill set. One needs stamina and patience, and the ability to learn the slow dance of romance. Obviously, I did a good job. It only took a year and a half for him to figure out he loved me. It was the night he asked me to marry him.

So if you find yourself falling in love with a shy guy–or attempting to tame a starving feral mama cat and her three wild, nursing kittens–here are some tips:

1.  Stop and think–do you really want this? Because once you’ve won this worthy man’s heart (or tamed the cats) you’re in his heart forever. Get to know him and his friends, his preferences, his character. You should be sure you want to live in his life before you commit your heart. Me, I blew off that advice and sent him a card with the cow on the front, which turned out to be helpful because he’d grown up on a dairy farm. Inside the card, the inscription said, “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.” What I added was, “Don’t let my well-meaning pastor talk you into a romance you don’t want, but if you’d like a buddy to hang out with, go hiking, skip rocks, I’m here.” It worked. Taken off the hook, once he found the card buried beneath a mile-high mound of mail on his dining room table, he called me. It just so happened I wanted to attend a dinosaur exhibit at the zoo. It was a God thing, because he was the only person I knew who loved dinosaurs more than I did. Our first date lasted fourteen hours, and I gave him his buddy-hug goodnight as I fell completely in love.

2.  Remember that it really is a dance. The only dance I learned when I was growing up was the square-dance, so this didn’t work too well for me. I didn’t want to change partners, and I didn’t want him to, either. No worries there. It took him months to work up the nerve to ask me out, so I figured it would take at least that long to do the same with anyone else. However, moving in on him after that first date is not a good idea. Feral cats will move forward to drink the milk you leave out for them, but make a move at the window, and they kick away from the bowl and send the milk flying into the air. Call the man and leave a message–because he has a huge wall built around him and never answers his phone–and he’ll feel as if he’s being stalked and take an extra week to think about whether or not to call you again. I moved backward in the dance and avoided calling again.

3.  Don’t allow him to abuse you. Finally, the shy man called and asked me to attend a local gathering of German partying–the Ernte Fest. Somehow, he managed to get ahold of two ring-toss sticks, but he decided to show off some of the martial arts moves he’d learned from a buddy of his at the last hospital where he worked. “Now, watch, I’m not going to hurt you, just show you the moves.” He’d accidentally hit my leg. I’d holler. The German partiers, after too much time in the Bier Garten, watched as the dancing sticks around my legs made me dance. I promise he’d drank no beer, but he didn’t have the moves down properly, so he kept trying. On my legs. The next time he saw me, I showed him my tender memories of that night. Bruised memories. If the men from my church had seen those bruises, he’d have been out on his ear, but I took a chance and didn’t show him. He felt so badly he never got a stick close to my leg again.  As for our poor feral cats, the time came for us to get them to the vet and have them spayed–all females. We had to set up a wild trap with cat food. One by one, and sometimes by two, we caught them and hauled them into the vet’s office. The vet had to keep them fenced in, and were terrified to approach them–the wild monsters–so we loaded the cage and took the kitties home with us after the dastardly deed was done. Abusive? They probably thought so, but we couldn’t afford to care for more cats. Once we released them, they raced out into the woods near the house. The mother, however, came over to me and nudged my leg, letting me know she was glad to be back “home.” I’d won her trust despite the abuse.

4.  Don’t take advantage. On our first date, several friends told me, “Cheryl, he’s a doctor, he can afford to spend money on you, so let him. I had a different idea. Since he was the type whom people tended to take advantage of, I decided I wouldn’t. I insisted on splitting the cost of the date, even though he could have easily afforded it, and I had to struggle. I wanted him to know I wasn’t dating him for his money, or for the “prestige” of dating a doctor, but because I liked him. I saw his goodness, and wasn’t about to abuse that. He told me that he’d had a girlfriend before he met me that insisted he buy her all the best things, take her to the best restaurants, and plan to purchase the most beautiful mansion she could find. When I refused to do the same, he was impressed. Another God thing. The cats gradually began to allow us to pet them, feed them from our hands, and they loved being scratched and petted. We never pushed it too far, but they realized they could trust us.

5. Step back again in the dance. Six months after our first date, Mel and I celebrated Valentine’s Day. Mel teased me about what he’d purchased for me. He said it would lend great beauty to my life, and I would always remember him when I looked at it. Automatically, I thought, diamond ring. But I didn’t say that. Also, around the same time, he was hiking with me and put my first name and his last name together. He said it sounded good.  Being the writer I am, I sat down and wrote him a letter asking him if he meant what he was implying, that he might want to consider marriage. His answer was, he thought me might love me, but he couldn’t be sure, so he wasn’t pushing further with that thought. After the build-up I’d received, I was devastated, and told him I was going to back away for a while until he made up his mind. He was welcome to call, but we could just be buddies for awhile. I wasn’t hanging by the phone every time he called. Sometimes he couldn’t reach me at all. He began to get worried, and he tried harder to spend more time with me.  My step backward helped him realize I couldn’t be taken for granted, but he knew me well enough that he didn’t want to lose me. His turn to step forward in the dance.

6.  Pray a lot. Nothing slaps you in the face so hard as the suspicion that you could be making a bad relationship mistake. What if we weren’t meant to be together? What if God didn’t want us together? I paced my apartment and prayed until one of the friends who had set us up called me one night and repeated exactly what I had prayed, and she answered my prayer. She reassured me that Mel was moving at his own, unique speed, and I needed to accept that speed, because that was the speed we would go for the rest of our lives. God answers prayers. As for the cats, they loved us. Only one of the grown kittens refused to come to us, and unfortunately she met with a sad demise with the coyotes. To my delight, Mel drew closer and closer to me. He started calling me every night when he got off work–often quite late–and we would talk for hours. That’s not good for sleep, but it’s great for a relationship. My prayers were being answered.

7.  Let him go. Yeah, I know the old saying that if you love something, let it go. But I did. I gave Mel the freedom to be the person he wanted, and I didn’t try to change him, I simply let him know that I wasn’t going to dance to his tune always. I had my own life and I chose to hike sometimes when he visited family. I chose to spend time reading when he played ball. I learned the hard way that I wasn’t cut out for volleyball when someone on the other so-called Christian team spiked a ball straight into my face and knocked me out. That was my final game with that church team. I needed to let Mel know he could have his interests and I could have mine, and they didn’t need to line up. I think it intrigued him.

8.  Enjoy him. I finally reached the point where the dance of romance became comfortable for me. I knew Mel and I had made great strides in our friendship, and we had a future together. We blended well, though we weren’t joined at the hip. I didn’t cling, and he didn’t try to avoid me any longer. As for the cats, well, more cats came to our door, and we took them in. One of the feral kittens became a babysitter for a kitten we rescued from the huge tire of a big truck in a Walmart parking lot. Because our feral cats were wild, they never became accustomed to staying inside at night, and one by one they disappeared. Their presence in our home brought other cats, and we are presently pampering four loving animals who have known nothing with us but trust and plenty of food and water.

9.  Be true. Mel has taught me most about what I know about romance. I never had a clue before I began to understand his gentle love and tender kindness, his constant words of encouragement. He was the one, all along, who knew how to truly love. Me, I jumped from here to there in the dance, tripping us both up and trying to lead. Had I allowed Mel to lead all along, maybe it wouldn’t have been so difficult for me to learn to trust. But it was fun, anyway. Dance like you need the exercise, because you probably do.

 

 

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The Horror of Human Oppression

“Human suffering anywhere concerns men and women everywhere” (Wiesel 119). This statement rings so true to my ears. Although it is a statement found in Elie Wiesel’s acceptance speech of the Nobel Peace Prize in 1986, I first read it in the book called Night where this Jewish man’s terrifying testimony of his teen years spent in a concentration camp in Auschwitz and Buchenwald is found.  .

            Night awakens us to the horrifying indifference to the existence of human oppression in our world as it existed in past history, and unfortunately, that still remains today. It is a heart-wrenching story of survival through unspeakable human anguish resulting from the evil acts of human oppressors. The story reveals acts suffered that were designed to instill fear and strip the victims of any self esteem, morality, ethics, or hope for the future. The victims suffered humiliation, degradation, torture, starvation, and death surrounded them and stared them in their faces.

            Elie Wiesel tells the account of himself, a Jewish boy who was born into and lived in a village in Romania until the Jewish deportation when he was age fifteen. He lived what we might call a “normal” life, having a mother, father, a sibling, and friends who loved him and taught him how to love. He had warm memories of his childhood, watching his father manage and work his own business in their village, his grandfather visiting to celebrate holidays with them, and he himself immersed in studying the Talmud, and pursuing to discover the essence of divinity with a man he admired called Moishe the Beadle. Elie had dreams for his future, and imagined his life would be good.

            Elie was born in freedom and a loving environment that included grace and forgiveness, and was taught to nightlive his life with trust, morals and ethics, and to treat others with human dignity. His freedom and dignity as well as his character was stripped from him little by little – beginning with the edicts in the ghettos that were first formed when the Germans came into their village, then the Hungarian police bursting into their homes, taking their valuables and putting edicts in place, and next, the horrible journey on the cattle cars to an unknown destiny, followed by the humiliation and terror of the concentration camps. It is interesting that although chaos and fear ensued when the ghettos were first formed and the Jews were first fenced in, they soon accepted this life as “normal.” Elie says that the ghettos were not ruled by the Germans or the Jews, but by delusion (Wiesel 12). The warnings and signs that came to the village at Sighet were ignored by the Jewish adults until it was too late resulting in Elie being forced against his will on a journey that led to hell on earth until the day he was finally freed. Wiesel’s testimony of life in the camps is a loud message that we must never allow this horror to happen again. I highly recommend this book to everyone. It will change your life.

            After finishing Night, I began to think about my life today and the freedom I have had the opportunity to live and grow in. I am so thankful I have never had to experience such horror. Yet, although the comparison may not be an equal one, I realized that many freedoms have been slowly disappearing from the citizens of our country. Have we become complacent, ignoring the signs of where our leaders are taking us? I pray that we as Americans will pray to stay alert to the warning signs and take the necessary actions needed to protect ourselves against unjust measures others may take and their attempts to instill fear in us so that they can control our lives. May we not become complacent; and may God help us to remain alert and give us wisdom today and in the days set before us.

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Sharing Our Stories by Lynette Sowell

2013-07-28 21.26.44-1We made a very important and momentous trip a little more than one week ago. No fanfare and media frenzy, unlike what happened outside a London hospital not long before. Just a simple trip, three ladies in a bright-red extended-cab pickup truck.

My little granddaughter, two days old, was making a 15-mile journey from the hospital to her home.

Since Grandpa and Daddy were both working that morning, my daughter and I had the honor of taking Little Sugardrop on her very first truck ride, in what we call “Clifford the Big Red Truck.” Clifford has taken on a personality of his own, but that’s another story for another day, perhaps.

Cliffy roared past our city limits sign, and I realized something important: Little Sugardrop had arrived in her hometown for the very first time since being toted around inside her mother’s tummy.

So, like any good grandma, I began telling stories.

We passed the large market where my husband cooks in the cafe’ and my daughter demonstrates recipes and gives samples to customers.

“Look, there’s where Grandpa works, and Mommy, too,” I told her. “Grandpa cooks lots of chickens on the grill for people, and they love his food. Mommy gets to share food and recipes, too. She’s a great cook like Grandpa.” (Why is it we talk to babies as if they understand exactly what we’re telling them?)

We passed a Chinese restaurant. “And there’s where your mommy, daddy, and grandma and grandpa had their last double date before you arrived. We were celebrating because Grandpa passed his course. We were so excited for him.”

Then we passed our credit union. “There’s where we keep our money, and where they know us. I think you’re too little to get a sucker, so we won’t stop there today.”

We passed my son-in-law’s place of work. “There’s where Daddy is right now. He can hardly wait to see you when he gets home. He will give you lots of cuddles and kisses.”

When we’re involved in the life of a child, we have that precious chance of seeing things again for the first time. I’m looking forward to many, many special firsts with Little Sugardrop.

Of opening those pages of well-loved books, the contagious rhymes and life lessons of Dr. Seuss.

Of jumping into well-worn pages, and going through a wardrobe door into the land of Narnia.

Of crossing the plains of Kansas in a covered wagon with Mary and Laura.

Of one day, hearing her little voice read, “’In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void.‘ What does void mean, Grandma?”

Yes, it’s going to be a wonderful time to pass on stories.

I can’t wait to share with her the best ones, and I can’t wait to see which ones she discovers for herself.

– – – – –

Lynette Sowell writes fiction for the inspirational market, from contemporary romance to mysteries. She’s always looking for the perfect recipe for a story–or a great dish–and is always up for a Texas road trip.

Posted in Honored Alumni, Lynette Sowell, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments