Hi! My latest book Her Abundant Joy is on the shelves of your local bookstore or library. I know, I know. You knew that!
But what I forgot to mention earlier this month was that I am doing a drawing in June.
If you leave a comment this month with your email address (Use the (dot) (@) form to frustrate Spammers please!), you will be entered in the drawing to win an autographed copy of the final book in my Texas Star of Destiny series. I think it’s one of the best books I’ve written yet. And if you read it, I’d be interested in what you think.
Writing is a funny business. I spend months planning, researching, writing, and revising. Then my book goes off and ….. The book may sell thousands of copies. Yet I rarely if ever get to interact with someone who has read my book.
Just think of it as working hard to prepare a special family dinner and then—not getting to watch your family eat it. Blogs and social networks like GoodReads and Facebook help a bit. But writers really do live a life of DELAYED gratification. GRIN
Oh, well, I was born to write and that’s what I do!
Thanks for the ten readers who voted to let me know if I should change the format of this blog or not. The unanimous (though small number) vote was to keep the mixture of my thoughts and the stories and thoughts of other authors and readers. I must agree.
Now be sure to make a comment this month to be entered into the June drawing. Blessings–Lyn To purchase Her Abundant Joy, drop by my website and click the cover.
Her Abundant Joy by Lyn Cote Final book of Texas Star of Destiny series Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: for the end of that man is peace. Psalm 37: 37
Chapter One Texas, April 1846
Gazing ahead through the pouring rain, Carson Quinn tried to take a deep breath and couldn’t. Searing tightness in his chest reminded him–he hadn’t been able to blot out the images. Images the past week with Blanche had blistered into his mind, knotted around his lungs. Late on his second day in the saddle, all he was looking forward to was a hot bath and a warm bed at one of Galveston’s inns, comfort for his body if not his spirit.
Draped within the dismal mist, he nudged his horse to churn quicker through mud and murky puddles over the last half-mile into the seaport. Amid the jumble of buildings, strange people clogged the streets. He pulled up on his reins. Something had happened here. Something out of the ordinary. Something that might force him out of his own misery into the misery of others.
People huddled under dripping trees, under canvas, and standing under the overhanging roofs of stores, everyone drenched. Rainwater funneled down his leather hat as he steered his horse through the throng. Those who peered up at him looked pale, forlorn and sickly. They weren’t dressed like Texans, or even Americans— He inhaled a shallow breath. He still thought of Americans as separate from Texas, from him. But Texas was part of the US now. Had been for over two months.
My guest today is Author Linda Windsor, a strong woman if I ever knew one. Here’s Linda:
“Healer is a story of a woman’s hope based on faith rather than feelings. Brenna of Gowys has been forced into hiding for most of her twenty years by her mother Joanna’s dying prophecy to her murderer.]: “My seed shall divide your house and bring about a love beyond your wicked ken.” So Brenna is hunted by the O’Byrnes who seek to kill her and by her own clan, who would have her lead them to certain death against the stronger enemy. Brenna is a healer, not a warrior. So when she rescues a man ambushed and left for dead, she cannot know that he is her worst enemy. All she knows is that she is a healer and as such, has no choice.
For nearly fourteen years, I too was isolated. Not by some prophecy, but by chemical depression. Joy became a word to me, nothing more. Fear, anger and self-doubt formed my prison walls, shutting me off from family, friends, and, in the beginning, even God. Looking back, I can say today that it was the best thing that ever happened to me because my faith grew in ways it might never have otherwise. Over that span of time, God taught me that I could not trust my feelings. They are temporal, subject to change by the dip or rise of serotonin levels in my body or the ups and downs of life’s merry-go-round. But His Word is eternal and unchanging. I learned that negative feelings, self-doubt and helplessness were the devil’s favorite weapons to bring me down into darkness and rob me of joy. And that I had to use mind or knowledge of God’s Word as a shield against the negative. God told me through His Word that He would never leave nor forsake me…even when I couldn’t feel or sense His presence. That He heard every prayer I prayed, even when my mind was too battered and weary to form words. And that I was in the good company of some of God’s favorites like Moses and David…even His son.
One Easter I was to speak on Good Friday on one of the Seven Sayings From the Cross. “My God why hast thou forsaken me?” As I pondered it during a depressed low, a light kindled. Not just in my mind, but in my heart. That was how “I” felt—forsaken. So WWJD? His next words were “I thirst.” And to me God said, He thirsted for the Father…like me. Then Jesus turned His Spirit over to the Father. That’s what I had to do. When I felt forsaken or confused, I had to thirst for the Word and drink. Know there was a bigger plan I could not see. And then turn my despair over to my Father. Trouble? Thirst and Turn. Three T’s. Easier said than done. I’d run the three T’s and then add another—Take it back. Then I’d run the three T’s again. And again. And again. Because I knew—KNEW—this was truth and that my feelings were illusion…temporal. God’s Word with all its assurance and promise was eternal.
From this I began to take risks…stepping out into the circles of family and friends, speaking and singing in church and at writing conferences. No one could believe that bubbly, zany Linda Windsor had chemical depression. Or that she’d had to run the Three T’s just before speaking to them. It wasn’t my inner strength. It was God’s enabling a willing, if trembling, heart. Brenna must face her fears as well. She must leave the security of her isolation because it is what God has called her to do. Even when it doesn’t feel like He’s there. Even when her prayers aren’t answered the way she expects. Even when extending His love to her enemy could cost her life. She runs through the three T’s, demonstrating faith under fire. And God never lets her down. He never let me down. And He will never let you down.”–Author Linda Windsor
To check out first chapters of Linda’s books, enter contests or sign up for her umpthly newsletter, visit www.LindaWindsor.com. (umpthly is a Windsorism for ‘when I have something to say’).
I wrote an endorsement for this book-if you enjoy, rich historical detail and breathless romance–this book is for you!–Lyn
Book Monday features a new Love Inspired Suspense, End Game by Author Roxanne Rustand.
Here it starts:
“I’ll be seeing you again….”
The attacker’s words still ring in Deputy Megan Peters’s ears. Her attempt to trap the serial rapist terrorizing Lost Falls failed, but she has succeeded in becoming the target of his attention. Undaunted, Megan moves forward in her investigation, and Scott Anders, the only newcomer in town, draws her suspicion. Is his gentleness just an act? Yet as Megan and Scott grow closer, she finds herself questioning her instincts. What will she believe—her heart or the evidence that seems to be mounting against Scott?
First Page: “I won’t stop until I find this guy, Anna.” Seeing the raw pain in her friend’s eyes, Megan Peters took a deep breath and forced back the memories threatening to swamp her. “I promise.”
“How?” Anna lashed out, pulling her hands away from Megan’s. “I didn’t see his face. I don’t know who it was, and neither did the other woman who got away. And the two dead girls won’t be talking.”
The bitterness in Anna’s voice stung Megan as if she’d been slapped. “No. But the DNA—”
“Hasn’t matched anyone in the system so far, and probably never will, right? This guy will never be caught.”
“But it does connect the crimes, so when we get him, we’ll be able to send him away for good. There’ll be a time when someone picks up on a clue. Someone else who escapes.”
They both fell silent, Megan’s words a chilling re minder of the two women who had been raped and murdered within the past six months. If a group of noisy hikers hadn’t come by and scared off her attacker, Anna might have been number three.”
I am blogging about Mustang grapes. If you’ve never heard of them (I hadn’t until I began researching Texas for my Texas Star of Destiny series), you should drop by and see what they are. You never know–you might be on Jeopardy someday and knowing this might win you thousands!
The First Page today is from SHADES OF MORNING by Author Marlo Schalesky.
First Page Autumn snow fell like fat angels fluttering to earth. Emmit sat on the snowbank, his eyes closed, his head tipped back. He was a snowflake too, drifting on the breeze. Cold nibbled at his wings. Ice kissed his lashes. He stuck out his tongue and caught a flake. Why did the snow always melt away just when he finally got some? He reached up and scratched his too-small ears with a too-small hand. Then he adjusted his heavy, coke-bottle glasses. Something whispered in the wind. He held his breath and listened with all his might. He could almost hear the voices telling him that today he was fifteen years old. It was a big number. They all said so. He was a big boy now. All grown up. And that meant it was time for the prayer to be answered. Not some little prayer about sniffly noses and friends at school. Not one about nice weather or where to park a car. This prayer was important. It was about love. It was about family. And God always answered those. Especially today. Emmit wiggled deeper into the snow. The flakes fell in heavier clumps. He opened his eyes and waited. The pretty light would be coming soon. The big whirring one on top of the truck that picked up the garbage from the cans on the street. He liked the light. Round and round. Round and round. It would come.
Hi Blogging friends and readers, I’d like to know which kind of posts that appear here are the ones you like best. I’ve posted a new poll on the top right for you to express yourself. Would you please tell me your opinion? I’m trying to decide if you want more of me every month or if you are happy with the mix of authors and me telling about the strong women in their lives and books.
So take a moment this week and vote. Thanks in advance! BTW, the final book in my “Texas Star of Destiny” series is released TODAY!
I loved writing this book and hope you will love reading it. Be sure to ask for it at your local bookstore or library! Thanks!–Lyn
Book Monday features Steadfast Soldier by Love Inspired Author Cheryl Wyatt, a fitting book for Memorial Day. Here’s the scoop:
“Rescuing people is his job…But the one person pararescue jumper Chance Garrison can’t seem to help is his own ailing father, who refuses his much-needed physical rehabilitation. That is, until Chance hires unconventional occupational therapist Chloe Callet. To his surprise, Chloe and her sweet black Lab, Midnight, work wonders. And not only on the elder Garrison. Chance just may have met the woman who can get through his own toughened exterior. Can he persuade the lovely Chloe to take a chance—on him?
Born Valentines Day on a naval base, Cheryl Wyatt writes military romance. Her Steeple Hill debuts earned RT Top Picks plus #1 and #4 on eHarlequin’s Top 10 Most-Blogged-About-Books, lists including NYT Bestsellers. Her books have won a Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for the Best Series Love Inspired in 2009 and garnered a Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence final.
Today’s story of a strong woman is by Edna Deaton Tollison, a faithful follower of this blog and supporter of Christian writers. When she won a giveaway on this blog, she sent me a lovely butterfly she’d crocheted. That butterfly lives on my refrigerator now. Here’s Edna and the story of her mother in her own words:
“My mother was born in 1898 and died 1980. She was forty five when I came along and she already had nine other children. She was born to Johan and Elizabeth Schultz and her Mother died in childbirth when she was four. The baby was passed on to an aunt to raise, but Mama had to stay with my grandfather. He was a full German. He later remarried and the step-mom was not that great to my Mom. She went to school only to the forth grade, but she could read and write.
She married my dad when she was twenty years old and had the ten children. She never worked outside the home and they farmed and always had a garden. My dad passed away with cancer in nineteen fifty-one when I was eight years old and left my Mother with four children still at home. she received social security off my Dad until we reached eighteen. But that is what I was raised on, and she did sewing, washing and ironing, and she always backed cakes for anyone that wanted to pay a little for them. We lived in an old house that my Dad had built when they first married. But thank God I loved school so well that I was the only one of the ten children that finished high school. All of my siblings are gone down except the brother just above me that is seven years older. I am so glad that my Mother lived long enough that she didn’t lose any of her children while she was here on this old earth.
She was very Religious but didn’t accept Christ as her Savior until nineteen sixty-eight, but once she did she was a very good Christian.
She fell in nineteen eighty on her door steps as she came home from a Wednesday night service. She lay there for a good while before my brother heard her, he lived next door, and came and got her up. Then she could no longer stay at home by herself. We took her from house to house as she stayed with different children until on the night of my oldest son’s graduation and she fell at my sister’s house and we had to take her to the hospital. She seem to be doing well but on a Friday in June I was called as I live two hours away from all the rest, and I made it up there but she had tubes coming out of her and was bleeding inside. No one know why, but she left us that night and went to be with the Lord.
I have her picture in my family room and I look at her and still talk to her, she was the best Mother there ever was and I still miss her today after thirty years. I raised four children of my own and wish she could have known my grandchildren.
Sloan’s stomach got that funny sick feeling like he was going to vomit. He hated when Mama brought someone home at night. Someone drunk and noisy. He knew what people said about her. Joni Hawkins was no good, like her jailbird husband. They gossiped, said dirty things about her. He was eleven. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what the words meant.
They were all big fat liars.
He tiptoed down the dark hallway to the door, careful not to be heard. Mama would tell him to go back to bed. But he worried when she brought a man home.
He could hear them in there, but he couldn’t make out the words. The man’s voice rumbled, rising at times. Then Mama’s soothing tones would calm him down. She was good at soothing.
A narrow beam of light sliced along the edge of the wooden floor. Breath held, he placed his right eye against the skinny crack and slowly, slowly, let the air ease out through his nose.
He couldn’t see much. A flash of Mama’s pink diner shirt. A man’s leg in dark pants. Dress-up pants. Sloan could see a big hand too, held out toward mama as though asking for something.
What was that on the man’s wrist? A watch? Sloan squeezed closer until the wood pressed hard into his face and his eyelashes folded back against his eyelid. Not a watch, a fancy bracelet with stones. Sloan held back a laugh, relaxing a little. Only a sissy would wear a bracelet like a girl.
