Maureen Lang's Blog, page 9

Photo from Bing Free Images

Every parent gets to hear that phrase from their child sooner or later, usually in protest when something isn’t going their way. I read an article recently that suggested babies as young as 15 months old seem to recognize unfairness when they see it.

Have you ever wondered why we seem to have this demand for fairness, almost as a reflex? Conservative or liberal, young or old, male or female, we all seem to notice when our basic sense of fairness is violated.

And yet we don’t have to look very far to realize life isn’t fair. It’s one of the things my sister and I have reminded our kids since they were little: Life’s not fair; get used to it. Sounds so harsh these days, doesn’t it? When we’d rather not see our kids have to face the fact that they’re not the fastest or the brightest or the prettiest person in class?

So we concentrate instead on what they’re good at, because surely most if not all can excel at something, and feel good about something. We can nurture confidence in ourselves and in others by recognizing our strengths and polish those talents to our utmost.

Fairness is even more of a challenge when we take it outside our family, when we look at the world and see what seems to be unfairness all around us. But what’s the answer? Take from some and give to others? That’s nice as long as you’re on the receiving end, but eventually even those who are on the receiving end will lose something—freedom to choose what they receive, for example. They’ll get what’s doled out.

Uh-oh, I’ve just gone into political waters and that isn’t what this blog is all about.

My thought for the day: maybe fairness is a sense of justice, put there because we’re made in God’s image and He is a just God. Can real fairness be found in justice? We’re not all equal, but we all deserve justice.

I’m not sure how that plays out in practicality, but maybe that’s one way to think about fairness.

There are two birthdays in our family this week: mine and Susie’s, our wonderful Labrador Retriever. Usually when February rolls around I’ll mention to my youngest son that it’s the beginning of a special month, and he’ll burst into a big smile and call the dog to remind her it’s her birthday month. Then with a grin he’ll add something like:  Oh, yeah, it’s your birthday month, too, isn’t it, Mom?

This year, since my birthday fell on the same day as the Super Bowl, we decided to invite some family members over for a pre-game meal and to watch some of the game together. My husband ordered a cake, I ordered some Italian beef and side dishes and we looked forward to the day.

Then this morning my husband made the astute observation that even though we’ll surely celebrate Susie’s birthday as well, she had no idea we’d arranged for guests to come. When they arrive, he said, she’ll be excited and happy, as if it were a surprise birthday party just for her.

And so she was. Every party is a surprise party for her!

Dogs may have some sense of anticipation—Susie certainly knows when it’s time to be fed, and she waits at the door for her best buddy, my youngest son, to come home at the end of the school day. But she never seems to anticipate anything bad. She even wags her tail to see the vet, the same vet who neutered her and gives her a shot every so often. She simply takes joy in the moments at hand rather than fretting about what’s to come.

While this weekend’s gathering was one of the easiest parties I’ve ever hosted, since most of the food was either purchased or brought in (my daughter brought a lovely salad we all enjoyed) I still had details to tend and preparations to make. I fretted a little anyway.

So I decided the older I get, the more I need to think like my dog. Anticipate only the good stuff and not even register the worries of life.

May this be a week when you think like a dog!

By the way, last week’s winners have all been notified and books have been mailed—all except for Debbie C. – so if you’re reading this, Debbie, let me know!

Debbie C.

Kristie

Brenda

Erin

Cheri

Congratulations!

I was telling a friend just the other day that my soon-to-be-released book, All In Good Time, wrote itself. Exaggeration? Yes—sort of. In comparison to some of the other books I’ve written, it really seemed true. This was one of those books where the research material generated so much drama that I had more than enough choices to slip the pieces easily into place. I’ve often said writing a book is like putting a puzzle together. It’s so much easier when you have all the pieces.

So this week I’m happy to announce that Maggie Rowe, my wonderful PR manager from Tyndale, sent to me some extra Advance Reader Copies—which means I have a few to give away! I’d love to give a copy to five different readers who won’t mind offering a review on such places as GoodReads, Amazon, B&N, or Christian Book Distributors. You can let me know if you agree that all of those puzzle pieces fit together.

Since the book isn’t officially releasing until April 1st, most online distributors won’t accept reviews until after the release. But GoodReads accepts reviews any time, so that might be a great place to start if you win a free copy!

 

Here’s the back cover from All In Good Time, to let you know what the story is all about:

Dessa Caldwell has a dream:

to open Pierson House, a refuge for former prostitutes in Denver’s roughest neighborhood. But after exhausting all charitable donations, Dessa still needs a loan. Her last hope hinges on the owner of Hawkins National Bank.

 

Henry Hawkins has a secret:

he owns the most successful bank in town, but his initial capital came from three successful stage coach robberies. Though he’s Denver’s most eligible bachelor, to protect his past, he’s built a fortress around his heart that no one can penetrate . . . until the day Dessa Caldwell strolls into his bank requesting a loan.

 

Though he’s certain her proposal is a bad investment, Henry is drawn to Dessa’s passion. But that same passion drives her to make rash decisions about Pierson House . . . and about whom she can trust. One man might hold the key to the future of her mission—but he also threatens to bring Henry’s darkest secrets to light. As the walls around their hearts begin to crumble, Henry and Dessa must choose between their plans and God’s, between safety and love.

 

So how do you enter? I’m using my favorite helper, Punchtab!

 

 

This week I’m thrilled to bring you a peek at Jill Eileen Smith’s new book! I can’t wait to read this one, since Jill is one of my favorite authors (and friends!).

Rebekah

4 Stars from RT Book Reviews

Can love heal the rift between two souls?

When her beloved father dies and she is left in the care of her conniving brother Laban, Rebekah knows her life has changed forever. Though she should be married by now, it’s clear that Laban is dragging his feet, waiting for a higher bride-price to line his pockets. When she is given a chance to leave her home to marry Isaac, a cousin she has never even seen, Rebekah’s hope for the future is restored. Little does she know what a wondrous and heart-wrenching journey she is beginning.

As Rebekah experiences the joy of young love and the bitterness of misunderstanding and betrayal, her resolve will be tested. When the rift between her and Isaac grows so wide it is surely too great to be mended, can she trust the God of Isaac’s father Abraham to bridge the gap?

About the author:

Jill Eileen Smith is the author of the bestselling Michal, Abigail, and Bathsheba, all part of the Wives of King David series, and of Sarai and Rebekah books 1 and 2 in the Wives of the Patriarchs series. Her writing has garnered acclaim in several contests. Her research into the lives of biblical women has taken her from the Bible to Israel, and she particularly enjoys learning how women lived in Old Testament times. Jill lives with her family in southeast Michigan.

Bonus Features:

Bible Study Questions: http://www.jilleileensmith.com/books/rebekah/bible-study-questions/

Discussion Questions: http://www.jilleileensmith.com/books/rebekah/discussion-questions/

Preview: http://www.jilleileensmith.com/books/rebekah/preview/

Behind the Scenes: http://www.jilleileensmith.com/books/rebekah/behind-the-scenes/

Buy the Book:

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Christian Book

And wherever fine books are sold.

Over the weekend my husband read an article to me about a race car driver who introduced himself to reporters this way: “I’m Darrell Wiltrip, and I’m here to take Richard Petty’s place.”

That was more than just confidence, since at the time Richard Petty was in his prime as the top race car driver. That would be like a first time Christian novelist after winning a writing contest saying in their acceptance speech that they were there to take Karen Kingsbury’s place.

I suspect that unless “DW” (Darrell Wiltrip) was able to back up his bravado with some impressive skills, the reporters hearing him that day would have just chuckled and forgotten the entire incident.

But is that all someone needs to achieve success with their dreams? Talent and confidence? I’m sure success is more elusive than that simple formula, but whatever the other ingredients are, I’m equally sure those are two of the must-haves.

In my local ACFW chapter meeting last week, author Allie Pleiter introduced us to a goal-setting worksheet that underscored what I’m talking about. Beside choosing goals based on passion, I was struck by the fact that those who successfully set and meet their goals are people who believe their goals are attainable. You can bet DW thought he was capable of taking Richard Petty’s place as the king of racing, and did everything he needed to do to make that happen.

In her goal-setting session, Allie explained that it isn’t so much the secular idea of “good energy attracting good energy” or other such mystical phenomena, but rather if you have the mindset that your goals are attainable you’ll be more aware of the resources around you to make them happen—and you’ll seize more opportunities because you see them. It’s key to actually believe you can achieve what you want to achieve, otherwise your mindset won’t even recognize all of the resources you have or come in contact with.

I’ll give an example inspired by a book I read when I was in fourth grade (unfortunately I can remember neither the title nor the author, shame on me since I know how important that is, but I blame the forty years that have gone in between then and now). Anyway, an overweight girl set a goal to reduce her size and so she pinched her pennies until she could afford a dress she liked that was two sizes smaller than she could fit into. Money was as tight as her panties, so wasting her precious allowance on a dress she could never wear just wasn’t going to happen. The dress was a visual reminder of what she was working toward, and every day she imagined herself in that dress. By the end of the book she fit the dress—because she believed she could do it. She used her resources (her allowance, which she previously spent on snacks at the movie theater) toward her goal in a way she might not have thought to do had she not believed she could achieve her goal in the first place.

So . . . do you have any DW in you? We may not want to be bold or brash, but I think all of us could use a little DW.

Sing about your confidence with Julie Andrews!

I’m excited to tell you about my favorite Christmas gift! It was from my daughter, who saw a project on Pinterest and perfected it to make it easy. Taking digital images of each cover of my books, she made lovely artwork of them. Here’s the finished look now hanging in my office, and just below that I’ll tell you how she did it:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Material Needed:

Digital image of your choice

A color printer

Copy Paper, 8 1/2 x 11 – doesn’t matter what kind or even if it’s scratch paper. You’re only using it to allow the tissue paper to feed through the printer, and will then cut it away.

Craft foam brush

Plaid (brand) Mod Podge (This is a water-based sealer, glue and finish all in one and available at any craft store like Hobby Lobby). There are some choices here, whether you choose a flat/matte, slight sparkle or glossy finish. My daughter used the slightly sparkled, but the sparkle isn’t really noticeable unless the light is aimed right at it.

Tissue paper, the kind you use to line gift boxes with. She used white for mine, but used an off-white or light beige color for a black and white picture that also turned out well.

Scotch tape

Art canvas stretched to an 8×8 size. Available at any craft or art store.

Craft paint and small paint brush to cover the white edges, where desired or necessary.

Procedure:

Cut large pieces of tissue paper in half (a half sheet is shown on the ironing board) then iron any wrinkles away. As you can see, the center fold leaves a line from the way the tissue paper is folded upon purchase. That’s what she ironed out. Ironing seemed dangerous to me at first, since tissue paper is surely flammable. But with the iron set on low it wasn’t a problem at all. The tissue paper ironed perfectly! The main thing is not to have any wrinkles.

Tape the tissue paper around a regular sized piece of copy paper. As I mentioned, the paper could have printing on it already (scratch paper). Make sure the tissue paper is secure by pressing the crease at the top end where it will feed into the printer, and that there is no excess to gum up the works, then use scotch tape to secure.

Place the paper into your printer (face down on my printer – just make sure it’s correctly positioned for the image to print right on to the tissue).

Important: Since this is an image, your printer should give you the option to SCALE. You’ll want to check the box to FILL ENTIRE PAPER so you’ll have a minimum of white space and the image will cover the 8 x 8 size of your canvas.

After it comes out of the printer, trim along the edges where there will be a small section of white, unprinted area and slip the paper out, leaving you with only the tissue paper. Set aside while you prepare the canvas.

Using a foam brush, put a thin and even layer of Mod Podge over your 8 x 8 canvas (no lumps, streaks or lines).

Position the printed tissue paper carefully over the prepared canvas, smoothing out any wrinkles. The tissue paper is pretty easy to work with, though you have to be careful not to tear it so be gentle. It might bubble a little but will flatten completely as it dries. This wasn’t a problem for me when I helped on one.

 

Once you’ve positioned your tissue onto the canvas, add another thin, even layer of Mod Podge over this.

 

Then let dry for 24 hours.

 

 

 

 

To keep the individual canvases straight and for easy hanging, my husband staple-gunned a mesh wiring to connect them at the back.

If you choose the canvases that are stretched over wood frames, as my daughter did shown here, very likely your top and bottom edges will be covered with the image you’ve selected, but the side edges will still be white (showing the canvas). I painted the edges a complimentary color to hide the white, but the way I have them hung you can only see the ones on the outside of the montage anyway, if at all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can choose to Mod Podge your image to any surface, even thinner canvases or notebooks or sturdy cardboard. Wherever you imagine your covers or your digital image, you can paste it on! The size is limited by the size your printer can handle to print, but the possibilities are many.

 

As you can tell, I was thrilled with the result. My daughter also made images of favorite album covers for her husband, and is planning to create cover art of favorite children’s books for my special-needs child who loves Clifford and Peter Pan. If you’d like to create artwork at a very reasonable price, this is the project for you! The ones shown above cost less than $5.00 each. You can use whatever artwork you have from your camera or any digital images you create and can print.

 

This project was not only fun, it created memorable artwork for me that I’ll enjoy for years to come.

This week I’m pleased to bring you the latest from my colleague Cheryl Wyatt! Her newest title is from Love Inspired, titled Doctor To the Rescue. Sounds like a fun read—so take a peek at the first chapter excerpt that Cheryl included, and don’t miss the recipes at the end! Those Mountain Dew Apple Dumplings sound so yummy…

ABOUT THE BOOK:

Publisher: Love Inspired (Dec 18, 2012)
ISBN-13: 9780373877904

Combat doctor Ian Shupe returns home from overseas with his most important mission: to raise his little girl. But Ian’s a single dad, and working at Eagle Point’s trauma center means having to find child care. When bighearted, struggling lodge owner Bri Landis offers babysitting in exchange for construction work, Ian accepts. He vows to keep his emotional distance from Bri, yet can’t deny that his daughter is blossoming under her tender care. But is he ready to believe that his heart’s deepest prayer may finally be answered?

 

Eagle Point Emergency Series:

Saving lives—and losing their hearts—in a small Illinois town.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Born Valentine’s Day on a Navy base, Cheryl Wyatt writes military romance. Her debuts earned RT Top Picks, a Reviewers Choice Award, a Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence final and #1 and #4 on Harlequin’s Top 10 Most-Blogged-About-Books, lists which included NYT Bestsellers. Sign up for her newsletter for yummy story recipes and other fun stuff exclusive to newsletter subscribers at www.cherylwyatt.com. Cheryl loves interacting with readers and often plots mayhem with them on her reader-centric Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/CherylWyattAuthor

 

BOOK PURCHASE LINKS:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Doctor-Rescue-Inspired-Cheryl-Wyatt/dp/0373877900#

 

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/doctor-to-the-rescue-cheryl-wyatt/1112126256?ean=9780373877904

 

Christianbook.com: http://www.christianbook.com/doctor-to-the-rescue/cheryl-wyatt/9780373877904/pd/877904?product_redirect=1&Ntt=877904&item_code=&Ntk=keywords&event=ESRCP

 

FIRST CHAPTER EXCERPT:

 

Bri Landis’s pulse lurched like the ladder beneath her feet.

With her waist at roof level, she clawed at the eaves of her run-down lake lodge, understanding her brother Caleb’s caution to never climb alone. Heart thumping, Bri clutched the gutter. Ominous buckling. No!

It ripped free in a spray of rust and screeching metal. Screams tore through her as she plummeted…into a bush.

Bri could only gulp. Blink. Moan. She should have listened to her brother, she thought. Caleb was overseas on army medic duty instead of here at home in Eagle Point, Illinois, witnessing Bri make friends with her favorite shrub.

Now the shrub was squished and she was sprawled in it, lamenting her long hair. She disentangled her blond hair, then struggled to get upright amid a sharp sea of scarlet. Sweat beaded her forehead despite late-December’s chill.

Her untimely ladder escapade put a painfully ironic twist on this being the last day of “fall.”

Bri emerged, corky twigs crackling and biting like spindly wooden teeth. Jagged underbrush snagged her brother’s favorite hoodie. Bri pulled it from the branches holding it hostage. Gasp.

Pain seared her left arm. She slid the cuff and looked at it. Unnatural angle. Disbelief slid through her like the ladder off the roof. No question: arm broken.

And with it all hope of meeting the bank’s deadlines.

Dismay ran through her. Saving Landis Lodge— Eagle Point’s only retreat center and her family heritage—from foreclosure, meant renovating and renting seven cabins by mid-February. Roughly one cabin a week. She’d sold the daycare she owned in Chicago and moved home to make it happen.

Now days from Christmas, she risked losing the last thing her late mother loved—the lodge Bri had inherited and promised to save. No way could she afford contractors.

Her teeth chattered. “Where’s my stupid phone?” She needed help ASAP.

Forget going back into the bush to find her phone. A new trauma center sat right next door. Bri held her arm high and stationary and bolted from her yard, not caring if she resembled a maniac.

Eagle Point Trauma Center came into view over a leafy hill.

She’d never been so glad to see a modern facility nestled against rustic Eagle Point Lake, stately risen bluffs, scenic trails and seriously fun caves. The serene landscape of Bri’s childhood home calmed her against the mind-bending pain gnawing her arm.

Halfway to EPTC, dizziness hit Bri. She fell to her knees and clung to a parking barricade.

“She’s hurt!” someone yelled across the lot. Bri couldn’t be sure who it was. Nausea sent her face between her knees. Rapid footsteps pounding nearby pavement competed with the pulse swooshing her ears. Strong hands gently braced her shoulders. “Hey, you okay?”

Her bad day just got worse.

Bri blinked up into the stunning aqua eyes of the absolute last person she wanted seeing her in this state. Dr. Ian Shupe.

Yet, for the first time since meeting him weeks ago, concern and compassion emanated from the tall, dark and imposing anesthesiologist’s normally sullen eyes.

“What happened, Bri?”

“Ladder slid. I f-fell,” she puffed past savage pain. Ian’s assessing eyes quickly roved over her. “How far?”

Tremors overtook her. “Maybe nine feet.”

Did his face just pale? For sure, his jaw tightened. Probably thought she was an idiot. Ian’s warm fingers felt soft yet strong and capable as they examined her elbow.

Kate, the center’s surgical nurse, skidded in, dropped to her knees, took one look at Bri’s injured arm and gave Ian a pointed look.

He nodded once. “Already saw it. Get a gurney and splints.”

“Will do.” Kate flashed Bri a strength-infusing smile, then dashed back toward the trauma center.

“C-collar, too,” Ian called to Kate, then faced Bri again. Broad shoulders and impressive arms obviously well acquainted with a gym flexed and bunched as he maneuvered closer, training his eyes on her. His firm strength and sure demeanor erased her fears and convinced her that despite his terse reputation she was in good hands. “Where do you hurt most?”

“My left forearm. But I think I can walk the rest of—”

“No. In fact, don’t move.” Ian shirked off his suit coat, its raven color identical to his black military-style hair. Coat spread on asphalt, he settled Bri on it. His palms became her pillow. His gesture soothed. “Did you land on concrete?”

She started to shake her head but stopped when Ian’s thumbs pressed against her temples, keeping her neck still.

“No. I landed in the waiting arms of a winged eu-onymus.”

“A what?” Confusion amped up his cuteness.

“Big red hedge. More widely known as a burning bush.”

A congenial nod seemed out of character for his usual surly self. His fingers kneaded and prodded her bones and muscles. Fierce concentration knit his brows. Had he any idea how handsome he was in doctor mode? Her arm might be broken, but nothing was wrong with her eyes. Bri chided herself for noticing the good doctor’s bad-boy looks.

Not only had military deployments and divorce left him notoriously difficult and brooding, Bri’s heart still felt raw after the end of a bad relationship with a verbally abusive boyfriend.

Her move from the Chicago suburbs to downstate Illinois had finally given her the long-needed courage to break up with Eric two months ago. If only he’d stop calling and harassing her. Dr. Shupe’s abrasive manner reminded her too much of Eric. Except, Ian wasn’t being curt and caustic now, but gentle and thorough.

Bri huffed at the physical exam. “Nothing’s numb. Or tingly. Or blurry. I didn’t hit my head or black out, either.”

Ian’s mouth twitched. Wrestling back a smile? She’d love to see it. She didn’t think him capable of glee before now.

Bri sighed. “Sorry. Caleb’s injury training wears off on me. I’m his study buddy and procedural guinea pig. He splints, tags, bandages, braces and bores the living daylights out of me for his military medic certifications and field practice exams.”

The humor whispering along Ian’s lips in a near smile spread to his eyes now, deepening them to a breathtaking blue. They turned serious and probing. “What were you doing on the ladder?”

“Renovating the lodge. Replacing eaves.” Or attempting to.

“By yourself?”

Here came the lecture. She got enough of those from Caleb over her fierce determination to save Landis Lodge.

If she lost the lodge, she might also lose the memories, especially of childhood with Mom. Grief knotted her throat.

“Who else do I have?” She bit her lip as Ian’s eyebrows rose. But she had valid reasons to grouch. Her ex was a dud, her dad a deadbeat, her mom was deceased, her brother was deployed and a bank breathed ultimatums down her back. Now a broken arm ordeal that she didn’t have time for. But it could have been much worse. Lord, thank you for cushioning my fall.

“Who’s on call?” Bri instantly regretted her words. “You’re obviously off duty and not who’d take care of me, since you’re an anesthest—however you say it. I won’t need one of those, right?”

Ian’s vague expression did not make her feel good.

Lord, please don’t let me need surgery. Ian’s inexplicable rudeness since she’d moved back here proved she wouldn’t be his first choice in a patient.

Her new friends, Lauren and Kate, had told her that Ian only acted abrasive because he was attracted to Bri in the wake of his unwanted divorce. Gibberish.

On the other hand, the girls had to be in the know, since they were nurses on Ian’s trauma team. Plus Lauren’s fiance, Mitch, was Ian’s best friend and lead trauma surgeon on the team. Ian suddenly flashed a penlight at her eyes, dotted with… “Fairy stickers?”

He smiled wryly. “My little daughter put them there.” The five-year-old he’d been embroiled in custody battles over. Ian would probably freak if he knew how Bri knew about that. She focused on the fairies to distract from excruciating arm pain.

Kate arrived with a gurney and supplies. After applying the neck brace, she brandished a pair of bandage scissors.

“Don’t cut my hoodie! It’s Caleb’s keepsake. Please, I have a tank top underneath.” The world went sideways as they rolled Bri onto a backboard before righting her. Kate texted someone.

“I’ll try. No guarantees.” Ian eased the hoodie off and splinted her arm as if he’d done it a hundred thousand times. Probably had, overseas during combat surgeries.

“Didn’t realize you could do all that being an anest—that.”

Ian’s mouth thinned into another smirk.

Kate leaned toward his ear. “Since your final custody hearing’s in an hour, I paged the nurse-anesthetist on call.”

Ian glanced at his watch. Scratched his jaw. Addressed Kate in low tones. Bri heard mention of her brother’s name. Caleb had commissioned Ian to watch over her when he deployed last week. Why Ian? Especially in light of Ian’s hostility toward her.

Then Caleb had suddenly dubbed Ian her bodyguard? What was up with that? She didn’t need to be protected. Or babysat.

Ian plucked sage twigs, fiery leaves and feathers from her hair. “Nest?”

“Almost.” Kate winked and strode in her usual militant but graceful fashion. How Kate could be runway-model pretty and a black belt was beyond Bri, but Kate was someone Bri was glad to know. Except she aimed a needle at her now.

Bri squished her eyes until the worst was over. Eyes open, she realized she’d not only grabbed Ian’s arm but left crescent marks. Bri recoiled, fearing an acrid verbal assault like ones Eric was prone to.

But Ian didn’t seem fazed. Calmly and gently, he wiped his arm with sterile gauze.

Perhaps Bri’s friends had been right: the craggy, abrasive creature she’d experienced for the past few weeks wasn’t the real Ian.

***

Ian refused to react to the sting of Bri’s nails. She was anxious, hurting and stressed, so her actions were understandable.

Odd, though, her latching onto him for comfort so easily. Especially since he’d been a total jerk to her for weeks.

Not liking the claws of guilt scraping at him, Ian adjusted Bri’s IV drip and faced Kate, jotting Bri’s vitals. “She needs antibiotics, trauma labs, X-rays and CTs stat.”

Kate nodded. They effortlessly hefted the backboard to the gurney and push-ran Bri, who was so tall her heels almost hung off the end.

Kate’s cell chimed. Without missing steps, she answered. “Hey, wanna start this way? Ian needs to cut out and we have an incoming ladder mishap. Yeah. Lodge owner next door.”

“Lisa, my nurse anesthetist.” Ian couldn’t miss this court hearing. Yet he couldn’t leave Bri. Her condition could skid off a cliff without warning. Eighty percent of people falling from heights of eleven feet or more died. She’d fallen nine. Internal injuries didn’t always present right away.

He’d learned that the hard way, overseas while deployed with Mitch, Kate and other air force trauma-team members who had yet to join them at EPTC, Mitch’s stateside endeavor.

“Why would I need an anesthes—that thing?” Bri swallowed.

Ian glanced down, resisting the urge to rest a calming hand on hers. “In case the need arises to surgically repair your arm.”

She had no clue that could be the least of her worries. Part of his job, for now, was to keep her clueless. If she were bleeding internally, increased anxiety could speed her pulse, hasten hemorrhage and put her life at risk.

“The break is bad, isn’t it?” Dread crinkled her forehead. “How soon can I use my arm?”

Ian’s determination sparked. “Only after it’s healed.”

Bri tensed and licked her lips. “And when will that be?”

Inside EPTC, they wheeled Bri into a trauma bay. “Depends on if soft tissue is involved or just bone. Six weeks minimum.”

“Six week—” Choked on the words, Bri tried to sit up. Kate restrained her. “I’ll never make the deadline!”

She must mean foreclosure proceedings. Caleb had filled Ian in. Bri’s face strained as he studied her. Sensing her struggle, Ian squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, then stepped out. Simple gesture. Sincere. Yet it seemed to make her want to cry more.

He wished he could help, but he had his own stuff going on. Deadlines from every direction. Work, plus training, plus helping set up a second trauma crew so EPTC didn’t lose vital funding.

Then there was Tia, his only daughter and number one priority. She should have been all along, but a mentally unstable mother and a cross-continental war had caused him to be a stranger in his daughter’s eyes.

Ian’s gut clenched. Sweat misted his palms. If he didn’t show in court today, that could put him in jeopardy with the judge who would decide Tia’s fate and their future as a family.

He eyed his watch, and hoped Lisa would get here soon or he’d be faced with abandoning a patient and breaking a battlefield promise to a brother-in-arms. Stress drove him to walk halls.

After pacing, Ian parked his anesthesia cart outside Bri’s bay. Regret multiplied. He’d promised Caleb to watch over her. He’d failed. He owed Caleb. Big-time. Ian reentered Bri’s room, intent on righting his wrong. “You hangin’ in there, Bri?”

Not until seeing her under fluorescent lighting did he realize how white-blond and silky long her hair was. Blinking swiftly, she aimed her pretty cornflower-blue eyes up at him, making him momentarily forget what he came in here for. Must be lack of sleep from a week’s worth of on-call nights. “Dr. Shupe, what turned me too stupid to heed Caleb’s warning?”

He wanted to chuckle. “It’s Ian. And trust me, my list of stupid things is twice as long as yours. Kate’s is triple.”

Kate snorted from the corner of the room and stepped out. Bri’s face sobered. “Seriously, what stripped my common sense today?”

“Could be the ominous bank notices you’ve been getting recently.”

She stared long and hard at him. “You know about that?”

He nodded. Bri lost the battle holding in her tears the second Kate came in carrying X-rays and a sympathetic expression. “Sorry, Bri. The bones aren’t aligned, so surgery is a must.”

Ian knew that could double her recovery time and triple her chances of losing the lodge. Compassion for Bri and Caleb washed over Ian. They had just lost their mom and were about to lose their childhood home and heritage. Not to mention the community was about to lose an iconic retreat center that once was, according to Mitch, the bustling pulse of the rustic, close-knit community.

The bank had planned to shut down and level the Lan-dis family’s grounds, which included the main lodge, fourteen cabins and seven bunkhouses.

His morning runs around Eagle Point Lake revealed the retreat as a flat horizontal triangle. The main lodge made the point, seven cabins on either side angled out in two lines and bunkhouses formed a bottom line opposite the lodge.

“Bri, if you’re worried about losing the lodge, don’t be.”

Surprise flashed across her face. Tears welling up meant he’d hit a nerve. “Your cabins need to be fixed. I worked construction in college. Let me help.”

“I don’t accept anything for free.”

“You can’t be serious?” The stubborn set to her jaw said she was. “Fine. Caleb mentioned you have a childcare degree. I need a permanent sitter for Tia. Problem solved.”

“You mean, like a barter?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. Think about it.”

The next moments were a flurry of activity as Bri was assessed, prodded, questioned, medicated, primped with surgical garb and prepped.

Ian smiled at her. Her vitals had calmed after he’d proposed the barter. It could work. He’d just have to be brutal with his time, which meant no entertaining, no socializing and definitely no dating.

Lisa rushed up, tying her mask. “I’m here, Ian. Shoo.

Go.”

Bri hyperventilated at the O.R. doors. Understandable, since, according to Caleb, their mom died in surgery. Ian brushed fingers along Bri’s hand. She clutched him in a death grip. “Please don’t tell Caleb I broke my arm. I’m scared it’ll distract him in combat. I can’t lose another family member. He’s all I have.” Her raw voice disintegrated.

That she was more concerned for her brother than for herself hit Ian to the core.

He held on to her fingers as long as he could. He was already late for court, and her orthopedic surgeon waited not so patiently. But Bri’s pleading eyes really got to him.

But, he had to get to court.

He also had to call her brother. If she had complications in surgery or under general anesthesia, they’d need directives from family. She’d be mad, but being a doctor wasn’t a popularity contest. It meant making hard decisions that sometimes caused pain. He averted his gaze.

“Ian, Caleb can’t know I’m in surgery. Okay?”

 

Eagle Point Emergency Recipes:

Mountain Dew Apple Dumplings Ingredients:  2 apples sliced and cored. 2 sticks butter. 2 cups sugar. 2 tsp cinnamon. 2 cans croissant rolls. 1 can Mountain Dew. Directions: Preheat oven to 350. Spray bottom of 9 by 13 pan. Glass works best but isn’t crucial. Peel and core apples. Slice each into 6-8 pieces depending on how many croissant triangles per tube. Wrap each apple slice in a croissant triangle. Place in two rows in 9 by 13 baking pan. Melt butter, cinnamon and sugar together then mix and pour mixture over wrapped dumplings. Pour ½ to ¾ can of Mountain Dew around the perimeter and bake at 350 for 45 minutes. For crisper dumplings, bake at 375 for 30 minutes. Serve alone or with vanilla ice cream on top. This is a quick and easy potluck recipe. Enjoy!

Southwestern Meatloaf Ingredients: 3 pounds ground chuck or turkey. 1 tall sack of crushed crackers, Saltine-type. 1 large onion. Salt, pepper & garlic to taste. 1-2 eggs. 1 small can tomato sauce. 1 small can green chilies diced. Mix together and shape like bread loaf or leave flat in baking pan. Cook at 350-375 for 45 minutes. Remove and spread Ketchup over the top. Put back in oven and cook for another hour or until meat is done. Enjoy! When you place the pan in oven, be sure to put it on a baking sheet to catch any grease that bubbles over. No oven fires desired. LOL!

Enchilada Pie 3 lbs ground chuck or turkey. 1 lb shredded cheddar cheese. Corn tortillas. Salt. Pepper. Garlic. Fry or brown meat in skillet. Season with salt, pepper and garlic. Finely chop 1 large onion. Drain meat grease off after cooked. Layer 6 yellow corn tortillas or white corn in 9 by 13 pan in two rows of three. Add a layer of meat, use about half of it. Then sprinkle on half the diced onion. Pour two cans of enchilada sauce over that. Old El Paso red, mild is best in my opinion. Sprinkle layer of shredded cheddar cheese next. Use about half your cheese. Start the layering process over in lasagna fashion. Tortillas, meat, onions, sauce, cheese, in that order. Cook at 350 to 375 for 45 minutes. After cooked, if desired, garnish with lettuce and tomato. Can substitute red meat with chicken or ground turkey for a healthier meal. Can also use flour tortillas rather than corn.

Banana Bars Ingredients: ½ cup butter or Margarine softened. 11/2 cup sugar. 2 eggs. 1 cup (8 ounces) sour cream. 1 teaspoon vanilla extract. 2 cups flour. 1 teaspoon baking soda. ¼ teaspoon salt. 2 medium ripe bananas mashed, about 1 cup. For frosting: I package 8 ounce cream cheese softened. ½ cup butter or Margarine softened. 2 tablespoons vanilla extract. 4 cups powdered sugar. Process: In mixing bowl, cream butter and sugar. Add eggs, sour cream and vanilla. Combine flour, baking soda and salt. Gradually add to the creamed mixture. Stir in bananas. Spread into greased 15inch by 10inch by 1inch baking pan. Bake at 350 for 20-15 minutes until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Frosting: in a mixing bowl, beat cream cheese, butter and vanilla. Gradually beat in enough powdered sugar to achieve desired consistency. Frost bars. Store in refrigerator. Yields 3-4 dozen.

 

Happy New Year! I can’t think of a better way to start a new year than as part of a blog hop with a string of friends. What could be better than taking the opportunity to learn about new projects various authors are working on these days? If you found me via Angela Hunt’s stop, great! If so, you’re already familiar with the questions each of us have been answering regarding our newest project. If not, just read on for a peak into my next book, All In Good Time. Don’t forget to look for the links at the bottom for the next “hop stop” for three friends of mine where they’ll be talking about their upcoming novels next week.

 

So here goes:

What is the working title of your book?

All In Good Time, and it’s set to release on April 1st.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

This one came while doing research for another project. I was reading about bank robbers and highwaymen in the Old West and became fascinated by a bandit who single-handedly robbed a coach line three times in the same canyon by fashioning sticks into what resembled rifles he placed high above in the rocks and boulders. Drivers and passengers handed over their goods, fearing the robber or his “cohorts” would shot them from above. It was clever and daring, but somehow benign enough to inspire a hero with hope of redemption.

 

What genre does your book fall under?

I have to admit my preference in historical romance is to keep the characters apart as long as possible (anticipation being more than half the pleasure) so much of the story builds on the hope of them getting to that happily-ever-after-ending.

 

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

For my heroine, Olivia Wilde has the right look and for my young coach-robber-turned-Scrooge-like-banker, a young Hugh Jackman (minus the Aussie accent, of course!). I haven’t yet seen him in Les Misables so I’m not sure if his latest look is what I’ve been picturing, but this image of him I found online fits.
 Both images are from superbwallpapers.com

 

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Can one impatient woman with a dream of providing refuge for women melt the heart of an impervious, stingy banker?

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

 

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

All In Good Time will be published by Tyndale House Publishers.

 

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

First drafts usually take me about six months, with three months leeway split between the beginning (research, set up) and end (revision, incorporating beta-reader input).

 

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

For the western setting, any of Tamera Alexander’s Colorado books (All In Good Time is set in Denver, 1887) and for my stingy hero banker, I’d turn instead to the movies. Either the original Scrooge (but far more young and handsome than any actor depicting this memorable character), or Linus in the movie Sabrina—the original version with Humphrey Bogart or the “newer” classic with Harrison Ford.

 

Who or What inspired you to write this book?


I’ve always been interested in how money and secrets can impact a person’s life, and this book allowed me to explore what can happen to well-meaning people who find themselves carried away by their own mistakes.

 

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

My hope is that the characters will inspire people to realize that our failings—past, present or future—can all be forgiven, not only by ourselves, but by our loving God. He has it covered.

 

Thanks for stopping by The Blog Hop Tour! Next week be sure to check the following links for an interview with these wonderful authors:

 

Jill Eileen Smith

http://www.jilleileensmith.com/blog/

 

Lynette Eason

www.lynetteeason.com

 

Dorothy Love

www.dorothylovebooks.com/blog/

Few others phrases are connected to America as much as what Jefferson wrote in the Declaration of Independence: that inalienable right endowed by our Creator to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. It’s a notion intrinsic to the freedom that we enjoy, even when that freedom sometimes comes at a price.

It’s hard to escape the news these days, the tragedy at the elementary school in Sandy Hook, Connecticut. I was glued to the coverage for a while but to be honest I for one have needed to step away for a while. I continue to pray for those who were so tragically impacted by a senseless massacre, and can only rest in my trust that each one of those innocent children are now experiencing the incredible love and joy in Heaven.

In between our need to process what happened, to talk it over, to pray, both my husband and I left the news coverage behind for a while. I watched a couple old movies while baking yet more Christmas cookies while my husband caught up on some work and did some reading. One of the articles he shared with me was from Forbes magazine that stated pursuit is the most important leadership quality out there.

 

Our discussion inspired me to wonder what I’m pursuing these days. I’ve taken the holiday season off from writing, mostly, so I could concentrate on family needs. Holiday decorating, baking and shopping, wrapping presents, going to more social events than usual—all so opposite what may now be a new “norm” for residents of Sandy Hook since this happened during a season when we least expect such horror.

 

I must admit I look forward to January when I’ll once again pursue the things I love: writing the best story that I can, and in between taking care of my regular personal responsibilities in the best way possible. Because of this brief respite, I’m not feeling very “pursuitful.” Yet the older I get, the more people I know, the more stories I hear, I realize just how important is this concept of pursuit. If we aren’t pursuing something, what are we doing? Are we just going with the flow, letting others make our decisions, letting circumstances define our daily activities? Only when we’re going after something—whether it’s professional like publication or personal like better relationships, or in the case of those in Sandy Hook, in pursuit of healing—do we have a chance of getting what we want. Does the fulfillment of a goal ever just fall into our lap?

One of the lines from the article my husband read was something like: don’t wax eloquent about pursuing something. Know the difference between rhetoric and actual pursuit. Pursuit is more than a goal, it’s following through with those goals, and not being afraid of what you don’t know — consistently seeking to learn what you need to know. In short, not pursuing something leads to apathy, and here I’m adding the question: can apathy ever lead to happiness?

This may be a better post for the first of January, but there’s no sense putting off a thought that’s worth contemplation. What are you pursuing these days? It’s no less than our right for those who live in a country that values freedom than to pursue our worthy goals and then follow through in ways that reinforce success.

I think this week, especially in light of what happened on Friday, I’m a little more eager than usual to turn my thoughts to something hopeful.  So I go to the future, even in the shadow of sadness that we as a country face right now, knowing that free will has come with a terrible price yet again but that God is still God and is even now enacting His plan to one day rid us from evil for once and for all.

To anyone wishing to send a card of sympathy and support to those who were impacted last Friday, here is the address:

Sandy Hook Elementary School

12 Dickenson Drive

Sandy Hook, CT 06482

Yesterday when I should have been writing my blog entry, I was playing hooky with my sister. About this time twenty-four hours ago, we were on our way downtown to see the tree at Marshall Field’s (a.k.a. Macy’s) then have some lunch and walk through the Kris Kringle Mart in front of Daley Plaza. I took lots of pictures with my iPhone, but unfortunately most didn’t turn out. With close up shots—and by close up, I mean literally a couple of feet in front of me—my phone takes fine pictures. But for anything beyond that, they’re mainly blurry. It could be operator error, but if so my sister has the same disability because the ones she took didn’t turn out any better than the ones I snapped. Oh, well, bear with me for some not-so-perfect-pictures, but you’ll be able to tell my intent.

 

The first picture I took was of the big Christmas tree that sits in the center of the Walnut Room at Marshall Field’s/Macy’s. For as long as I can remember, it’s been a tradition in my family to go downtown to see the tree. We used to go the day after Thanksgiving, to see the window decorations and the tree. Lots of memories in that building, which is why I still call that particular store Marshall Field’s rather than Macy’s.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Evidently at least the window dresser who works for Macy’s has recognized the sentimentality many Chicagoans still hold for Marshall Field’s, because below the iconic Field’s Clock they’ve decided to include a copy of the building’s corner marker, labeling it as Marshall Field’s.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

People have been meeting beneath the Marshall Field’s Clock on State Street since 1897!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was glad to see the city of Chicago hasn’t succumbed to the pressures so many other cities have and still allows a nativity scene. Some people might find it surprising that Chicago, considered one of the most corrupt cities in the nation, is a holdout against the war on Christmas.

 

 

 

 

 

The Kris Kringle Market is held in the shadow of Chicago’s Picasso, in Daley Plaza. It’s like a European craft show, with ornaments, wood carvings and food choices in the tradition of various European countries.

 

I vaguely remember all of the talk surrounding the Picasso sculpture when it went up in the mid-sixties—people weren’t sure what to call it! Was it a monkey? No one seems to know, and Picasso himself didn’t say. Interestingly, the Field Foundation donated some of the money for material used for the sculpture, and even though Picasso was offered $100,000 for his talent, he refused because he wanted it to be a gift to the city.

 

 

So that was my day! It’s always fun to do something out of the ordinary, especially during this holiday season. By the way, did you ever wonder where the phrase “playing hooky” came from? I did, so I went to AskYahoo.com and here’s what they said:

Dear Yahoo!:


Why do we call skipping work or school “playing hooky”?


Carl

Richmond, Virginia





Dear Carl:


No one is quite sure about the origin of the phrase “playing hooky.” We consulted the top three online word sleuths and found a number of intriguing explanations. 

The Phrase Finder offers a few possible origins, including “to hook it” or “to escape or make off.” To “hook something” is also an old slang term for stealing, as in “stealing a day off.” 
The Word Detectivedates the first printed use of the phrase to 1848 and relates it to the 19th-century phrase “hooky-crooky,” which means “dishonest or underhanded.” The parent of this phrase is “by hook or by crook,” meaning “by any means necessary.” 
Word Origins suggests that the phrase comes from hoekje, the Dutch name for hide and seek.

The phrase seems to be waning in popularity with the younger folks these days. Most kids simply refer to skipping school as “cutting.” But regardless of what it’s called, the time-honored practice of playing hooky seems here to stay.