Maureen Lang's Blog, page 18

Here's the newest from my friend Trish Perry! Get in the Christmas spirit as the weather takes on a familiar crispness...

Bio: Award-winning novelist Trish Perry has written nineinspirational romances for Harvest House Publishers, Summerside Press, andBarbour Publishing, as well as two devotionals for Summerside Press. She hasserved as a columnist and as a newsletter editor over the years, as well as a1980s stockbroker and a board member of the Capital Christian Writersorganization in Washington, D.C. She holds a degree in Psychology.

Trish just released LoveFinds You on Christmas Morning, written with Debby Mayne. Her nostalgicromance novel, Unforgettable (SummersidePress), released in March and Tea for Two, Book Two in her Millicent'sTea Shop series (Harvest House), released in April. She invites you to visither at www.TrishPerry.com


About the book:  Love finds a home on Christmas morning in two heartwarming holiday stories.
Deck the Halls (DebbyMayne): In 1925, the wealthy William Tronnier becomes smitten with the lovelybut penniless Lillian Pickard. Not one to give up easily, William pursuesLillian even though she does everything in her power to resist falling in lovewith a man from a completely different social class. As Christmas descends onthe picturesque town of Cary, North Carolina, William plans to make Lillian aproposal she can't refuse.
 'Tis the Season (TrishPerry): When personal chef Nikki Tronnier moves back home to Cary, NorthCarolina, she plans to fulfill a lifelong dream and buy back the family homebuilt by her great-grandfather for his bride. But before she is able to make anoffer, someone else buys the house. Just as she prepares for a fight, shelearns that the very person who stole her dream is the man who has also stolenher heart. Unaware, handsome new owner, Drew Cornell, seeks Nikki's help inrestoring the home to its historic beauty in time for Christmas.



Online purchase links:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble CBD

Did I mention I'm researching Chicago as the possiblesetting for my next novel? The research phase, as usual, fascinates me! It's fullof violence, political corruption, vice . . . and a bit of virtue thatseparates it from Sodom and Gomorrah.
Let me start by telling you a little personal story. When Iwas in my twenties, I took a trip to Germany. While there, when I spoke to anyone—Germanor otherwise—they would usually ask what part of America I was from. More thanonce, when I said I was from Chicago, what association do you think they madewith this city? The Sears Tower was certainly up and operating, even back then.Chicago architecture has been famous as far back as the unique designs of FrankLloyd Wright. That would have been something really fine to be connected with.Or how about our hot dogs, or our pizza? Chicago style! No. What we were knownfor was Al Capone. I vividly recall one man immediately taking up an imaginarymachine gun and rat-tat-tatting it with a big smile while invoking Mr. Capone'sname.
Well, I'm sad to say the farther back in this city's historyI go, the more Capone-type figures I'm meeting. From Mayors who arranged toreceive campaign donations as kickbacks for keeping safe the illegal gamblinghalls to brothels that fed and supplied drinks and . . . shall we say, services. . . to beat cops so their establishment wouldn't be raided. It's all there. I read about thugs who paid immigrants and the homeless to vote a certainway—although in their own defense they did admit the actual voting process wasstill sacredly secret. But for a single drink (a beer for 35 cents) or,depending on the precinct, anywhere from a quarter to 3 dollars, a vote couldbe bought or sold. I guess there is a reason for the old Chicago saying to voteearly and vote often, since corruption was rampant almost from the start.
But though evidence of virtue seems more rare,there is some to be found. Jane Addam's Hull House, for one, a highlysuccessful settlement house that offered shelter, training and dignity to thosein need. In connection to that, there were many upstanding clubs, among them theJane Club that was a cooperative boarding group for young working women, sothey could support themselves for $3 per week. There was also the PacificGarden Mission, where people could find refuge and food and medical help, amidspiritual guidance.
By 1893 Chicago had proven itself to be one of America'ssparkling cities when it donned its best dressing for the ColumbianExposition/World's Fair commemorating the 400th anniversary ofChristopher Columbus's landing.
Chicago was referred to as an "exploding metropolis," andthat's certainly true of the 19th century. With rapid growth cameboth the effort to mimic the east coast (who was trying to mimic Europe) to thedens of thievery and corruption. If history is teaching me anything, it's thatmankind hasn't changed very much. We're all still a mix of good and bad, somewith a little more of one than the other.
So now I'm back to the books, before I head off for the ACFWconference in St. Louis later this week. Another city with a rich history, I'msure! If only I had time to explore it. . .

…well, at least through my research. I'd love to say I'm offto traverse the world in 80 days, but I'll be doing all of my traveling throughbooks.

Speaking of Around theWorld in 80 Days, did you know the famous Nellie Bly was the first to beatthat fictional record when she went around the world in 72 days, 6 hours and 11minutes? She started that journey in New Jersey on November 14th of1889 and returned on January 25th of 1890, having traveled almosttotally unescorted by steamboat and railroad (and burro!). It was a record that wouldn'tlast long, but the world followed her through cables she sent back to thepopular newspaper she worked for, The NewYork World. Her publisher even held a contest for readers to guess how longit would take for her to reach the next destination. The winner received a freetrip to Europe, and spending money as well.
An interesting side note is that Cosmopolitan heard about what Bly was doing and quickly sponsoredanother woman to beat the Jules Verne record. But while it took her 76 ½ days,beating the fictional record, she still came in behind Bly. Cosmo was fledgling in that day, justthree years old, but it's still circulating today, unlike The New York World whichstopped publication in 1931. There is some mystery as to whether or not Bisland,the Cosmo gal, was intentionally misled into believing she'd missed passage onone of the faster steamers out of London, when her publisher had paid thesteamship to wait for her. She ended up taking a slower boat back to New York, whileBly, coming from the opposite direction, was delayed two days due to a roughPacific crossing. She, too, had some help from the owner of her newspaper, onlythis help wasn't missed. He chartered a special train from San Francisco to NewJersey which, unlike Jules Verne's character, didn't run into delays along itsway by stampeding bison, dangerous bridges or wild Indians. She came straightthrough to fame, eventually heralded in NYC.
I don't know how anyone could not love history with storieslike that! And none of that is even going to make it into my next book. It'sjust an interesting sideline for me to visit as I start drawing the world mycharacters will inhabit.
Who knows where my whirlwind tour will take me? Although thecharacter I have in mind won't be a reporter, she will be a traveler of Bly'sfortitude. Will she go through India and have her hands tattooed with henna?Will she see some of the things Bly saw, like the leper colony in China and perhapspurchase a monkey somewhere along the way? Or will her journeys resemblePhileas Fogg's from the Verne tale? Through India on a railroad . . . and anelephant? Will there be rescues and adventure? Traveling the world must includesome of that! I have only to dive into some history and travel books to findout which unique adventures my character will experience.
And this is only the background!
No wonder I love writing. What other occupation can take meso many places without leaving the comfort of home? You'll have to excuse me, Ihave some adventures to dream about now . . .

This week I'm pleased to bring to your attention a new book by my friends and writing team Hannah Alexander. Let me just say I'm intrigued by this one, and I absolutely love the cover!



Against the backdrop of 1901 Eureka Springs, Arkansas, and the surrounding countryside, one simple kiss draws two people into a discovery that will forever change their lives.

Marriage seems the only option for Keara McBride and Elam Jensen after Keara's father gambles away her home and ends up in jail, and Elam's children need a mother's care. When the Jensens seal their vows at the altar with a kiss, however, their marriage of convenience seems much less convenient. The first kiss they share before a church filled with witnesses ignites a beacon of attraction that leaves them both feeling guilty. Elam's wife, Gloria--who was also Keara's best friend--has been dead less than a year. How can they betray her like this? And yet...oh, that kiss. When a stranger who bears a striking resemblance to Gloria shows up injured on the front porch on Elam and Keara's wedding night, the whole family is thrown into confusion, suspense and danger. But does this stranger also hold a key to the Jensens' future happiness?

Published by Summerside Press

To purchase, click here

Happy Labor Day! I guess for someone who works at home at a dream job I'm not the typical benefactor of this holiday. But in honor of this day off, I'm going to share some thoughts about Labor Day and how I came to have such thoughts in the first place.

I've been spending my days researching my next novel, which I started in the usual way. My next book is going to be set somewhere in the late 1880s or perhaps early 1890s. Since the setting is America, I pulled out my trusty Encyclopedia of American Facts and Dates. It's a book—yes, an actual paper-bound volume—that gives me, in chronological order, a brief overview of whatever era I'm targeting. It offers various facets of history: politics, culture, sports, nearly everything you can imagine. While it doesn't go into much detail, it gives me a starting place if something catches my eye to investigate if I think I might use it for my setting or characterization.

One thing that always amazes me when I do this is how much—and how little—things have changed. We've always had economic booms and busts, we've had unrest because of labor and race relations, we've had natural disasters and political scandal and famous thieves and philanthropists. Circumstances change, technology advances, but inside we're still the same.

But that's another story. What I noticed as I was doing my preliminary research was that Labor Day was made official in 1894, under President Grover Cleveland. Speaking of him, did you know he's the only president to serve two non-consecutive terms? He was first elected on the Democratic ticket in 1884, then lost his bid for re-election in 1888 to Benjamin Harrison. Was it a sweeter victory for Cleveland the second time around when he unseated Harrison, as Harrison had done to him four years before?

But that, too, is another story. One of Cleveland's challenges while he was in office the second time was labor unrest. It's true by any standard that big businesses took advantage of workers during the Industrial Age. Between low pay, long hours, unsafe conditions and child labor, I think we can all agree the people had a reason for the unrest back in that day. One particularly brutal strike was right here in Chicago, with the Pullman strike of 1894. Because of hard economic times, Pullman reduced wages in May. Workers struck, resulting in violent mobs that pillaged the area. In sympathy for the striking Chicago workers, a general railway strike followed. On July 3, President Cleveland, in an attempt to break the strike on the grounds that it interfered with postal services and commerce, sent US troops to Chicago to stop the strikers. Happy 4th of July! Needless to say, the mob didn't just start behaving. There was a battle and two men were killed and several injured. The troops weren't called out of Chicago until July 20. The strike officially ended a couple of weeks later, and nothing was settled. The wages were still cut.

All that is backstory to the first official Labor Day, which Cleveland agreed to in part perhaps because his method of sending in troops to stop a controversial strike was viewed as - shall we nicely say - harsh. The first state to start the Labor Day holiday was Oregon, in 1887, followed by New York and several other states. Cleveland made it a national holiday. I've put in a video below from the History Channel that explains the origins. For example, one of the reasons the date was chosen by an American union leader was that it filled the void between 4th of July and Thanksgiving. Now that's practical planning!

So take a moment to view the video, thanking God that although many things haven't changed, many things have. Labor Day isn't just a time for stores to have a sale, for us to put away our white shoes and pants, and as my husband says, put down the final fertilizer application, but to be thankful for how the workers of our country keep us all going.

So thank you!

As I mentioned earlier in the week, I was down with the flu . . . which turned into a cold . . . which still makes me want to sit on the couch or go back to bed instead of doing much else. All that to say, I've had a head full of other stuff instead of a head for any of the real work I do. (Okay, that just sounds silly. Sitting at the computer making up stories isn't real work according to some, even according to me on good days, but that's another topic all together.)



All excuses aside, I'm so happy to share with you, better late than never, the newest from my friend Margaret Daley. Don't miss the excerpt (below).



Happy Reading!

"A wonderful love story in the American Tapestries series with characters who are trying to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives after the War of 1812. Daley turns the ugliness of war into a new beginning for the ones who pick up the pieces. Her characters are willing to do what they need to in order to survive, but also are willing to give a friendly hand to those around them."

Reviewed By: Patsy Glans from RT

From This Day Forward

By Margaret Daley

Rachel Gordon is stranded in South Carolina, pregnant, a recent widow when her husband fell overboard on the voyage to America. Nathan Stuart, a physician who came home from serving in the American army during the War of 1812, disenchanted with his life and the Lord, rescues Rachel and saves her life. Feeling responsible for her, Nathan tries to discourage her from living at a rundown farm her husband bought to start a new future in America. He wants her to return to England.

Rachel refuses to go back to England where her father disowned her for marrying against his wishes. The farm is all she has, and she is determined to make it on her own. But Nathan has other ideas and becomes her farmhand to discourage her from staying in America. Instead he ends up protecting her and being challenged by her. Can two wounded people heal each other?

Chapter One Excerpt:

March 1816

"We are going to die," Rachel Gordon's young maid cried out.

Rachel looked up at the clouds rolling in. Dark, ominous ones. She shivered and pulled her shawl tighter about her as the breeze picked up. A storm brewed, and she still had several miles to go until she reached her new home in South Carolina. "God willing, we will make it, Maddy."

Fear deepened the lines on Maddy's plain face. "'Tis like the squall on the boat."

Lightning flashed, momentarily brightening the shadows of the forest. A clap of thunder rumbled the ground. Maddy screamed. The old gelding that pulled the cart—all Rachel's meager coins could afford—increased its speed, weaving from side to side. Out of control.

Determined to be there before nightfall and in one piece, Rachel gripped the reins and fought to slow the maddening pace of the horse. Finally it resumed its plodding step. The weather-beaten cart she had bought near the dock in Charleston hit a bump in the road, jostling her into Maddy. Her maid clutched the seat with one hand and held onto Rachel with the other.

Steadying herself, Rachel rested her wrists on her rounded stomach. She had more than herself and Maddy to worry about now. Her life had changed so much since she left her ancestral home in England. She had married, conceived a child, and was now a widow, all in the space of a year. And worse, she was going to a place she had never seen because she had nowhere else to go. Her husband had used most of their money to purchase this plantation she was traveling to. It was her future, whether she wanted it to be or not.

The warmth of a spring day quickly faded as the sky grew blacker. Rachel stared at the menacing clouds through the treetops and realized she would not make it to her new home before the storm broke. She scanned the area for a place to seek shelter.

Sinister shadows lurked just beyond the road. Again she shivered, her imagination conjuring images of wild animals staring at her from the depths of the forest. She'd heard stories about the bears. Huge. Fierce. Sharp teeth and claws. Shifting on the seat, she darted a glance from side to side, feeling as though she were some beast's next meal. She could not stop, even if it poured down rain.

Oh, how she missed England, with its gently rolling hills and refined beauty—not this raw wilderness. Like a fish floundering on land, she did not belong here. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this strange environment.

Drops of water spattered her. The wind picked up.

"That man on the boat told me about a big cat. They are out there." Maddy whimpered, draping her shawl over her head and hunching her shoulders. "Lord, have mercy on us."

Rachel forced herself to keep her gaze fixed on the road ahead. Once they were at the plantation Maddy would settle down. The squall two days out of Charleston had nearly sunk the ship they had traveled in. Surely this storm would not be as bad.

Taking deep breaths, Rachel calmed her racing thoughts and heartbeat. Pain spread through her lower back. She gripped the reins, the leather digging into her palms. The pain dulled to an ache. Another deep inhalation and the panic nibbling at her composure abated. Soon she would be at her new home and could sit in front of a warm fire, put her legs up, and rest. Hopefully the letter her husband had sent ahead would alert any staff to her arrival. Her glance strayed to the tall pine trees, swaying in the gust. Everything would be all right when she arrived at Dalton Plantation.

But even with Maddy next to her on the seat, the feeling she was the only person in the world overwhelmed her.

The wind picked up, whipping strands of her long brown hair that had escaped its coiffure about her face and threatening to whisk away her bonnet. Lightning zigzagged across the sky, followed by thunder. Maddy jumped in her seat. The gelding's ears flattened.

A chill embedded itself deep in Rachel. She arched her back to ease the pang still plaguing her. Suddenly lightning struck a tree nearby, its flash a beacon in the growing darkness. A crack as the pine split into two pieces echoed through the forest. Immediately afterward, a boom of thunder cleaved the air. Maddy shrieked. The horse increased its pace while a few more splotches of water splashed Rachel. Then all at once rain fell in gray sheets.

The gelding lurched forward even faster. Rachel grasped the reins, trying to maintain control. She pulled on the leather straps to slow the horse. Nothing. He kept galloping down the road, oblivious to his surroundings, as though the hounds of hell were nipping at his hooves.

Good Monday morning! I'm adding that exclamation point to exhibit a lot more energy than I have today. Yesterday afternoon I came down with the flu. Even after 12 hours in bed, I woke exhausted—but functional. Just don't ask me to fly up the stairs, chase the dog, or think fast (which, even on my best days can be a stretch).

Here are the things this flu bug is preventing me from doing:

1. Yesterday my publisher began a promotion to give away free electronic downloads of one of my most favorite titles: The Oak Leaves. Today I was going to announce it on various loops, Facebook, to friends and family. I hope to get to that either later today or tomorrow, when I'm sure to be feeling better. But here are the two links to get that started:

Kindle:

http://www.amazon.com/The-Oak-Leaves-ebook/dp/B000SEQIXQ/ref=sr_1_9?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1314621926&sr=1-9

Nook:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-oak-leaves-maureen-lang/1008294420?ean=9781414368894&itm=1&usri=the%2boak%2bleaves

For anyone new to this blog, let me tell you a little about this book. The Oak Leaves is probably closer to my heart than any other book I've written, because the crux of the challenge in all of the character's lives is Fragile X Syndrome – the disorder affecting my oldest son. It's not an autobiography by any means, but it does have a lot of me in it, simply because I wrote it from my own experience learning I was a carrier who had unknowingly passed on this disorder to my son. It was a book I didn't want to write, because it forced me to explore an area of my life that even today is a challenge, but it's one I needed to write. From the moment I knew I'd write that book, I felt God's blessing on it. So I'm thrilled it'll no doubt find some new readers with Tyndale's great new promotion for it.

2) Today I planned to start a final read-through of my current project, which I must say even as I feel so lousy I would be excited about doing if I had more energy. (Right now the only thing that looks really good is as I approach the bed or couch and get to relax for a little while.) But this book has been my most fun to date. It's a pure romance, with my heroine discovering her father earned most of his money through less than honorable—or legal—means. When he dies she has a choice: follow his legacy, one she didn't even know existed until after he died, or find a suitable husband who won't ask any questions about her heritage. And in the polite society of 1880 New York, that's asking quite a bit. People trying to emulate Europe's upper crust might have bent the rules about new money, but were amazingly fussy about who they let "in".

With that in mind, I was going to try a new trick my husband was telling me about from an article he read about memory. Since this book is obviously something I'm pretty familiar with, it's difficult to come to it with a fresh eye since I don't have the luxury of letting some time pass. The article on memory suggested if you're reading something and want to exercise your mind, try changing the font to something totally new and even a bit of a challenge to read. I was going to try that – well, I still will, but perhaps not until I'm feeling better.

3) I was going to write a completely fascinating blog post. The way I feel right now, I'm settling for a coherent one. I hope I succeeded.

I'm glad germs don't travel via cyberspace, at least not flu bug germs. I'd hate to pass this on to anyone I know, and have been washing my hands like crazy around my family.

Blessings on your day today — and if you think of it, send up a quick thanks if you have good health. :-)

This past week I happened to see a rather ugly news report about a bunch of sports fans who got into a fight while watching a game. (I turned the television off before hearing the details, so I don't even know where it was, who was playing, or even which sport.) But as I reached for that off button, it occurred to me how absolutely unattractive un-choreographed fighting appears to be. Definitely unlike the movies when heroes defending their honor or their heroine lean back for a well-planned punch, or a Rocky-like boxer receives a right jab to the jaw that sends a torrent of slow motion sweat showering off the boxer's cheek. These men in the news story just sort of flailed their arms, anger (and likely alcohol) contorting their faces. In fact, they looked a bit like children in a temper tantrum.

Of course my husband told me some real fights can look a lot more like the movies: hockey fights, for example, where the players have more experience at fighting.

But the short, unpleasant little snippet I saw on the news started me thinking. In books, as in movies, everything is choreographed. Every little piece fits the story like one giant puzzle. In a scripted fight on screen or on the page both parties are meant to portray something: the good guy courage, strength, stamina, the bad guy strength and stamina, too, but used for evil or domination or just plain meanness. In a movie both parties appear somewhat graceful. After all, if the audience is to be inspired to cheer for someone or root against someone else, you don't want it looking like a playground fight at a nursery school.

And so the writers and directors work out the details. We assign steps to our characters and choreograph every move we give them so they represent either the nobleness of a hero or the toxic force of the villain. Everybody has to live up to the part they're assigned to play.

Romantic scenes can be that way, too, not just fight scenes. Real life romance might be different from the larger-than-life romances filling screens or books, but the essence is similar and meant to be portrayed in a way that keeps the reader turning the pages or the viewer in their seat. For me, romantic stories remind me of how much I love my husband. They stir my heart and make me glad I found someone so worthy to be loved. So even if a romance is larger-than-life, the way most of fiction is, I know it's choreographed and so it works to entertain me.

There is only one kind of love we shouldn't try to choreograph. That's the love God offers. I think some of us picture limits on God's love, and yet when I look around at creation or when I think of what Christ did on the cross I'm reminded there's only one limit on God's love, and that's the condition that we accept it.

That's one dance that's just too big to be choreographed.

This summer, my family and I went on a real vacation. It wasn't a research-trip-disguised-as-a-vacation, although my youngest son did ask me if we'd come to the Poconos because I was setting a book there. What a skeptical child, to think his mother cannot take a real vacation. When I'd told my daughter and her friend about the destination the rest of us were headed for (she's out of the nest) I later found out after that chat ended she and her friend turned to each other and said: So where are the Poconos, anyway? One said, the Carolinas? Dakotas? Who knew? *See below for the answer.

They're obviously too young to remember the Poconos for its various heydays. Personally, I recall it as not only one of the most popular honeymoon capitols in the States, but the hottest resort town for New York celebrities. There was actually a heyday before that, which I didn't know about, in the last half of the nineteenth century and into the twentieth. The whole Pocono Mountain area attracted some of New York and Philadelphia's wealthiest families for the summer season. Natural beauty, fresh air and scores of fancy resorts drew the elites first by stagecoach and then by train.

Then the Great Depression hit. The area went into its first decline. Resorts closed, many of them burned down in the off-season so the cash-strapped owners could collect insurance money. It wasn't until a man named Fred Waring purchased one of the few remaining resorts in 1943 that the area saw another revival. I only barely remembered the Waring name, but when the tour guide said the "Waring Blendor" I vaguely recalled from my childhood the commercials for his famous blender.

Waring wasn't the inventor of the blender, just an effective promoter. He was a radio personality and a bandleader who knew lots of New York celebrities—whom he invited out to the Poconos. Soon the area was known for its beauty and fresh air again, and the east coast stars were attracted to the posh resorts. Honeymooners from all directions came, too, including the best known "honeymooner," Jackie Gleason.

It was an exclusive area right up until around the mid-1970s when air travel became more common than train travel. Wealthy vacationers decided to go to more exotic locales for their getaways—although while we were there, we did take advantage of a "Honeymoon Special": 2 hot dogs and 2 slices of pie for a nominal price. You might not automatically think of joining hot dogs and pie. It's not exactly peanut butter and jelly, eggs and bacon, or cake and ice cream, but I can personally vouch for it as a tasty meal.

So since the mid-70s the area has been declining again, mainly because the train line was converted to freight only. But since 9/11 a lot of city folk have decided it would be safer to live in the country, so it's becoming a bedroom community for New Yorkers. They're trying to get a commuter train stop back to Tinker Town (the Pocono stop that was built by the Irish, called "tinkers") but it's currently hung up in legal arguments among all the towns between New York and the Poconos.

After learning about the area's history I decided it might be a good setting for a book, after all. You know, you just can't take a writer anywhere without wondering if she'll use it for creative fodder…

I wanted to see a small waterfall near our resort (Buttermilk Falls) and had to cross this uneven bridge to get there. I was careful, though, since I didn't want to break my other ankle…

*I'd been hoping to hike at least a little of the Pennsylvanian Appalachian Trail that runs through the Poconos, but I was still recovering from my broken ankle. (Which, after five weeks now, is almost perfectly fine!)

This week's New Fiction offering may surprise some of my readers, but honestly this book just looks fascinating to me. Okay, so Amish vampires aren't your normal pick from an Inspirational author. But recently I was in on a discussion about what makes Christian fiction Christian. Must it contain an overt invitation to accept Christ as Lord and Savior? Do the characters have to find time to preach to the reader? Or is it simply a book offered by an writer who shares my Christian worldview? I tend to lean toward the latter.



So it's in that vein I introduce Leanna Ellis' latest work!

PLAIN FEAR:FORSAKEN

Leanna Ellis

Published by: Sourcebooks

Hannah Schmidt, a young Amish woman mourning the mysterious death of her beloved Jacob, must decide between two brothers, between good and evil. When she learns her first love is now the vampire Akiva, she must forsake him and cling to a new love, a lasting love, one that will save her soul.

Amish and vampires? Really? Yes, really. I'm asked a lot how this book came into being. Forsaken actually began as a joke. I was at a book signing and another author and I made a joke about how we should write an Amish/vampire story because those were the two genres that were selling so well. Well, it really was a joke. I didn't rush home and start writing the book. But I suppose some seed was planted in my warped little brain and took root. Soon a character was speaking to me about her story and wanting me to write it. I resisted. But there was a very intriguing element that I couldn't seem to ignore. To me, this was a Phantom of the Opera type story, with a love triangle, and a clear dividing line between good and evil. So I wrote the prologue and first chapter. Then I set it aside because I was busy meeting other deadlines. Besides, what was I to do with an Amish/vampire story? I mentioned it eventually to a couple of writer friends. They laughed, but in a good way and encouraged me to write it. Well, I wasn't so sure although I was becoming obsessed with the story. I spent a lot of time in prayer over this book, because I don't want to write something that God doesn't want me to write. Also, I knew I'd have to leave the Christian market and sell it in the secular market. I wasn't about to make that move without God's clear direction. And He began to show me in more ways than one that this was the book He wanted me to write. More than a year passed, and I was at a writer's conference minding my own business and not pursuing this story at all. An editor said the perfect submission would be…you guessed it! An Amish/vampire story. So I made an appointment to meet that editor and just talk about the idea. It almost felt like when an addict first admits she has a problem. I felt like I was teetering on the edge when I said, "I'm a writer and I've written an Amish/vampire story." Well, she requested it. What I love about this story is that it shows the battle of good and evil. Evil doesn't always appear with pitchfork and horns. Quite often, evil is appealing and attractive and hooks us in before we realize what has happened. Such is the case with my heroine Hannah. She simply loved a boy. But she opens her heart and her mind too easily and the consequences could be devastating. Even though this story is published in the secular world, it has a powerful spiritual message, a message the world needs to hear.

About Leanna:

Winner of the National Readers Choice Award, Leanna Ellis writes women's fiction. Known for her quirky characters and wacky plots, don't let the quirkiness fool you as Ellis probes deep in the heart and plucks at the heartstrings. She lives deep in the heart of Texas with her husband and children and an assortment of dogs and cats, including her crazy labradoodle, aka Hilo Monster, and her new kitten, Sawyer.

Amazon link to purchase Foresaken, click here

Read an excerpt of Forsaken here

Find Leanna on Facebook here

or visit Leanna's website