Natalie’s Deception with Bonnie Engstrom

IMG_0171 (1)Lies, guilt, stalking. Natalie is injured and left lying on the ground. Melanie is terrified of her step-father. Bryce is drowning in guilt. Billy is frustrated, mad at himself. Emily is despondent. Claire has something up her sleeve.

Two handsome men vie for Natalie’s attention, traveling from Newport Beach to Scottsdale, Arizona to woo her. But one caused her back injury, and one strands her on the top of a Ferris Wheel knowing how terrified she is of heights, even though she took sky-diving lessons with him.

Depressed Emily confides in Natalie, and Emily’s life takes a turn thanks to Nick’s meddlesome mother, Claire. Is love still possible? If it is, what would the Feng Shui designer chose as a wedding theme? Certainly, not pink. And, hot dogs at the reception?

Will Natalie ever find love? She wants it badly, but is thrilled two Candy Canes are expecting babies. She will be an aunt again. But, when will she be a wife and mother?

Excerpt:

Natalie stared at the ceiling in her bedroom. Her life seemed to revolve around a cat and her friends. No romance. She knew of all the Candy Cane sisters she was the least chic. Doreen was a model now, Noelle with her blonde hair and effervescent personality and stylish taste in clothes had always been dubbed stunning, Connie was a fashion designer and pretty and wore her own gorgeous designer clothes as well as now being married to a handsome banker, Candy was just Candy. She was truly beautiful and loved so much by a man who showed that love to convince her to marry him – twice. Cindy, of course, glowed with the Lord’s light. She was the consummate leader, the one who encouraged and prayed and the one they all truly believed would plant a church in Costa Rica, the one who loved Rob with all his health failings, the one who had given all of them the first Candy Cane baby. Now, because of Cindy, they were all aunts.

Her mind wandered to Melanie, the latest Candy Cane who was so graciously accepted after she had caused Doreen’s accident. Melanie was special and had become an integral member of the group. She prayed with them, she supported them, she shared her own pain. Natalie felt a unique bond with her. Yes, she was special.

What was she, Natalie? How special was she to anyone?

New Website photo 6-7-15 IMG_0903“A grandchild.” What Bonnie Engstrom prayed for many years. Finally, it happened, then there was the explosion – six grandchildren! Four live in Scottsdale a stone’s throw from her and Grandpa Dave, and two live in Costa Rica on the beach. Surf’s Up! Pura Vida. All make occasional cameo appearances in her stories.

When she finally realized her other dream of publishing Christian fiction she sandwiched it between taking grandchildren to soccer practice and gymnastics (after the years of changing diapers). Now, she juggles picking up four children after school to help her daughter who is the director of a Christian Pre-school and Kindergarten, and when the kids are settled with their IPads (best Christmas present ever), she slinks into her den and writes.

Life is frantic and crazy sometimes, but always entertaining and filled with joy.

Bonnie and her psychologist husband Dave have been married for over 53 years. A true milestone for a shrink. Yes, we all affectionately refer to him as the resident shrink who now teaches online classes for the University of Phoenix and classes at the hospital where he is on staff, and frequently babysits his grandkids. He is a great support to Bonnie in her writing, and as the now resident chef makes a succulent dinner.

Bonnie was raised in Pittsburgh, PA and Dave in Chicago, and they raised their children in Newport Beach for over thirty years. So, if you have roots in any, please share. If you wish to contact her, please email her at bengstrom@hotmail.com. Be sure to put the word BOOK in the subject line in case your post goes into her crazy junk mail file.

If you enjoyed Natalie’s Deception, please start from the beginning of the Candy Canes stories and read Noelle’s Christmas Wedding. I promise you will not be disappointed. All the Candy Cane girls are unique and have fun, share faith and friendship.

 

You can also reach Bonnie through her website www.bonnieengstrom.com and Face Book. Put her name in, but she is not a frequent FB contributor because she is not real good at it.

Amazon purchase link: http://amzn.to/2mbNDRn

 

 

With Good Intentions with Jo Huddleston

Jhuddlestono Huddleston is a multi-published author of books, articles, and short stories. Novels in her West Virginia Mountains series, her Caney Creek series, and her standalone novel, Tidewater Summer, are sweet Southern historical romances. Jo is a member of ACFW and the Literary Hall of Fame at Lincoln Memorial University (TN). Learn more at www.johuddleston.com where you can read first chapters of her novels and novellas and also sign up for her mailing list.

 

 

with-good-intentionsWith Good Intentions is A sweet romance spiced with deception, set in 1959.

Jean Stewart and her mama stand firm to protect their family business from a big-city developer’s takeover. Oscar Wainworth sends his son William to convince the ladies to sell their property. William has an instant attraction to Jean, believes he shouldn’t be the one to discuss the sale with the Stewarts, and gives them a fake name. If they know he’s a Wainworth, he’s likely to find himself out on the sidewalk.

One lie leads to another until William may have dug a hole too deep to escape. By stealth he learns that Jean can’t associate with anyone who is dishonest. To win Jean’s love, William must convince her that his lies flowed from good intentions.

Chapter 1

October 1959—Birmingham, Alabama

William Wainworth shifted in his chair, stretched his long legs beneath the massive conference table, and braced for the impending reprimand from the CEO. This regular Monday morning meeting of Wainworth Development sales staff had gone on longer than he’d expected.

He would loosen his necktie but doing so would violate the expectations Wainworth’s CEO held for his male employees: wear a coat and tie when representing Wainworth Development. His daddy being the CEO of Wainworth Development, William had that rule ingrained in him from an early age.

Among other stellar traits, his daddy dressed immaculately, and he expected his workforce to follow his example. His appearance had favorably impressed many clients who sat with him in his Birmingham office. Every weekday, he never ventured outside his home without the requisite coat and necktie. William had never seen him wear wrinkled pants or curled-up shirt collars.

Now, Oscar Wainworth stood tall, slender, and good-looking between the head of the table and an easel, his index finger tapping on a sketch positioned there. William moved his attention from his daddy to the sketch, a street-level drawing of storefronts along a sidewalk in Conroy, Alabama.

Wainworth Development sought to purchase that entire block of businesses, demolish the buildings, and replace them with an apartment complex having a bookstore on the first floor. Sitting across the street from a growing college, the location proved ideal for Wainworth’s purpose.

The building plans had received the city’s approval. Wainworth representatives had successfully gained signatures on real estate contracts to acquire all the properties except one. The smallest business on the block refused to sell, despite repeated overtures from Wainworth Development.

Oscar Wainworth faced the dozen or so men seated around the table in chairs upholstered in rich, brown leather. He put his palms on the gleaming tabletop and leaned forward. “Gentlemen, this one small store is the monkey wrench in this whole deal. We’ve bought up all the properties on the block, yet here’s this little hole-in-the-wall ice cream shop smack-dab in the middle that you’ve not convinced to sell. Why is that? Why this one store?”

Mumbled reasons and comments circulated around the massive table. William and Oscar had heard them all before. Oscar Wainworth stood straight, his six-foot-four height menacing, and met the eyes of each salesman. “Yes, the owners are females, and you’ve all probably tried to be gentlemanly in your contacts with them. That’s commendable and appropriate.

“But, men, you need to work with these ladies just as you would any other client. Wainworth Development is a business, and you must conduct yourselves accordingly—doesn’t matter if you’re dealing with a man or a woman. However, it’s time to get tough with these women. Understood?”

The men bobbed their heads in sync as if they followed the directions of an orchestra conductor, and his daddy continued. “Do I have to go down there and show you how it’s done? Must I close this deal myself? I assure you I will not be happy if I do.”

His gaze settled on his son. “William, I want you to go down to Conroy and convince the owners to sell. This has become a special case, and if you’ve learned anything from me in your thirty-two years, you’ll be successful. You drive on down there and stay as long as it takes to get the job done.”

“Yes, sir, I will.”

“Get going. Now.” He waved a hand toward the closed door to spur William into motion. “Ask Gloria for the files on this property and be on your way. Check back with me when you get there.”

William pushed his chair away from the conference table and rose. “Yes, sir.” His daddy was a workaholic, especially since his wife, William’s mama, had died five years ago. Oscar Wainworth put in a sixty-hour work week, never leaving a job undone. He expected similar dedication in his staff.

Finally outside the conference room and waiting at Gloria’s desk for her to collect the files, William exhaled. He didn’t mind that his daddy booted him out of the meeting—anything beat sitting in a stuffy roomful of cigar smoke.

Gloria returned and handed him several file folders. “Here are the files you need. Good luck. I hope your trip goes better than those of the other men Mr. Wainworth has sent down there.”

“Thanks. Where did the other guys stay? You got the name of a hotel?”

“Yes, they stayed at the Conroy Hotel. I’ll telephone to reserve you a room. How long will you be staying?”

“Maybe for the remainder of the week.”

~

Same Day—Conroy, Alabama

William carried his luggage up to a second-floor hotel room, then returned downstairs to grab a late lunch in the hotel’s dining room. When he crossed the lobby, the antiquated wooden floors groaned beneath his every step. Inside the dining room, booths lined one wall and tables covered with white linen tablecloths dotted the floor space.

He asked the hostess for a booth, and she seated him at a high-back wooden booth near the entrance. After a light lunch of steaming vegetable soup and a ham sandwich, he found a pay phone in the lobby and stepped into the booth to call Birmingham.

“Good afternoon. Wainworth Development.”

“Gloria, ring my daddy’s office, please.”

Shortly, he heard his daddy’s voice. “That you, William? How does the lay of the land look down there?”

“Just letting you know I’m here. Haven’t seen the owners yet, but plan to go there now.”

“Fine, fine. How about you call me every morning about ten o’clock to bring me up-to-date with what you’re doing? We’ve got to get this deal finalized.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll do that.”

William stepped out of the telephone booth to walk outside the red brick hotel. He stood on the sidewalk, hands shoved into his pants pockets. Without haste, he scanned what he could see of the town—to his left, a bank stood on the corner, and to his right, a drugstore anchored that corner, its front facing away from him.

Not many folks moving around, and from the casual dress of those passing by him, then had to be college students. He glanced at his polished shoes and creased dress pants—shades of Oscar Wainworth. He’d stand out like a palm tree at the North Pole among these young people. Might as well put a sign on his back saying, Here I am from the big city. I want to buy your property.

He returned to his hotel room, tugging off his necktie as he opened his luggage. Later, again on the sidewalk, dressed in blue jeans with his long-sleeved dress shirt now open at the neck, his black leather bomber jacket, and loafers, William breathed in the fresh air. A satisfying change from the pollution that filled the air over Birmingham.

Turning to his right, he sauntered west until he reached the corner and stopped. He faced the street in front of the drugstore and read the signpost: College Street. Some committee must have worked many hours to come up with that original name—the street sliced through downtown Conroy, Alabama, between the college and the town. The next block to his left held the businesses Wainworth Development had bought. Except for the ice cream shop. Might as well head on down there.

He crossed the street when the traffic light changed. Again on the sidewalk, he passed the stores that would soon disappear once Wainworth had acquired all the properties.

Before he reached his destination, the clock tower atop a lofty red brick building across College Street tolled the hour. Three o’clock. A spattering of foot traffic moved across the manicured lawns of nearby campus buildings. Probably class-changing time.

A short distance farther, William stood outside the building whose purchase depended on him. The sign above the door read: Stewart’s Ice Cream Shop.

Inside, William verified that his daddy had been correct when he referred to the business as a hole-in-the-wall place. With about only 400 square feet, the twelve-foot wide, deep room measured about thirty-five feet from the entrance to a closed swinging door in the back. Along the right wall, chairs occupied the length of the room, stopping at a pay phone attached to the wall and a display case that faced the entrance.

The tile floor shone, and on his left stood three ice cream cases, each about eight feet long. Their fronts were white and spotless, and no fingerprints smudged the glass through which sat numerous opened tubs of ice cream. The sweet, pleasant scent of ice cream filled the room and drew William to follow the customers already in the shop.

He fell in line with a few college students awaiting their turn to be served. The kids weren’t impatient, but rather they calmly shuffled toward the cash register. He’d skipped dessert in anticipation of his visit to the ice cream shop, and the various flavors listed on the wall tempted him.

An attractive woman probably in her late forties with dark hair and a pleasant face worked efficiently behind the counter. Another female stood behind the tall display case near the rear of the room. He could only see the back of her head and didn’t have a clue to what she did. Soon William stood first in the line.

“May I help you?” the woman asked.

“Yes, ma’am. I’d like a cone—two scoops, please.”

“What flavor?”

“Vanilla and chocolate. Would you please put the vanilla on the cone first and then the chocolate?”

The woman dipped his ice cream onto a cone while William read the flavors painted on a wooden board hanging above a counter behind her. “You certainly offer a lot of flavors here.”

“And yet you choose our trusty standbys—vanilla and chocolate.”

“Yes, ma’am. Always been my favorites.”

William paid for his treat and took a seat in the last chair against the wall. From there he had an unlimited view of the business except for the area behind the display case to his right. His attention fell to the contents of the case. Behind the glass sat numerous delicious-looking desserts—artfully decorated cakes and pies waiting to be personalized with someone’s name, a tray of individually-wrapped ice cream sandwiches, and two log rolls made of chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream.

Everyone had been served, and either left with their ice cream or taken seats along the wall to eat their treats. The woman who had served him sauntered toward where William sat. She stopped at the empty counter space across from him, reached underneath it, and brought out a large piece of flat cardboard decorated with balloons of red, blue, green, and yellow and the name of the ice cream shop.

While the woman worked with the cardboard, she spoke to the girl behind the display case near him. “Did any Wainworth people contact you before I came to work?”

William angled his body toward the entrance, pretending lack of interest in what the woman had said. He watched the traffic outside the front window but kept his attention on the conversation before him.

The girl behind the display case joined the woman assembling the cardboard into a cake box. “No, ma’am. No one has come by or called, which is unusual for a Monday. For weeks now they’ve been persistent, showing up here almost every day.” The girl had on a white basic bib apron, as the older woman did, over her skirt and blouse and wore blue Keds on her feet.

“Maybe you’ve finally convinced them you mean it when you say we don’t want to sell.”

“Mama, I hope so, but I doubt that.” The two could be sisters, as attractive as they were, rather than mother and daughter. Probably the owners. The girl reached beneath the counter and pulled out another sheet of cardboard to give the older woman. “I’ve talked with some of the other business owners, and it appears we’re the only holdouts on the block.

“If that’s the case, rather than give up, Wainworth Development will increase their pressure on us to sell. I cringe every time someone dressed in a suit and necktie come through the door. All the Wainworth people think they can make us sell—they’re so arrogant and expect us to roll over and play dead when they wave money in front of us.”

Good thing William had changed clothes before visiting their shop.

“Their money would be nice, Jean. We could pay off the mortgage here and have some left over. I could get used to not working outside the home again.”

“Mama, please don’t go soft on this. We’re not going to sell! Daddy started this business, and we’ll do everything we can to keep it going.”

Jean’s mama put the assembled boxes underneath the counter and started toward the cash register to help new customers. The girl returned to whatever kept her busy behind the dessert case.

William left his chair and stepped nearer the display case, continuing to enjoy his ice cream cone. Bending at the waist and peering inside at the cakes, William didn’t notice the girl behind the case had approached him. A female voice drew his attention. “May I help you with something from the dessert case?”

He straightened and turned toward the voice. When their eyes met, hers were the color of the deepest part of the Gulf of Mexico waters and turned him into a bumbling adolescent. “Ah, well, no, thank you. Just, uh, looking. Did you make all these pretty cakes?”

She smiled, apparently enjoying his discomfort. “Yes, I did. See something you like in there?”

Not in the dessert case, he didn’t. But he wouldn’t mind getting to know the dark-haired woman standing next to him. “No, thanks. Guess I’ll just finish this cone I’ve started.”

“I recognize our regulars, the college kids, but I don’t believe you’ve been in here before. You new in town?”

“Yeah, you could say that. I’m, er, I’m doing some work on the college campus.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Uh, helping one of the professors with some research.”

“Then welcome to our town. I’m Jean Stewart.”

“Thanks. I’m Will….” Beyond her shoulder, he saw the wooden board where they listed their ice cream flavors. “…Will Woods.”

Book’s Purchase Link:

http://amzn.to/2lTR7LF

 

Links to Huddleston Online:

Website and blog (Read novel first chapters here): http://www.johuddleston.com

Sign up for Jo’s mailing list: http://bit.ly/1ZFaZwG

Amazon author page: http://amzn.to/2cfSroU

Facebook author page: http://bit.ly/2aqFEeT

Facebook personal page: http://on.fb.me/1Ubic69

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1QAPtFv

Inspirational blog: http://bit.ly/2gttKVr

BookBub Profile: http://bit.ly/2liB0G3

 

Engaged with Julie Arduini

engagedfinal-page-001_editedENGAGED: Coming Spring 2017

ENGAGED Blurb:

Trish Maxwell returns to her mountain hometown after a failed move to New York City with a lot of apologies to make. The Speculator Falls residents haven’t forgotten how she left, and want to know what’s next for her. Paramedic Wayne Peterson encourages Trish with her idea to market Adirondack store fronts to increase business traffic, but he also wonders if her love for city life will lure her away from their blossoming friendship. Can Trish find a “Plan B” that will satisfy her and gain back the trust of everyone in Speculator Falls?

While You Wait:

Julie Arduini has a FREE 14 Day devotional based on the characters from Entrusted, Entangled and Engaged. FINDING FREEDOM FROM SURRENDER features the surrender issues fear, loss, and change, including Julie’s own surrender experiences. Click link for your copy. FINDING FREEDOM THROUGH SURRENDER.

Links:

ENTRUSTED: Surrendering the Present, Book 1

ENTANGLED: Surrendering the Past, Book 2

ENGAGED: Surrendering the Future, Book 3, Coming Soon

febuary2017Julie Arduini loves to encourage readers to surrender the good, the bad, and —maybe one day—the chocolate. She’s the author of ENTRUSTED: Surrendering the Present, as well as ENTANGLED: Surrendering the Past. The last book in the series, ENGAGED: Surrendering the Future, is coming soon. She also shares her story in the infertility devotional, A WALK IN THE VALLEY. She blogs every other Wednesday for Christians Read. She resides in Ohio with her husband and two children. Learn more by visiting her at http://juliearduini.com, where she invites readers to subscribe to her monthly newsletter full of resources and giveaway opportunities.

 

Facebook: http://facebook.com/JulieArduini

Twitter: http://twitter.com/JulieArduini

G+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+JulieArduini/posts

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/JulieArduini

Instagram: http://instagram.com/JulieArduini

Snapchat: https://www.snapchat.com/add/JulieArduini

Goodreads: http://goodreads.com/JulieArduini

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Julie-Arduini/e/B00PBKDRSQ/

Monthly Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/dCFG

 

 

 

Against the Odds

Against the Odds by V.B Tenery and David Arp

against-the-odds-book-cover-front1-200x300It was the mother of all bad days. The date, September 11, 2012. The place, Benghazi, Libya. While a brave band of warrior’s fight for their lives in the consulate and CIA annex, outside, a Mossad Agent, a missionary, and a Mississippi giant fight a different battle. Caught between terrorist and an enraged Russian arms dealer, they must complete the mission and manage to stay alive until they can escape or the cavalry arrives. Never assume things can’t get worse.

 

 

 

new-imageAward willing author V. B. Tenery lives with her family in East Texas. Her passion is writing novels with shinning characters, settings, and plots so exciting readers can’t put them down and they come away feeling delighted with the reading experience—honoring God in the process. Not content to stay in one genre, her novels range from contemporary suspense and supernatural suspense, to an upcoming historical suspense set in WWII England. When not writing she enjoys reading, hiking, and tube-floating down rivers in the beautiful Texas Hill Country

God’s child, trying to make Him proud.

Website: www.vbtenery.com

Twitter:  http://twitter.com@teneryherrin

Facebook:  www.facebook.com/vbtenery

dave-alaska-2011-1jpgDavid was born in Arizona and raised in Texas where he began a career in the oil and gas drilling industry soon after graduating high school. Since then, he’s traveled the world to places like Dubai, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Malaysia, India, China, Mauritius, and Namibia.

He discovered his love for writing while working for Aramco, drilling wells throughout Saudi Arabia. He even learned to speak decent, albeit Texas accent-laced, Arabic.

Today, David splits his life evenly between his wife of 30 years, Karen, at home in Colorado and a deep-water drilling rig on the Gulf of Mexico.

Blog: Take a Walk in the Patch

https://davearp.wordpress.com

#NewRelease A Love Song for Kayla by Kimberly Rose Johnson

In an earlier post I mentioned that I would be going indie. Well, I did it! Feb. 2nd I released A Love Song for Kayla. This book was originally published in 2015 by my then publisher, but since I have my rights back, I changed the title and put on a new cover. The story is the same.

love-song-ebook

Here is the back cover blurb.

When two strangers cross paths their lives are forever altered.

Ever since she was sixteen Kayla Russell has dreamed of her perfect man. She even went so far as to make a list of desired qualities. The list has proven to be a bust since no man is that perfect, at least until she meets Derek. But will his secrets come between them and destroy what could have been something wonderful?

When music superstar Derek Parker comes to small town Oregon to escape the paparazzi he goes incognito as a deliveryman. He wants to leave his old life behind, but it proves to be harder than he realized when his past finds him. Now the woman he has come to care for feels deceived and no longer wants anything to do with him.

Formerly published under the title A Valentine for Kayla.

This story was born out of my own dislike of Valentine’s Day. I literally began writing it on Valentine’s in 2014. Here is a short excerpt. I think you will see my own angst reflected in Kayla.

I hate Valentine’s Day.” Kayla Russell secured a flower arrangement in the delivery box, then moved on to the next one in a long line of vases and baskets filled with colorful flowers and greenery. Everywhere she looked there were hearts or cupids to remind her of the dreaded day.

Her best friend and business partner, Jill, shot her the look—the one that said Spare me. “I’m sure if you had a boyfriend, you’d feel differently.”

“Unlikely. Think about it—no matter how you look at it, unless your man is Prince Charming, there’s no way he can live up to the hype. The day is one big disappointment.”

“I’m glad everyone doesn’t feel that way or you and I would be out of business. Have you looked at the orders? I’m going to be working all night just to get everything finished in time for Charlie to deliver tomorrow.”
Kayla bit her bottom lip. Flowers and More depended on successful holidays to keep their doors open. Sure, they stocked gifts and music, but the big money came from days like Valentine’s. She glanced at the clock. “I wish the UPS guy would get here. He’s late, and I needed the cards for the flowers yesterday.”

“Use one of the generic cards with our logo. No one will care if there’s not a heart on the card.”

“I care. I may not like the day, but I want our customers to feel treasured and loved.” Kayla fluffed and straightened a bow around a clear vase—perfect.

“For someone who despises the most romantic day of the year, you’re quite the romantic.” A tiny smile crossed Jill’s face before her brow puckered. “This arrangement is cramping my hand.”

“Want me to take over?”

Jill’s gaze shot to her. “No way. The last time you arranged something, I had to tear it apart and start over.”

“I’m not that bad anymore. I’ve been watching you. I’m sure I’ve improved.” She crumpled a sheet of tissue paper and flung it at Jill.

“Mmm-hmm. You keep telling yourself that, but leave the floral design to me. You stick to making bows and running the store.”

The bell on the entrance jingled. “I hope that’s UPS.” Kayla rushed through the swinging door into the main part of their shop and stopped mid-step. That was not their normal UPS guy. This one hummed a familiar worship song and walked with a bounce in his step.

He stopped humming when his eyes rested on hers. “Afternoon.” He handed her a small box. “Busy day.”

She tore her gaze from his twinkling azure eyes. “Yes, here, too.” She raised the box. “Thanks—I’ve been waiting for these.”

“Welcome. Have a good one.”

“Come again soon.” The last word died on her lips as she realized how ridiculous she sounded. He’d be back only if she had something shipped UPS. It wasn’t as if he were a customer.

He winked and strode his toned body out the door, then hopped into the large brown truck and rumbled down the road.

“Come again soon?” she muttered. He probably thought she was a nutcase, and today that wouldn’t be far from the truth. But, oh, he was something, and so polite, too. Kayla mentally ticked through her must-have list of qualities for a husband. Tall, handsome, kind eyes, sings, loves the Lord—

“Earth to Dreamer. Come in, Dreamer.” Jill waved a hand in front of her face.

Kayla blinked rapidly and stepped back. “What did I miss?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing. I haven’t seen that look on your face since.. .forever. What gives?”

“The new UPS driver caught my eye, and I made a fool of myself.”

I am always looking for people to add to my private influencer group on Facebook. If you’re interested in helping me spread the word about my books, please send me an email via my contacts page.

A Love Song for Kayla is listed with Kindle Unlimited, so if you subscribe to that service you can read this book for free. 🙂

Here is the Amazon link. http://amzn.to/2kl4Urd

 

The Matchmaker Brides Collection with Liz Tolsma

matchmaker-brides-coverPastor Len Montgomery receives an unusual letter from an Omaha farmer that turns him into the matchmaker he never wanted to be. But the match he most wants to make, the one with the town’s sweet, charming, and Shakespeare-quoting postmistress, may be out of his reach.

Liz Tolsma is the author of several WWII novels and prairie romance novellas. She is a popular speaker and an editor and resides next to a Wisconsin farm field with her husband and their two daughters. She enjoys reading, walking, working in her large perennial garden, kayaking, and camping. Please visit her blog, The Story behind the Story, at www.liztolsma.com and follow her on Facebook, Twitter(@LizTolsma), and LinkedIn. She is also a regular liz-tolsma-headshot-2contributor to the Pencildancer blog and the Midwest Almanac blog.

 

The Rich Man and the Orphan by Darlene Franklin

colorado-columbineTHE RICH MAN AND THE ORPHAN

Garnet Harvey graduates from an orphanage and lands a job as a nanny for three motherless girls. Chester Paul, a wealthy businessman, lost his wife in childbirth. After a long period of mourning, he hires a nanny to take care of his children while he works in the city. He remains involved in the girls’ daily lives, and comes to care for their new caregiver. When Garnet’s guardian discovers the situation, she insists on a trial separation. If their feelings remain strong, how can Garnet be introduced to Chester’s social circle? How will secrets from Garnet’s past affect their growing love for each other? Is it strong enough to grow as beautiful as the Colorado Columbine?

Best-selling hybrid author Darlene Franklin’s greatest claim to fame is that she writes full-time from a nursing home. This year she expects to reach fifty unique titles in print and she’s also contributed to more than twenty nonfiction titles. Her column, “The View Through my Door,” appears monthly in Bookfun Magazine. Her most recent titles are Colorado Columbine and Love’s Turning Point.

garnet-from-colorado-columbineEXCERPT

Jefferson County, Colorado 1911

The back of Garnet Harvey’s neck prickled as if someone were watching her as she walked down the long circular drive to the three-story mansion. Chester Paul’s house was fancy indeed. She hoped she would make a good impression on whomever was watching.

Stray hairs from the bun on top of her head tickled her face and neck. The magazine had promised the easy-to-care style would keep her hair in place. Garnet hoped it would make her look serious enough to be a nanny to three young girls.

The door came into view. “Lord, help me a do a good job for You and for Sister Carmela.”

A broad-chested lady with white hair and matching apron greeted her. “Oh, good. You must be Miss Harvey. I’m Mrs. Griffin, the cook. Come on in. Mr. Paul is eager to meet you.”

Mr. Paul. Garnet’s heart dropped. Her opportunity to move out of the girls’ home and find meaningful employment lay in his lap. Would he remember any of the times they had met before? “I hope to meet the girls as well.”

The cook chuckled, as if she’d discerned Garnet’s nervousness. “Mr. Paul is a kind man, although he’s a lion where those girls are concerned.” She looked Garnet up and down. “You’ll do fine. Sister Carmela wouldn’t send anyone but the very best.”

Links:

Purchase Colorado Columbine.

Website and blog

Facebook

Amazon author page

Twitter: @darlenefranklin