Author Archives: The Tuesday Prude

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About The Tuesday Prude

I always told my husband I fell in love with him before I know his last name. Good thing, too. I'm beginning to enjoy my unusual and sturdy married name. Klumpers are almost as rare as prudes. However, in an effort to make it a more common household name I bore 3 sons, all Klumpers, and a recent Klumpers grandson has been added to the lists. In an effort to make prudishness a more common household virtue, I have created this blog.

Analysis of a Small Grief

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Please note: the below is in no way intended to address Grief. Capital G Grief is the loss of loved one, nation, freedom, innocence or hope. I haven’t the wisdom or the words on how Grief should be dealt with. Here, I attempt to deal with my sadness at the loss of my dog in the way I deal with most things—by a plethora of words.

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This grief doesn’t feel small. It feels as though a wad of steel wool has wrapped around my insides and rubbed it raw. I realize losing my little bundle of mixed breeds-and-affection doesn’t rival heart-wrenching, life-changing losses. If I could just convince my aching innards.

I’ve learned that when I analyze a headache or a stubbed toe or an unreachable itch, dissect it, and examine its texture and consistency and quality, my mind is detracted from the hurt. Maybe it works on heartache.
The loss is still fresh but initial probing led me to a few conclusions:

Our bodies don’t always know the difference between grief and Grief.
The physical manifestation of sadness is not necessarily in proportion to the magnitude of the loss. It just hurts. When I hit my crazy bone or mash a vulnerable toe on a rock, my body screams with more pain than it might in the throes of a deadly stroke. My shrieking nerve endings need my brain to assure them, “It’s just a stubbed toe. Just a whacked elbow. The pain will pass.”

This sadness is physical. It clutches my heart and knots my stomach and gray-washes everything I see. My intellect needs to get involved and reason with the rest of me. I don’t want to stay this sad.

My head knows not to bother telling my heart, “Well, at least it wasn’t my ____(fill in the blank)”
We aren’t given a multiple choice of loss, or the guarantee that if we choose the lesser, the greater won’t happen.
My mind won’t play the “Just think how _____ (fill in the blank) is suffering” game. Someone always, always hurts worse. Based on that reasoning no one should be sad ever.
And my heavy heart would kick my intellect to the curb if it said “Honestly. It was just a dog.”
No. When the steel wool starts to ravel my stomach and heart and shoves the whole mess up in my throat I need to assure myself, “She was a wonderful dog. When you took her home ten years ago you knew this day would come. You weighed the cost and decided the joy was worth the pain. And it won’t always hurt this much.”

Our grief, with just a little cooperation, can be infinitely self-perpetuating.
I’ve gone whole portions of an hour these past days not actively mourning the loss of my little mutt. Then I’ll deliberately pull out a memory—Bonny running, Bonny dozing, Bonny begging us to make the thunder STOP—and everything from gut to throat constricts, except my tear ducts.These aren’t those memories and associations, aromas or songs, that ambush the grieving one. I’m talking about intentionally choosing a mental picture of my dog and keeping the eyes of my heart on it until I’m weeping.

As of this writing it’s been less than 80 hours since we took her for that final trip to the vet. So how do I know the grief has potential to continually feed itself? Experience. I can dig several layers down into my grief vault and pull up tears for Troubles, my beagle who went to her just reward over thirty years ago. It is up to me to decide how often I open that storehouse of pain. Bonny is worth the tears, but neither of us is served by a continual and premeditated sorrowing.
Grief needs to allow room for comforting.
Comfort, we all know, isn’t a cure. It doesn’t reverse time or eradicate the loss, so we may reject the sympathizing word and empathetic touch. But the comfort of kind people does help, if allowed. It’s when grief says, “You don’t understand how much I loved this little pup.” or “Easy for you to say. You aren’t an animal lover.” or, most churlish, “You just don’t feel things as deeply as I do.” —that is when weeping refuses to be consoled. Comfort, in its many manifestations, is the most gentle of buffers, soothing and smoothing the thousand million jagged edges of grief with solace and compassion.
Grief has its reversal in heaven.
Two dogs ago (why do I keep doing this to myself?) when we had to put Polly to sleep, I decided there must be dogs in heaven. Not generic dogs. Not new-creation dogs. But my dog. Polly had to be there. I’m still hoping all dogs, even the yapping, drooling, nasty little ankle-biter around the corner, will be in heaven. But I can’t say for certain. It isn’t something God specifically addresses.
Instead, I know something even better. When I see my Savior face to face, the Word who spoke creation into being, I will see the source of worlds and all beauty and every creature He ever gave life to. The eye that sees the sparrow fall sees the little white dog who became too frail to support life. This is the Almighty we are talking about, who never forgets, never looks at anything without seeing and knowing full well and fully and for always.

The One who designed Bonny’s scruffy, vibrant little frame lives forever and anyone I’ve ever lost lives forever in His love and in His eyes.

A Texas Belle on her toes

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Texans are fascinating folks (and they would probably agree). Since I don’t know many Lone Star State folks, and have only been there twice, I asked author Gay Lewis, a Texas lover if there ever was one, to  tell us more about best places to visit, the people, the FOOD and if there could possibly be any imperfections in her favorite state.

If you aren’t familiar with Gay, she has written several fantasy novels about a klutzy angel who fulfills her duties as matchmaker with greater enthusiasm than skill. (Read more about Gay and Sarah in the bio at the end of the interview.) Recently Gay successfully tried her hand at a more serious topic—the destructive power of words—in the novella ‘Clue Into Kindness,’ the second book in the ‘Love Is’ series by Prism Book Group.

Clue into Kindness once more

Gay is going to whet your appetite for Texas. Let’s make her really nervous and tell her we’ll all drop in on her next week. Naw, that wouldn’t scare a true Texan like Gay. Would it?

Gay

What is your favorite book? (After the Bible 🙂

Hmm? I have many (some I’ve written myself) Giggle, giggle. Besides my Sarah books, I confess to reading often Love Comes Softly by Jeanette Oke. It’s a quick read and it lifts my spirits. I’ve seen the Hallmark movie many times too. Note: ‘Clue Into Kindness’ is available as an ebook, AND in print, bundled with two other novellas in a book titled ‘Love Is Anthology No. 1.’

Who is your favorite author?

Poopty doopty! How can I answer that one? I have several. All Prism Book Group authors present wonderful books, and I constantly have one of their books on my iPad. I also enjoy Janet Evanovich for humor and Dean Koontz for fantasy and suspense.

Where is the most beautiful spot in Texas in the spring?

Oh my! There you go again with another thinker. I love the Texas Hill Country for the rolling hills and multitudes of Bluebonnets. Washington County, north of Brenham, TX has beautiful scenic vistas too.
I show up on your doorstep, hoping for a Texas-style meal. What is on the menu?

Hahahah. I’m laughing hard on this one. The first thing we’d do after I gave you a giant, Texas hug would be to get into the car and drive to the nearest restaurant. My cooking would not give you a true taste of a Texas meal. Chef Gay is not one of my titles. I wish you could have eaten at my mom’s table. She prepared the best chicken fried steak, gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans and banana pudding—bar none. Chicken and Dumplings with homemade fried pies were my favorite dishes at her table. But back to me….I’d take you to the nearest Tex-Mex food hang-out for a sizzling plate of cheese enchiladas.
You get to crown ‘Best Famous Texan (Dead or Alive)’ Who do you choose and why?

Sam Houston. That guy was amazing. He was born in Virginia, but arrived in Texas in time to help Texas gain independence from Mexico. Can you imagine the time it took to travel this enormous state of Texas on horseback? He held several political offices: President of the Republic of Texas, and later as Governor and Senator. He was tall, handsome, and a favorite of the ladies.

What do you love most about Texas?
I enjoy the people. Most of us are friendly and helpful. If I meet someone who isn’t, I know they weren’t born and bred in Texas, but if they stay here long enough, we rub off on ‘em.

Least? I hate the Texas heat. Winters in Houston are mild and lovely, but the summers? Yuk. If I had money in my pocket, I’d spend four months of the year in Colorado. When April arrives, I get sad. Heat comes with it. October brings a happier time for me. I know the worst is over.

Let’s assume I am a first-time visitor to Texas. I only have time to visit three places, and want to try at least one ‘off the beaten track’ spot. 
Which three will you bring me to?

Merciful heavens! That’s a tough one. Let’s see. Okay, here’s what I’d do.
I’d take you on a tour of the Painted Churches. Most of these churches were established by Germans immigrants. They modeled small churches after the one they left behind in the mother country. They didn’t have marble, gold or silver to use, so they painted the interiors to resemble finer materials and elements. Many have stained glass and art work.
After the church tour, I’d take you to San Antonio for a quick look at the Alamo and then we’d explore the River Walk by boat.
You want an out of the way place? I’ve got one for you. I’d take you to our little cabin in the Lost Pine area of Texas. Here you find the “boonies.” We have a rustic place in the middle of a forest. If you want to see people, you must drive twelve miles. Come on down! I’d love to have you visit.

Where would you tell me to avoid because it doesn’t live up to the tourist hype?
The Houston Galleria. Most tourists go there, but it is merely a glorified mall with over-priced shops.

What word or words are distinctly Texan?
Fixin.’ We’re always fixin’ to do something. “Hey, ya’ll, I’m fixin’ to fix supper.” Fixin’ means we are thinking about it or preparing to do it.

Describe the characteristics that make true Texans so unique.

Thanks for thinking we are unique. I think we are rather ordinary, but we are friendly, and we love to make you feel welcome. We probably brag too much, and we’re known for Stetson hats, cowboy boots, and pretty ladies. Most women down here wear a lot of makeup, me included—and I wouldn’t let you see me without it. I’ve been in Canada several times and strangers guess me to be from Texas, and that’s even before they hear me talk! I suppose our accent is another one of our characteristics.

You’ve been on a book tour around the world for four months. You hear a certain song and immediately it makes you homesick for Texas. What is that song?
“The Eyes of Texas.” This one would bring a tear, but if I heard the “Yellow Rose of Texas,” or “Deep in the Heart of Texas,” I’d, smile, sing along and tap my toes.

What is the second best state after Texas?
Colorado.
Finally, if you’d like, tell us why you love Texas and convince the readers that they will too

Stars above in the Galaxies! Now that question requires some thought. As much as I hate heat, I’m thankful we don’t shovel snow in Houston. Texans do in northern parts of the state, but not as often or as much as people north of our great state. Do you like diversity? You’ll find it in Texas. From the Cowboy to the businessman. Our economy is booming right now in spite of low oil prices. Our cities are cosmopolitan. In the county where I live, over eighty languages are spoken in the home. In our little church, we have English, Spanish, and Chinese speakers. I don’t need to travel far to experience other cultures. I can listen to them and enjoy native food in a multitude of international restaurants.
Texas has a bounty of natural beauty—from the Chisos Mountains in Big Bend, the plains of west Texas. You’ll find the Hill Country inspirational, serene lakes, rivers, and don’t forget the architectural glamour of large cities. Whatever you need, you’ll find it here. I once told my dad that I was thankful God placed him in America and then he had the good sense to see that I was born in Texas.

Thank you for an interesting bunch of questions. (Another Texas word—bunch—we do a bunch of things down here.) I’ve enjoyed thinking about them, and you’ve made me giggle a time or two.

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See why I like this woman? Truly, some day I’d love to meet Gay. She is delightful and gracious, and a true lady. Want to know more about her? I thought so. Read on!

Gay N. Lewis
A native Texan, Gay lives in Fulshear—a small town west of Houston. Gay has always been involved with creative and artistic ventures. Two videos she produced—The Canadian Rockies, English and Japanese translations, and Psalms from the Mountains, were sold in Canada, America, Great Britain, as well as all international markets. Both were well received. For the San Felipe Baptist Association, she was a contributor for the video Many Churches, One Vision.
Graphic skills kept her busy as a portrait photographer, and for over ten years, she used her imaginative insight in the interior design field.
Gay’s real love is writing and reading—both go nicely together. As a pastor’s wife, she has written, produced, and photographed many programs, and her Faith Features have been published in various church periodicals. Her current series is about a dyslexic angel who comes to earth to help the humans, but she is more like Lucy Ricardo with humorous antics and bumbles. To date, there are ten books in the series. The books are available in print, eBook, and audio. She’s under contract for three more Sarah books to go with the ten. The latest addition to hit the market on June 12, 2015
Teaching an adult Bible study every Sunday morning is Gay’s joy, and she is often called upon for speaking engagements. When needed, she plays the piano and serves as worship leader in her husband’s church in Rosenberg.
Gay’s family reside in Texas—three daughters and four grandchildren.
Take a glance at the covers and read the blurbs on Prism Book Group.
http://prismbookgroup.com/angels
For more information, please go to http ://gaynlewis.com/
Read excerpts on www.prismbookgroup.com
Gay would love to have you see her video trailers and become a follower of her blog.
http://www.gaynlewis.blogspot.com
https://www.amazon.com/author/gaynlewis
www.facebook.com/GayNLewis and also on Twitter @GayNLewis2.
Sarah has her own Facebook page. Follow Sarah on Facebook@ Sarah Wingspand

The Devastation of Light

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God created light and it was good.
Until it shines on my dining room chairs and shows the dust I didn’t notice when the room was dim.

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Some might argue that this just demonstrates the essential goodness of light. It exposes uncleanness.
Have pity. I am much too busy to dust my chairs.
A little dust never hurt anyone.
The dust cloth makes my hands feel funny.
And in a few hours the sun will move away and leave me and my dust in happy ignorance of each other. Till tomorrow.

Another complaint about light.
These lovely spring lights. See how they glow in the dark?

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But that attention-grabbing sun with its ‘I can shine brighter than you’ beams all but
obliterates my pretty little pastels. You can’t even tell the bulbs are lit where the light hits them.

Light claims all glory for itself. Shine in the darkness, I’m told. Oh, sure. But the greater light, the I Am light, gets the glory while my tiny glow is virtually unnoticed.

Pitiless Light doesn’t let me sit at the foot of the cross in darkness, wallowing in tears and  ‘I knew this was too good to be true’ wailings.
It bursts out of an empty tomb and beckons me gleefully. “Arise! Shine! Your light has come! God’s face is shining on you! The day is at hand so cast off the deeds of darkness!”

I loiter in the shadowlands, weeping.
No, I know that sin has won. Might as well remain clinging to it.
Reluctant to move, because I also know the Light is merciless.
Oh, the dust I have accumulated! It will all be seen!
My feeble attempts at luminescence? Swallowed up in the devastation of the totality of Light.

Who knew Light had knowledge, and tenderness, and mercy? Who knew Light first shines on my dusty, dried-up frame, then outshines my feeble attempts to light my own way, and finally burns away the sin and separation and love of all that is dim and despairing? It grabs hold of my hand and drags me into its searing warmth and cleansing fire. What can I do? Light wins, and I learn, to my shock, that so do I.
“Because I have sinned against him, I will bear the LORD’s wrath, until he pleads my case and establishes my right. He will bring me out into the light; I will see his righteousness.”
Micah said it first but I am right there with him—half a syllable behind but heartfelt and grateful for lessons in spring lights and sermons in dusty dining room chairs.

Already. Not Yet.

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My pastor is fond of the phrase ‘already, not yet.’
We’re new creations in Christ already, but bits of the old man’s skin  cling to us. Sometimes entire swatches haven’t yet shed. Oh wretched people we are. Just when we think we have this Christian life figured out we get slapped upside the head with God’s requirements and see how short we fall. Not perfect yet.

Christ already came, bringing His Kingdom. But not every citizen of the Kingdom has been gathered in. Not yet.

Heaven is already ours. But we’re not there yet. We’re still in the messy, contentious, polluted, violent world that, unlike the one to come, is filled with war and death and tears. Lots and lots of tears.

Speaking of not yet: ever notice how warty the body of Christ is? Sure, the church is already the bride, already hands and feet etc. But does it look lovely and pure and fully functional?
Not yet.

Since the ‘already’ doesn’t look nearly as good as the ‘not yet,’ hope can by mighty hard to come by.
Another day hearing about hatred and its Pandora’s Box of evil deeds, another season seeing the earth we’re supposed to steward laid waste,
another Sunday wondering why we didn’t get to choose who would be our siblings in Christ because this bunch ain’t cutting it.
Another nightfall of self-examination and muttering over the ugliness in our hearts that refuses to heed the eviction notice.

Seems like hope for the ‘not yet’ is too much to hope for.

I live in the land of four seasons. Six months of winter coming, staying, and leaving, almost-three months of mosquito-spawning humidity, and the four remaining months divided haphazardly between autumn and spring.

March is an odd month in Four Seasons Land. Technically spring begins toward its end. March displays flashes of fine-weather promise interspersed with dour skies and spiteful snowfalls. After beguiling us with a glimpse of bare earth and its awakening aroma, songs of birds returned to the hearty climate, the feel of balm on one’s skin instead of ice, March retreats to do what it does best. It disappoints.

We get discouraged. We think we cannot hang on one. More. Day. Spring has to come or we will go absolutely, spectacularly mad. Underneath the gnawing need for spring to appear right this minute though, is the realization that it is closer than it was last month, last December, yesterday.

With no definitive glimpse into the mind of God, I still speculate if March is one way He chooses to help us comprehend the not-yet-edness of our existence. The landfill a few miles from my house grows by the day. Birds still see fit to nest along the top. My siblings in the body of Christ squabble one minute, rally round each other in deeds and prayer the next. We are family you know. Against all earthly odds Christ has sustained and nourished this body for two thousand years.

I went to bed last night more aware than ever of the hopelessness of my sin nature.
I woke up this morning more aware of, more humbled by, and more exhilarated because of grace. The Kingdom is nearer at hand now than it was yesterday.

It may not be spring yet, but the robins are already singing outside my window.

Prude-Approved Reads: Greener Grasses

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The Seven Deadly Sins draw boos and hisses from prudes. We hold them in greater derision than shoddy sentence construction and low-hanging pants and line-jumping. (This, of course, is wise, because God quite explicitly orders us not to engage in these evils, while uttering not a word against lazy syntax, baggy jeans or taking cuts.) Right on the cover, Greener Grasses states, ‘Love Does Not Envy,’ so of course I am hooked before I open it. And sure enough, the author proves, in the course of the story, that she also heartily disapproves of envy.

Greener Grasses is the third book in a series of novellas based on the I Corinthians 13 ‘Love is…’ descriptions. In this story about jealousy eating the heart out of the relationship between twins Erin and Ellen, author Julie Cosgrove hops from one sister’s resentful head to the other. This point-of-view switching is a no-no for novice writers and prudes pride themselves at following rules. But rules are loosened when a skillful and experienced writer like Ms. Cosgrove tackles alternating perspectives, which she does with panache.

There’s plenty to approve of in this smooth, moving story as Julie addresses the misconceptions envy creates. Does wealth relieve the stress of marriage and parenthood? Not necessarily. Well then, poor-but-happy must be the ticket to wedded bliss. Not a guarantee. If only my life was like hers, everything would be better, right? Negative.
Are mothers of grown children very, very wise? ABSOLUTELY.

As you read further—and please read further–you’ll get to know Julie, learn that she likes my favorite author and adverbs (she is a woman of taste and discernment) and find links to learn more about this admirable book. All in one post. And I’m guessing by the time you get through all that you’ll find that you want to read Greener Grasses. You won’t be disappointed!

Here is Julie:

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Her book:

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And a bit about her:

I was born in San Antonio but spent my summers at my family’s cabin (yes it really was a cabin with a screened in porch and outhouse) in the Texas Hill Country overlooking the Guadalupe River. So I was both a city mouse and a country mouse. Built in 1923, my siblings and I are in the process of “modernizing” it, complete with new kitchen and new bathroom, without it looking modern. Quite an undertaking.

I graduated from college and was awarded the Religion Major of the Year Award by the American Bible Society, which landed me in seminary. Then life happened.
But even being a working mom and volunteering in my church, the desire to tell others of Christ’s love through speaking and writing never left me. Now widowed at a fairly early age with only two cats to serve and having a grown child off on his own, God has led me back to that – I lead women’s retreats and workshops and write.

Her website
and her blog and—goodness, she is everywhere, isn’t she?
http://www.juliebcosgrove.com
blog: Where Did You Find God Today?
Twitter@JulieBCosgrove, LinkedIn, Facebook

And video-blurb
Video http://bit.ly/1OnwOvN

And the all-important link to Greener Grasses on Amazon
–http://amzn.to/1ZBNesJ

Julie tells why she wants to write:

Is it over simplistic to say because God has called me to do so? I began as a thank you to Him for finding me freelance writing contracts to support me in my widowhood. I tithed my writing day to Him first each morning. I believe He has honored that. Now I write not only fiction but devotionals for seven publications and websites, many of them since 2009. I feel in my element and the happiest when I am writing. It is addictive!

And now answers some pressing and some piddling questions:

What book made the biggest impact on your life?
Probably Hush in the Storm (one of Julie’s earlier books) because it opened the door to writing for Prism Book Group. I just signed my ninth contract with them. I still recall blubbering on my sofa holding my cell phone and reading the acceptance letter again and again to make sure it was real. My son came in and thought someone had died!

Why were you given your particular name?
I was supposed to be born in July, thus Julie. However, I came the end of May. I am glad my parents didn’t change their mind and name me for that month. I just don’t look like a “May” or “Mae.”

If you had to change your first name, what would you change it to?

Christina Ann. She was the heroine in one of the first suspense romance novels I read – The Ivy Tree by late Mary Stewart. She got me hooked on that genre. I read all of her novels, including the Merlin trilogy.
You’ve been writing all day. You don’t want to cook. You do want to get out of the house. Do you get pizza, burgers or Chinese?
None of the above- Tex-Mex!

What is your favorite sport?
I am not a sporty person…does floating in the river count? Seriously, I have always been a swimmer and also performed synchronized swimming, a.k.a. water ballet, in high school and college.

What is your favorite kind of music?
Contemporary Christian and Chamber Music.

What is your favorite song? Do I honestly have to choose?
I guess In Christ Alone or Stay Strong by the Newsboys. Toss up.

Would you rather be an Irish line dancer, a hula dancer, a clogger or a cabaret dancer?
Oh, definitely Irish jigs! It is part of my heritage, me lassie.

What three items would you take if you knew you were going to stranded on a tropical island for a year? (FYI: It has fresh water and plenty for you to eat and a flush toilet)
Then toilet paper, definitely. My tablet with an external battery because it has at least twenty books downloaded I have yet to read as well as my favorite Bible version on it, and sunscreen…lots of sunscreen.

You get to be any household item you want in Disney’s ‘Beauty and the Beast.’ What do you choose?
I liked the clock character, don’t know why.

Cooking, baking, or for pete’s sake can we please eat out?
Eat out.

Which would you prefer as a second home: Mountain cabin, beach house or big city condo?
Um, the cabin. That is a given. It still is my second home and where I always “feel” closer to God.

If you could witness any event past, present or future, what would it be?
The moment Jesus entered the Upper Room after His resurrection.
If you could learn any new skill, what would it be?
Paint- walls, canvases, whatever. I’m the only one in my family who can’t draw a straight line. Missed out on the artistic gene. So to compensate, I paint with words.

You are offered a huge contract to write a ‘How To’ book on your area of expertise. What would it be about?
Squeeze More God-time Into Your Day. Oh, wait I wrote that! Now I just need a big contract for the second edition.

What is one of your favorite quotes?
Age is mind over matter: if you don’t mind, what does it matter? People who live that out seem happier.

You can choose any author you want, living or dead (well, they wouldn’t be dead when you met them), to be your writing coach, who would it be?
Mary Stewart. (NOTE: SHE IS THE TUESDAY PRUDE’S FAVORITE TOO!!!!!)
What chore do you absolutely hate doing?
Laundry. My machines are so needy. They are always beep at me right when I am in the middle of something else.

What is your favorite form of exercise?
Swimming.

How do you manage stress?
Prayer- tears – prayer.

How do you feel about adverbs?
They are legit English words. Let’s have an “ly” revolution!!! Seriously? (NOTE: BLESS HER. ADVERB-LOVERS OF THE WORLD UNITE! IMMEDIATELY!)

Do you personally find yawning contagious?
Thought that was proven.

Where do you write?
At my desk which is in a niche next to my fireplace in my living room. I live in a one bedroom apartment and hated having my computer in my bedroom. All those little lights kept me awake, and especially when my cats would jump up and awaken my keyboard, which awakens my two monitors- arrgg.

Music or silence while you write?
Silence.
Classical music when I edit.

Skittles or M&M’s or…carrot sticks while you write?
Popcorn, actually, maybe with a few M&M’s mixed in…hmmm.

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Thanks to Julie for spending precious time answering these questions, thanks to you readers for getting to know her better. I know you’ll enjoy Greener Grasses.

Big sisters are always right

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When my older sister (or my much older sister, as I like to call her when I think she needs to be taken down a peg or two) was born, she got every single ‘ability to organize’ gene from our mother. By the time my younger (not all that much younger) sister came along, some of those depleted  genes might have built back up and passed to her.
Sadly, instead of the gene that helps me sort and collate and coordinate and prioritize, I got an extra several thousand molecules of ‘just read a book and drink coffee.’

So when Older Sister pointed out that my blog is called ‘The Tuesday Prude’ but my sporadic posts are often on any day but Tuesday, I put down my book, took a fortifying swig of coffee, and explained:
“‘Tuesday Prude’ was chosen because I like the way it sounds.”
Such a delightful internal assonance. And I had great intentions of posting every Tuesday. Just like this morning I had great intentions of beginning a paleo lifestyle. Once the loaf of bread is gone.
For some inexplicable reason, Tuesdays are SO HARD for me.

But, because Older Sister is usually right, and because I’m taking cues from the open and transparent and forthright political climate,
I’m turning over a new leaf, and posting on a Tuesday.
(Remember though, in this political climate, new leaves only last a week.)

Here is an old poem from an old book of my dad’s, that my youngest son had newly bound for my Christmas present. I like this poem. Poets always talk of geese leaving in the fall. But here in my neighborhood they are back, and clamoring in excitement over the marsh’s receding ice-line.
I’m squawking and flapping right along with them.

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Wild Goose in Spring

Wild Geese
Robert P. Tristram Coffin

Beauty is coming north again
Slanting eager as the rain;
With necks like arrows on a bow
Across the sky the wild geese go.

Beauty is coming moulded by
High winds of the upper sky
Into shapes that burn to be
In a patterned symmetry.

Loveliness comes like a host
Of lean ships headed for a coast,
Every sail and every keel
Pointed at a common weal.

Comeliness in company,
Every wing where it should be,
Their feathers are communal things,
They help each other with their wings.

Prude-Approved Reads: Salsa and Speed Bumps

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‘Prude-Approved Reads’ brings you Salsa and Speed Bumps by Susan Baganz, who also happens to be my editor at Prism Books. I like to think of her as my ‘very own personal editor’ and my nose gets slightly out of joint when I remember I have to share her with several other authors.

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Don’t you love when old sayings are so marvelously right?
For instance, you know fools rush in where angels fear to tread so you refuse to get involved in a facebook spat between your friends arguing who will save America—Bernie or The Donald.

Say you drop a spoon. You know from wisdom passed down through the generations this means company is coming. So you clean like crazy and then your neighbor comes over to bring a piece of your junk mail that got in their mailbox by accident and you grab them by the arm and drag them in for coffee because you dropped a spoon and now your house looks fabulous.

Stephanie and Roberto in Salsa and Speed Bumps probably wish the saying ‘Troubles never come singly,’ or the more colorful ‘When it rains it pours,’ had no basis in fact.
Because the story starts with her pregnant by date rape and him suffering from chronic pain and things just complicate from there.

Am I making this book sound like a tragedy? It isn’t. For one thing (spoiler alert) it ends with hope and a very plausible degree of happiness. Troubles pile up for the couple and while it some may think it pushes against the boundaries of the believable, Susan stops well short of caricature. We all know people who crawl from under one calamity only to have another one hit (debunking ‘lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place’).

You’ll meet Susan in a little bit, but she knows her stuff when it comes to women in crisis and people enduring round after round of heartache. She’s known women like Stephanie, who suffer disproportionate consequences for saying ‘no’ to a man.

Here at The Tuesday Prude things are usually kept light, but a recent tragedy only a few miles from my peaceful village has me thinking about the high price some women pay in relationships. A cashier at a local grocery store committed the crime of treating a co-worker with kindness. When she refused to become more involved with him, the man retaliated. He killed her as she left work.

I only wish the young woman had the same outcome as Stephanie. Salsa and Speed Bumps pulls us, ruthlessly at times, through a story crammed with a vengeful ex-boyfriend, drug addiction, family betrayal and racial prejudice. And high blood pressure. Countering the misery is life and forgiveness and grace. With so much wretchedness in our world, it did my heart good to read about love triumphing over evil.

Susan warned me that this book has a bit more spice to the romance than Pesto and Potholes, her previous book in the Orchard Hill series. But the romantic spice was sort of between a pablano pepper and a jalapeño, nowhere NEAR a habanero.

Salsa and Speed Bumps is a prude-approved read, in spite of some difficult glimpses into the evil men can do and the stresses that even a committed married couple can experience. Sometimes a prude has to move out of her comfortable, mild yellow-bell-pepper zone. Because, as the old saying goes, better late than never.

Baganz 0524 Edited color

Meet Susan:
Susan M. Baganz chases after three Hobbits and is a native of Wisconsin. She is an Acquisitions Editor with Prism Book Group specializing in bringing great romance novels and novellas to publication. Susan writes adventurous historical and contemporary romances with a biblical world-view.
Susan speaks, teaches, and encourages others to follow God in being all He has created them to be. With her seminary degree in counseling psychology, a background in the field of mental health, and years serving in church ministry, she understands the complexities and pain of life as well as its craziness. She serves behind-the-scenes in various capacities at her church. Her favorite pastimes are lazy ones—snuggling with her dog while reading a good book, or sitting with a friend chatting over a cup of spiced chai latte.
You can learn more by following her blog www.susanbaganz.com, her twitter feed @susanbaganz or her fan page, www.facebook.com/susanmbaganz/me

Little-known facts about Susan:

What book had the biggest influence on your life?
I’d have to say the Bible. It has opened my eyes to deception, convicted me, comforted me, challenged me . . . and continues to do so as I keep reading it. I try reading at times in different versions to make familiar passages new again—so I don’t skim over them. Outside of that, no other book has come close to having that kind of impact on me and at such a depth.

Why where you given your particular name? If you had to change your first name what would you change it to?
Susan was popular around the time I was born. I always wished I had been named Stephanie. My parents said they had considered that but feared I would be called Stevie and didn’t like that. At this point, since I’ve been Susan for more than half of my life (I went by Sue up till I graduated high school and then decided I wanted to use my full name to sound more adult. Ha! Doesn’t mean I act like it!). I still respond to Sue or Suz but only my Aunt Mary gets away with calling me Suzy.
Because I love the name so much is why gave my main character that name. Initially she had a different name (in Pesto & Potholes) but I eventually realized that Renata, Rachel and Roberto were too many “R’s” in a story. I kept mixing up my girls! So Rachel became Stephanie during one of Pesto’s many revisions and obviously Salsa’s.

You’ve been writing all day. You don’t want to cook. You do want to get out of the house. Do you get pizza, burgers or Chinese?
I rarely have the money for takeout so my kids often get frozen pizza or mac’n cheese. I love Chinese but rarely get take out—my characters often do though. Fortune cookies are so much fun to write! But if I’m really hungry and out and about and don’t want to cook? If I’m in a huge rush I will actually go Mexican! Taco Bell. I know, how sad is that? But if I have the time (and a little more money) Q’doba is my place to be. I love their naked burritos (steak queso with white rice, lima beans, regular and verde salsa AND cheese and sour cream – but no chips). Yum. Now my mouth is watering . . .

Your favorite sport is—
Is reading a sport? No? Bummer. To watch? I really am not into sports and neither are my kids. I love to watch ice-dancing, or dancing (Dancing with the Stars anyone?). Figure skating . . . To play it used to be volleyball. Now I have had too many health issues that make that not good thing for me to participate in. Bummer. In the sand is especially fun. I’m not good at it but if you want to be silly, and don’t care if you win, I’m your player.

How about favorite kind of music?
I love music. I wanted to be a disc jockey when I grew up. I love to talk and enjoy music so what better place for me to be? I also wanted to be a singer. Did that for a short time in the Milwaukee area.
I’m pretty eclectic in my tastes. I listen to classical when I write my Regency fiction. I also enjoy acapella, I love some swing and do-wop. Favorite artists would be: Rich Mullins, Billy Joel, 33 Miles, Burlap to Cashmere, David Meece, Newsboys (older stuff – it has some wit to the lyrics!), Jason Grey, Brian Duncan, Huey Lewis and the News (big band sound! I used to play saxophone). I lean towards more acoustic guitar sounds but great vocals and lyrics are important too. I prefer male voices to female overall. Christy Nockels is the gold standard for female voices for me).

And your favorite song?
Hold Me Jesus, by Rich Mullins resonates with me since I struggle with depression at times. “Sometimes my life just don’t make sense at all. When the mountains look so high, and my faith just seems so small . . .So hold me, Jesus, ‘cause I’m shaking like a leaf. You have been King of my glory, won’t you be my Prince of Peace.” It goes on in the bridge: “Surrender don’t come natural to me. I’d rather fight You for something I don’t really want than to take what You give that I need. And I’ve beat my head against so many walls now I’m falling down, I’m falling on my knees . . .”
Makes me cry to realize just how much I need Him. And I’m so grateful He’s been there in those dark moments, holding me, even when I don’t recognize it at the time.

Would you rather be an Irish line dancer, a hula dancer, a clogger, or a cabaret dancer?
Aw, man. Can’t I do some country line dancing? That sounds like it would be sooo much fun! Or jazz dancing with those jazz hands! (PRUDE NOTE: SOME AUTHORS REFUSE TO COLOR IN THE LINES, OR CHOOSE FROM THE DANCE OPTIONS GIVEN. BUT PRUDES ARE FORGIVING)

What three items would you take with you knew you were going to be stranded on a tropical island for a year? (FYI: It has fresh water and plenty for you to eat and a flush toilet).
Do I need toilet paper? Please don’t tell me I need to use leaves.
(1) My Bible. (2) A Rubbermaid box filled with empty journals, notebooks and mechanical pencils/colored pencils, pencil sharpener and lead. (3) A toolbox with the basics (hammer, pliers. LOTS of nails, screwdrivers).

You get to be any household item you want in Disney’s ‘Beauty and the Beast.’ What do you choose?
I want to be a comfortable reading chair in the library.

Cooking, baking, or for Pete’s sake can we please eat out?
I don’t get to eat out often. I can cook or bake well. I just hate cleaning up. Take me out. Q’doba’s would be great . . .but I’m open to other suggestions.

Which would you prefer as a second home: Mountain cabin, beach house or big city condo?
Mountain cabin. Something about the wilderness is so beautiful and relaxing.

If you could witness any event past, present or future, what would it be?
Aristotle teaching his students about ethics. The didactic teaching would be fun to watch. Sorry, that’s the first thing that came to mind? I majored in philosophy in my undergrad.

If you could learn any new skill, what would it be?
Play guitar. I mean like really well. Finger picking etc. Or Banjo. That’d be fun. You can never be sad when a banjo is playing. I love it when we have one as part of our worship teams at church.

************

Susan has made a big difference in my life, as she has in many others. If you don’t ever have the opportunity to meet her, you’ll get a glimpse of her heart through her books.

Meet the Author: Danele Rotharmel (you won’t be sorry)

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Yesterday I reviewed ‘Time Tsunami’ and we learned how Danele created a world of time travel. https://thetuesdayprude.com/2016/02/15/prude-approved-reads-time-tsunami/

Today you’ll get a chance to meet the remarkable creator of this world. I guarantee you have never known anyone like Danele or the near-death experience that led, in part, to the creation of Time Counselor Chronicles.

Here is Danele (aka Twanda):

Danele Rotharmel

And her very unique real-life story:

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 in 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. The first book, Time Tsunami, was released in January. The second book, Time Trap, is scheduled for release this summer. Although her journey back to health was difficult, it provided her with the opportunity to grow closer to God and to write her books. For that, she’s forever thankful.

The links so you can buy this great book:

https://dragonflydanele.wordpress.com/welcome/

http://www.prismbookgroup.com/timetsunami.html
Danele tells us why she writes:

When I was in school, I wrote stories because it was a blast! When I was in quarantine, I wrote as a way to escape pain. Now, I want to write as a way to glorify God. God never left my side when I was ill, and He gave me back my joy and peace. I love Him, and I want to serve Him.

And shares which book made the biggest impact on her life:

If I were being dead serious, I’d say the Bible. But since I’m in a frivolous mood, I’ll say Where the Sidewalk Ends. Shel Silverstein’s poems captured my imagination when I was a child. I’ve always been a little bit nutty, but when I was a kid, I tried to keep most of my wackiness under wraps. I tried to be very polite, and very obedient, and very serious. Shel Silverstein’s poems were so absolutely silly that they made me realize it’s okay to be a wackadoodle.

Below, Danele tackles the burning questions:

Why were you given your particular name?

My mother originally wanted to name me Daniella—but my father said it sounded too much like vanilla. Eventually, they decided on Danele. Mom laughs and says they misspelled my name, but truthfully, they just wanted it to look unique. I really like my name—both how it sounds and how it looks. But most of all, I like what it means. Danele means God is my judge. When I was put into quarantine, some of my acquaintances didn’t understand Multiple Chemical Sensitivity, and as a result, they decided it wasn’t real. They began spreading rumors that I was an agoraphobic hypochondriac. Oh, Anita, those rumors really hurt! And the insidious thing about rumors is that you can’t really battle them. If you try, you just end up making things worse. Around the time the rumors were flying, I learned the meaning of my name–God is my judge. I clung to those words. When people were mean, I realized that what they said didn’t matter—only God’s opinion mattered. I think for the most part, people don’t mean to be cruel. But quarantine taught me that gossip isn’t harmless, and that in the end, the only one you need to answer to is God.

If you had to change your first name, what would you change it to?

Twanda. Years ago, I watched a movie in which the main character called herself Twanda. It wasn’t her real name, but she used it when she wanted to feel empowered. I don’t remember much about the movie, but the name Twanda stuck in my noggin. When I was in quarantine, there would be days when I’d feel like I’d never get better. On those horrible days, I’d look at myself in the mirror, grit my teeth, and tell my illness to address me as Twanda. I’d tell my pain that I was going to win out in the end! It’s probably silly, and maybe Twanda doesn’t even mean what I think it does—after all, in high school I thought a poem about angels dancing on a needle was all about God’s power when it was really about heroin—but calling myself Twanda always makes me feel powerful…Come to think of it, I should probably look up the meaning of Twanda one day. It probably means something silly like sheep gatherer or beetle watcher. But for me, it means, watch out world—clear out, negative thoughts—I’m gonna come out of this sparkling and shiny and strong!!

You’ve been writing all day. You don’t want to cook. You do want to get out of the house. Do you get pizza, burgers, or Chinese?

What?? No Mexican???

Tortilla chips. Salsa!! They call to me. They speak my name.
Oh, I must go and nibble them.
Oh! I must devour their crunchy deliciousness.
Crunch! Crunch! Yum! Yum! Contentment reigns!

(Mexican food always moves me deeply. It inspires me to indulge in ghastly bouts of hideous, uncontrollable poetry. I must apologize. But then—you DID ask…)
What is your favorite sport?

PBR bull riding. I love it!! My grandfather used to enter rodeos, and the rodeo bug has definitely gotten into my blood. In my opinion, of all rodeo events, the one that’s the most exciting is bull riding. I grew up on a dairy farm, so I’m VERY acquainted with bulls. I can’t imagine the guts (or pure insanity) it would take to ride one. When I watch a round of bull riding, my heart is in my throat the whole time. It’s a rush!

Your favorite kind of music?

That depends on my mood. If I’m angry, I want something loud and fast—Skillet will usually do the trick. If I’m strolling around the lake, I want uplifting music—Rebecca St. James, Natalie Grant, Michael W. Smith. And if I’m relaxing, I want something mellow and soft—Michelle Tumes (she’s AWESOME!! I love her CD, Listen). And regardless of how I’m feeling, lots of times I reach for Christmas music—I play it year round. But if I have to choose my absolute favorite group, I’d have to say The Sons of Korah. They sing the Psalms, and I LOVE their music!! You should check them out if you get a chance.

Your favorite song?

Right now it’s “I Will Not Be Moved” by Natalie Grant. My illness really threw me for a loop, and it made me doubt my faith in God. Eventually, I came to the firm conclusion that God is real, God is good, God is intimately concerned with every aspect of my life, Jesus must be kept in the center of my faith, and God is trustworthy in spite of tragedy. Once I recommitted my life to Christ—that was it—no more wavering. I love the message in Natalie’s song: “I WILL NOT BE MOVED!!! ON CHRIST THE SOLID ROCK I STAND!!!” Oooo! Makes me want to stand up and cheer.

Would you rather be an Irish line dancer, a hula dancer, a clogger, or a cabaret dancer?

Oh, for Pete’s sake, Anita!! A klutz like me couldn’t be any of them. It would be dangerous for me to even attempt to dance—I’d end up falling over my feet. But secretly, just between us, I’ve always wanted to be a dancer. I know it’s laughable, but I can’t help it. I love watching dance. It’s so moving—so beautiful. I’m looking forward to heaven when my two left feet will suddenly be coordinated—or when my self-conscious brain won’t care about my clumsiness! But as far as your choices, I’d love to have the fitness level of an Irish line dancer, but I’d love to have the location of a hula dancer. If I had to choose, I suppose I would be a hula dancer. That way, after I made a complete idiot of myself, I could at least take a dip in the Hawaiian surf.

What three items would you take if you knew that you were going to be stranded on a tropical island for a year? (FYI: It has fresh water and plenty for you to eat and a flush toilet)

The first item I’d take would be you!! (Can I consider you an item??) If I had you around, I know that my time on the island would be full of laughter and fun. We’d have a BLAST!!

The second item I’d take would be a spice rack. I’ve seen quite a few episodes of Survivor, and they’re always wishing for salt and pepper to spice up their food.

The third item I’d take would be…hmmmm… I’ve got it!! I’d take satellite phone so that when we were tired of playing castaway, we could call for our luxury yacht to come and whisk us away to Tahiti. (You see—since this is my fantasy, I might as well make it a good one.) Once on the yacht, we’d be treated to foot massages, big juicy steaks, peppermint ice cream, and huge boxes of maple-cream chocolates. And pancakes. With syrup. And peanut butter. Yum!… (Can you tell that I’m still on my ghastly diet?? I’m starting to dream about swimming in marshmallow cream—I think it’s a sign that I’ve eaten WAY too many carrots.)

You get to be any household item you want in Disney’s ‘Beauty and the Beast.’ What do you choose?

I’d be the bookcase so I could absorb all the literature I wanted without any effort at all. Can you imagine having tons of stories floating around in your noggin? What fun!! Yep. That’s what I’d choose.

Cooking, baking, or for pete’s sake can we please eat out?

I love to bake and cook, but after seven years of quarantine, going into a restaurant is pure heaven. Each time I go, I realize just how lucky I am!! Will you think I’m silly if I admit that I almost cried at McDonalds the other day? After so many years, being able to walk into McDonalds for a quick burger was wonderful. One thing about quarantine, I’ll never take the simple luxuries of life for granted again.
Which would you prefer as a second home: Mountain cabin, beach house or big city condo?

Seriously? You have to ask? I’m a Rocky Mountain girl clear to the bone. Give me a lovely mountain cabin deep in the lush green woods—preferably by a brook. Owning a place like that would be pure BLISS!! Especially if there was a bridge spanning the brook.
If you could witness any event past, present or future, what would it be?

Wow!! What a stumper!! I write time travel suspense novels—you’d think I’d have a quick, pat answer for this type of question. Hmmm…..let me think…..Ooooo!! I’ve got it!!! I’d go back to the end of WWII. On V-J Day, I’d go to Times Square and gently nudge a certain nurse out of the way so the hunky sailor could plant that wonderful, historic kiss on me instead. I love the picture of the sailor kissing the nurse on V-J Day—it seems to epitomize absolute euphoric joy.

If you could learn any new skill, what would it be?

I’d like to say hang gliding, but I’m WAY too big of a chicken. So I will keep my feet firmly on the ground and say tennis. I bought a tennis racket on a whim once, and I’ve never used it. It think it’s high time that I start.

And now. folks, you know why I like Danele so much. She is sweet, slightly goofy, uniquely creative and a great encourager.

Check this back cover blurb from her book:

Time Tsunami (Book 1 of The Time Counselor Chronicles)

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?

Time Tsunami is a fast-moving thriller with time travel twists that keep the reader guessing until the very last page.

I am looking forward to Book 2!

Prude Approved Reads: Time Tsunami

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Time Tsunami

Ah. Do-overs. Let’s all take a minute and think of something that, if we could go back in time, we would do over.
-Red Sox 1st baseman Bill Buckner wouldn’t have let a ground ball dribble between his legs to lose the 1986 World Series
-The Sox wouldn’t have sold Babe Ruth to the Yankees (bringing on the curse that would lead to Mr. Buckner’s tragic error in the previous lines)
-Europe and the U.S. wouldn’t have meddled in the petty arguments that led to WWI
-Parents wouldn’t have invested their children’s college funds in Beanie Babies

You’ve thought of something by now, right? So did Danele Rotharmel in ‘Time Tsunami.’ But instead of time travel to avoid a bad blind date, Gil Montgomery’s assignment is to stop the events that would lead to the creation of a serial killer. Instead of a wardrobe to Narnia or a DeLorean to 1955, Gil travels through a television portal to 24 years in the past. She accomplishes her task with such ease, you just know the other shoe is going to drop. Right on Gil’s head. It does, and things start to get really exciting from there.

Ms. Rotharmel creates a complex world with a charming heroine, honorable heroes and a really, really nasty villain. She writes with humor and warmth. There is a love story but the romance doesn’t fully develop till the end, and by ‘fully develop’ I mean we have semi-passionate kisses. No procreation scenes are described or even hinted at. Bless you Danele.

There is blood, though! While not intensely graphic, the author doesn’t spare us from seeing how evil deeds play out. It is a sobering reminder that one act can unleash the hordes of wickedness, but love and selflessness can cover (and prevent) a multitude of sins.

‘Time Tsunami’ by Danele Rotharmel is a meaty, intense and intricately-plotted story with memorable characters and twists nobody (I guarantee) will see coming.

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I had to ask Danele how she created the world of time travel. PhD. in physics, maybe? She graciously shared the fascinating process.

“Basically, “Time Tsunami” is the product of years of daydreaming. I have a clear picture of the TEMCO lab in my mind, and I had fun creating the rules and procedures that govern time travel. I tried to make TEMCO as realistic as possible–that meant giving
the program a history and also a future. I enjoyed showing my reader that
new inventions were being made and new policies were being implemented. The
TEMCO of today isn’t the TEMCO that existed five years ago, and it won’t be
the TEMCO that’s going to exist forty-five years into the future. One of the
things that always fascinated me about JR Tolkien was the fact that he KNEW
his world so well. He had backstories for everything. That’s what I tried to
do when I created my world. I know how the games were designed, the funny
story behind the archives, and why certain rules and regulations were
created. I basically LIVED within my world while I was in quarantine, and it
became my own.

As far as the nuts and bolts–I don’t have a background in physics, but I do
have a big imagination. I managed to get around some of the tricky
time-travel details by having Gil neglect to read the manuals. Her ignorance
covered some of my own. When I was writing my book, Crystal was my biggest
challenge. She was so intelligent that I had to make her words seem
believable–and that meant research. Wikipedia became my best friend. I’d
research little bits and pieces–enough to make the mechanics of time travel
seem plausible. I had such a blast polishing up the details.

One of the fun things about my books is that I wrote all six of them while I
was in quarantine. Because I wrote all six before getting any of them
published, I was able to connect them with little details. For instance, in
book 3, a time portal is opened leading back to events in book 2. Since none
of my books had been published, I was able to go back into book 2 and write
about a mysterious flash of light–a flash that suddenly takes on big
significance when you read book 3. During quarantine, I was constantly
writing and rewriting parts of my books to make the Time Counselor
Chronicles flow effortlessly from one book to the other. I hope that the fun
little details I’ve added will make my books enjoyable to read and reread.

I had so much fun living in my created world. I’m so glad that the world of
TEMCO became real to you as well!

***************

Please come back tomorrow to learn more about Danele. Her real-life story reads almost like a nail-biter suspense book.

Hounded

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Friday, February 5, my second book ‘Hounded’ (published by Prism Book Group) comes out in e-readers (Kindle and Nook are the two I’m familiar with. There are probably ten thousand more that I am unaware of. The world of technology just keeps rolling along without me.)

If you prefer real, hold-able books with covers and paper pages, ‘Hounded’ will be out in that form at some future date.

This is the first book in a series called ‘Love Is’ and based on I Corinthians 13:4-8.

This is the blurb from the back of the book. (The back-cover blurb is more excruciating to compose than everything between the covers.)

Elise Amberson’s husbands always die before she can get the marriage momentum going. At least this last one left her with lots of money. Now she can hang out with her dogs, avoid men, and try to keep off God’s radar.
But her dogs are behaving oddly, a pesky pastor can’t keep his hands off her soul, and God is backing her into a corner.
It’s all more than a rich, beautiful young woman should have to bear. But when someone begins targeting Elise, she’ll have to figure out why before she becomes the late Widow Amberson.

This is the cover. If you read the book—and I hope you do—you might say,

“Jeff the mongrel dog looks remarkably like a purebred Bernese Mountain Dog on this cover.”  He photographs well.

LoveIs_Hounded copy