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Saturday, June 21, 2025

#SaturdaySpotlight is on Lucy Naylor Kubash and Chance's Return


Good Moring Friends!

Today's guest is brand new to our blog, so please give Lucy Naylor Kubash a warm W-E-L-C-O-M-E.

So glad you could join us, Lucy, please tell us something about your book, Chance's Return...

Well, Pam, the story goes something like this... Once upon a time a little girl loved horses, westerns…and cowboys. The fascination started when she and her dad watched Saturday afternoon movies with heroes like Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, and the Lone Ranger. In those days, a lot of westerns filled the airwaves on TV, and as she grew older, the girl graduated to Gunsmoke, Bonanza, and the Virginian, where cowboy heroes and their horses were larger than life. Eventually, the girl grew up and read romance novels with—you guessed it—cowboy heroes, buying into the whole cowboy myth that has been a big part of American entertainment. Writing her own cowboy hero story just seemed a logical next step. And so, she did. 

I’m pleased to announce Chance’s Return, a contemporary western romance set near the Grand Tetons, was released on April 16 by The Wild Rose Press. It’s the first book in a trilogy, The North Star Legacy, after the McCord family’s ranch, the North Star. The books are full of family drama, people learning to live with and rise above past mistakes and tragedies, and of course, romance. I’m hoping readers will want to learn about my cowboy hero, the McCord family, and the woman who changes their lives.

Here is the blurb for Chance’s Return...

Widowed single mom Casey Girard hopes time in Wyoming will help her recover from a tragic loss. Working as a cook at the North Star ranch for the summer offers an opportunity to start life over near the beautiful Grand Teton Mountains.

 Ex-rodeo champ and prodigal son of the North Star, Chance McCord returns to face a family still divided by their own painful past. To overcome the estrangement, he needs to find a way to face his own haunting memories.

 When Chance and Casey meet, the attraction is undeniable and blooms like the blue lupine in the valley. But can they learn to put their pasts to rest and trust one another so love can grow?

And an Excerpt...

Clutching their packages, they sprinted to the café two doors down and hurried inside. Casey glanced about the bustling Hitching Post. A lot of other folks had the same idea. 

Dishes clattered and voices were raised as the overwhelmed servers filled orders for the mob of tourists that, with the advent of the storm, had descended on them. 

Casey didn’t see a single empty table or booth.

“Room only at the counter, honey.” A harried server jerked her head towards the lunch counter.

Casey saw the two empty seats, one on either side of a tall, broad-shouldered man. His hat and faded denim jacket said cowboy, and he looked intimidating, even with his back turned.

She was reluctant to ask him to move over, but being on her own had forced her to fend for herself and do things she never thought she’d have to do. With only a second’s hesitation, Casey marched up to the counter and smiled. “Could you please move down one? All the other seats are taken.”

For a minute, she didn’t think he’d heard. He remained hunched over the full-to-the-brim mug of coffee that sat steaming on the counter in front of him. He hadn’t made it to the café in time to avoid the downpour. Rain darkened the faded denim jacket, and his battered, equally wet, black cowboy hat tilted low over his forehead, shadowing his face. He seemed totally withdrawn from the bustle of the café around him.

Casey cleared her throat to speak again and found herself looking into eyes the same color as the moody sky above the mountains. With the chary gaze of a lone wolf, the man stared from beneath the hat brim. He needed a shave, and his dark hair curled just above the collar of his jacket. In one glance, he took her all in, from her pink running shoes and skinny jeans to her green-and-white college sweatshirt. His gaze lifted and dwelled on her face. She shifted from one foot to the other. A crazy rush of warmth flooded her from her toes to the roots of her ponytailed hair.

“Hey, can we sit down?” Jamie asked. “I’m really hungry.” 

The fact he’d eaten lunch only a few hours ago didn’t seem to matter. Lately, Jamie was hungry all the time. 

The boy’s remark did the trick. 

A smile crinkled the man’s tanned face. “Sure enough, partner.” He stood just long enough to hoist himself over to the next stool. 

Jamie scrambled up beside him.

The man pulled the brim of the boy’s hat down over his wavy blond hair.

Scrunching his nose, Jamie tipped his head back and gave the stranger the once-over. “You a cowboy, mister?”

Casey poked her son. “Jamie, hush. Don’t ask a bunch of questions now.” In three weeks’ time, Jamie had also lost a lot of his bashfulness. Simply too many people lived at the North Star ranch, and too much happened for him to remain shy for long. But no doubt this guy wouldn’t appreciate a kid’s questions. When it came to cowboys, Jamie was an avid fan, and anybody who dressed like one became instant hero material. In spite of his friendly gesture, this particular cowboy didn’t look interested in being a little boy’s hero.

“It’s okay, ma’am. I don’t mind.” He winked at her. 

That sort of masculine wink could do strange things to one’s equilibrium. Casey snatched  the plastic-covered menu and stared at it, although, unlike Jamie, she wasn’t a bit hungry.

Wonderful, Lucy! Tell us a little more about yourself...

Lucy Naylor Kubash has been writing for most of her life. She began her career writing short romance stories for Woman’s World magazine and now writes contemporary romance for The Wild Rose Press. Lucy has penned a column, The Pet Corner, for nearly 25 years, that advocates for homeless pets and animal rescue. She lives in Michigan with her husband of 53 years where they enjoy spending time with their two grown children, an assortment of pets, and traveling whenever possible. 

Find and follow Lucy at the following social mediat sites...

Website: http://lucynaylorkubash.com

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/LucyNaylorKubash

Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/lucykubash_author

Pinterest:  https://www.pinterest.com/lkubash/

Amazon:  https://tinyurl.com/2t4k6x7j

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2966398.Lucy_Naylor_Kubash

BookBub:  https://www.bookbub.com/profile/lucy-naylor-kubash

Blue Sky:  https://bsky.app/profile/lucynaylorkubash.bsky.social

Thank You, SO much, Lucy for sharing with us today. We wish you the best of luck and God's blessings with your debut novel!

Hope you enjoyed Lucy's vist as much as I did, friends, and that you'll check back each week for another edition of Saturday Spotlight.

Until then, take care, God Bless and Happy Reading.
PamT

Saturday, June 14, 2025

#SaturdaySpotlight is on Dana Pratola & Wasn't Expecting That!

Hello and Welcome to another editon of Saturday Spotlight.

Today's guest is not new to the blog, per se, but it has been a while since she visited. So, without further ado, take it away Dana and tell us why you wrote Wasn't Expecting That...

Thanks Pam!

I started this book because I thought it would be nice to see a Pastor who doesn’t fill the typical role some Christians expect. Maddox Crew is single, has tattoos, temptations, and a past. I think it’s important to remember that pastors are men and, like anyone else, not immune to temptations. But they can also overcome and stay true to the Lord. Maddox is looking for a wife, and while he might technically be free to marry whomever he chooses, he only wants the one the Lord says is for him.

I also wanted to point out that in addition to the common problems many churches face—finances, squabbles among members, etc.—no church is immune to infiltration from the often subtle but very real and serious evil of witchcraft. It’s more prevalent than people realize and needs to be dealt with swiftly and decisively. 

Wonderful to know, Dana. I certainly enjoyed this book. You can read my review HERE. Please give us more.

Here you go...

Blurb: Luna Alexander is looking for a fun vacation adventure, and since her sister abandoned her, Maddox will have to substitute. He’s gorgeous and kind and doesn’t expect anything from her.

Maddox Crew isn’t looking for romance. The next woman he gets involved with will be his bride, but what’s wrong with hanging out with a beautiful girl for a few days? He's a Pastor ... what could happen? 

Still, something is going on at Cross Roads Church other than a not-quite romance. Unexplained hindrances, shadows, and accidents tell Maddox there’s more happening than what his eyes can see…

Excerpt: I groaned. With no one to hold my cone, I raised it up and carefully dropped to my stomach—flopped, like a fish on a boat deck—extended my legs out, and shoved my hand through again.

“Come on,” I grunted, pressing my shoulder into the metal grate rim, lengthening my fingertips as far as I could, and wiggling them as if to lure the key closer. “Come on….”

It wasn’t enough.

I took a deep breath and again plunged one hand deep into the underworld, the other lifting my cone higher, hips rocking, bare knees scraping on the cement, oblivious to all sounds around me except my labored breathing.

This was Lyric’s fault. She was supposed to be here with me, watching out for me, making sure I didn’t get into these situations. She’s my big sister and should be here on the agreed-upon two-week vacation that we’d saved all year for, instead of skipping off to who-knows-where with what’s-his-face.

Closing my eyes might help. If I could just harness the energy of sight and funnel it into my fingertips, it would make my fingers longer.

I shook my head, vowing to never confess to having that preposterous thought. It was something my mother would say.

Anyway, I was no closer. Not a single millimeter, which was so frustrating since I was almost there.

We all know how much almost counts.

A few sounds filtered in then, running footsteps, and a masculine voice.

“Hamster, no!” he yelled, in the same instant my cone hand was nudged, my fist suddenly emptied.

I snapped my head up, scraped my shoulder, and came face to drooling face with a hairy brown, black, and white beast. It swiped its mouth with its sloppy tongue and stood there smiling expectantly at me, tail wagging.

“What the…?”

“I’m so sorry,” came the male voice again. “Hamster, what is wrong with you today?”

I got to my feet and glared down at the Bernese Mountain Dog. They’d always been one of my favorite breeds. Right now … not so much.

“Hamster?” I asked, taking in the sheer size of the dog.

“Yeah, sorry. I just got him and … he’s a menace, I’m afraid.”

I took my first look at the man at the other end of the leash. He was very handsome—gorgeous, actually—with short, brown hair, light eyes, and a U of sweat, hugging his Alice Cooper tank top to his athletic, tattooed form.

Yes, gorgeous and apologetic.

GREAT excerpt! Thanks. Now please tell us a little more about you...

I'm passionate about Romance. I write about real people with real struggles, temptations, and desires. My characters often have difficult choices to make - and don't always make the right ones. My stories are not what you expect, and everything you want.

God has blessed me with a wonderful husband and three dynamic children, all of whom are destined to make wide, colorful splashes in this world. We share our New Jersey home with two dogs. I have no hobbies to speak of unless you include writing. I don't.

You can find & follow me on Facebook and Instagram.

*Important: Please keep in mind that Reviews are so important to authors 😊

Thank You, Dana for sharing your book with us. We certainly wish you the best of luck and God's blessings for continued success!

Until next time, friends, check out Dana's previous visits HERE and get your copy of Wasn't Expecting That at Amazon.

Take care and God Bless.

PamT

Saturday, June 7, 2025

#SaturdaySpotlight is on Marilyn Leach & All Hallows Dead: A Berdie Elliott Saints Day Mystery

Good Morning Friends,

Today we welcome, Marilyn Leach back to our blog with the fifth book in a series that heralds the intrepid English vicar’s wife and gifted sleuth, Berdie Elliott, as an ascendant crime solver.  All Hallows Dead is a current-time whodunit that’s rooted in England’s ancient past. 

Thanks for being in our spotlight, Marilyn, can you tell us what inspired you to write a Saint's Day mystery?

Thank You, Pam, for having me back on your blog! The easy answer is to explore the North of England and breathe in the rich heritage of abbey ruins, wind-swept villages, venerable churches, brooding skies, and the North Sea, inspires creative thought and the centuries-old history generates story ideas. Short autumn days and long blustery nights are just the right season to read All Hallows Dead with a hot cup of tea close at hand.  Cheers 😊

I hear you, Marilyn. I went to England last year and you're right, the magnificent architecture and the country's history can certainly get the juices flowing. (You can read about my trip HERE). Tell us more about All Hallows Dead...

Sure, here's the Blurb...

How can a sixteenth century saint help solve a twenty-first century crime?

When Berdie Elliott, vicar’s wife and sleuth extraordinaire, attends a church course with her husband in the North of England, she bumps into her former newspaper boss who calls upon her to investigate beguiling circumstances that spell murder.  From the landed Cavendish family to the local pub’s manager, Criswell Abbey and its village are steeped in a centuries-old mystery.  The legend of a departed churchman, a mysterious bell tower, England’s tangled history, a delayed marriage proposal, and a wily parrot all help Berdie to declare the truth in All Hallows Dead.  

And an Excerpt...

Berdie Elliott and her best friend, Lillie Foxworth, often find themselves in hot water, and they’re not brewing tea.

What I found is absolutely priceless. There’s….” Berdie stopped when she became aware of clip-clop steps in the nave. “Shh.” She put her index finger to her lips.  

“Why shush?” Lillie didn’t make her voice particularly quiet. 

Berdie raised her brows and pointed toward the nave. “Someone’s about the place,” she whispered. “We can’t let on that we’re in here…”

The steps outside became louder. They were advancing toward the tower. 

Lord have mercy.  

There was a hesitation.  

Berdie held her breath. She realized instantly that whoever was on the other side of the door, was perhaps one who knew all the secrets of this place which could mean she and Lillie were in very real danger. 

Oh my, intriguing from the get go. How can we find out more about you now, Marilyn?

Here's my "official" bio Pam, including places readers can connect...

At the age of nine, Marilyn wrote her first play with a childhood neighbor, “The Ghost and Mr. Giltwallet”.  It was a mystery.  And she’s been writing in one form or another, hobby or livelihood, since.  As well as teaching art, she’s had the opportunity to co-author several plays that have been performed on both church and secular stages, as well as two screenplays.  Marilyn has had the good fortune of “discovering her roots” while visiting England where she developed lasting relationships with wonderful people there.  It has greatly impacted her writing.  A great fan of Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple and David Cook’s Hetty Wainthropp series, Marilyn was inspired to write her Berdie Elliott Mystery series.  It takes place in a small English village where the vicar’s wife, Berdie Elliott, is the divine sleuth.  Marilyn lives lakeside in a cottage on the outskirts of Denver near the foothills.

Find Marilyn at... www.amazon.com and www.pelicanbookgroup.com

Check out Marilyn's previous visits and the other books in her series: HERE 

Get your copy of All Hallows Dead at Amazon & Pelican Book Group.

Saturday, May 31, 2025

#SaturdaySpotlight is on Colleen Donnelly & I Have a Story

It has been quite some time since Colleen has visited so let's give her a big, SWLA W-E-L-C-O-M-E!

Take it away Colleen and tell us about your new book, I Have a Story.

Thanks Pam. This book is radically different from my earlier historical romance/fiction novels. Its creation can be compared to the appearance of an unplanned child—one untimely born, unexpected, and an utter surprise because you thought your childbearing years were over. That is how I was looking at my writing days, when this story came to me in a dream. I woke up refreshed, utterly happy, swimming in vibrant colors, and surprised at the springing up of a love story in circumstances where no love could possibly survive. I had been handed a beautiful fabric, a lighthearted antidote for the challenges my family and I had endured the past few years. All I needed to add was a crime, an antagonist, and an elderly grandfather who showed his grandson what true heroes were made of. This tale became the escape and lift I needed, so I suspect it is meant to be the same for anyone else ready to step slightly outside the practical and suspend the expected for the unexpected.

Like an unplanned child...I like that! Give us more Please.

Ok, here's the blurb and an excerpt...

Jim Turner writes crime but doesn’t live it. He respects his grandfather’s tales of heroes but doesn’t believe them. When his failing grandfather sends him to a remote peninsula to write the end of his own heroic love story, Jim includes a war criminal interview to maintain his edge.

Chastity is an anomaly, a misfit in pre-WWII culture as well as in Jim’s life. Her spritely charm and endearing features turn Jim’s world upside down, especially when she reveals his grandfather’s peninsula as the site of her upcoming wedding.

Do good journalists flee when their interviewee is murdered? Do heroes write fiancés out of another’s story and themselves in? “The End” become the hardest words for Jim to write.

Excerpt

“So,” Chastity said. “Tell me more about the grandfather who impacted you so much.”

I felt him in the room. Or maybe it was in Grove. Mountain Grove. Or because we had been on his beloved peninsula, she with her yellowish hair. It was as if he joined Chastity and me, and she sensed it too. His hands and heart were in this decrepit building with us, his presence and hers making it feel like a castle instead.

“If it wasn’t for him, who knows where you might be now instead of here helping me.” She squeezed my hand.

How did she know? Because of Grandpa I came to Grove and searched for a peninsula that brought me to Chastity…who actually brought me to it. “My grandfather is a wonderful man… But before we discuss him, there are things you should know about.” I had to be honest. “Tasks you can’t help me with.” Like crime and violence, dangerous interviews, and the way I felt about her.

A face unlike any I had ever seen…and never would again…should send my heroic heart to the ladder where I would gather a million splinters in my hands by sliding to the ground, risking pain and infection to keep her safe by leaving.

Her features looked watery as I gazed at her. Tears? I never cried. Her pastel throw rugs turned into colorful puddles blurred by an emotion I had never experienced before.

“You are supposed to be here, Jim. And I am supposed to help you.”

For a moment, something ominous crept into my thoughts. Something of the old crime writer in me, who with several clicks of a typewriter’s keys could turn any story the direction I wanted. I welcomed him back, then set him aside. Because in the blue of her eyes, I saw something stronger—my promise.

If friendship was defined by a long period of time and a large number of interactions, Chastity didn’t qualify. And maybe my initial carnal fascination which became a pitter-patter my heart couldn’t beat without didn’t meet the definition of love. But she was at least partially right. For three days we were supposed to be together and help each other. For three days we had an eternity.

NICE! Do you have a bio and links for yourself?

Yep...

Colleen L Donnelly put her science education to use for years and then put it behind her to pursue other passions. Her first love is writing and her second is hunting—hunting for that next good story, hunting for shed antlers or mushrooms in the woods, hunting for the next good author to read. An avid believer in work hard/play hard, Colleen splits her time between indoors and out, always busy at something.

Social Media Links:
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/colleen-l-donnelly


Perfect! Now where can we find I Have a Story?

At Amazon for Kindle and in Paperback.

GREAT! Thanks for visiting Colleen. We wish you the best of luck and God's blessings with your new release.

That wraps up May 2025 Saturday Spotlights friends. Until next week/month, take care and God Bless.
PamT

Saturday, May 24, 2025

#SaturdaySpotlight is on Dianne Miley & Sunflowers for Sarita

She's back and it is with great pleasure I bring to you Dianne Miley's book, Sunflowers for Sarita! Welcome, Dianne, tell us what prompted this novel...

Thanks for having me back, Pam! At the beginning of the Crystal Falls Series, Sarita testified against her then-boyfriend for her attempted murder. He went to prison and vowed revenge. I had to share the story of what would happen when he was released. Sunflowers for Sarita is Christian romantic suspense with plenty of frightening, nail-biting scenarios along with reconciliation and redemption. I love a good redemption story, and Sarita deserved one! I had to write it for her. 

Of course you did! Give us more please...

Sure, here you go...

Blurb: WHEN HER HOMICIDAL EX threatens revenge, Sarita Santos becomes desperate to protect her young daughter. She accepts refuge at wealthy client Max Carter’s beach house. With the madman on their trail, Max risks his life to save her child. Can love blossom in the midst of catastrophe? And can love survive if hope is lost?

Excerpt: Chapter 1 - Broken Sunflowers

Hot August sunlight streamed through the display window of Willow Pond Interiors, but Sarita Santos stood frozen in the midday heat, chills running through her as the voice of the smalltown Ohio police chief reverberated from her cell phone.

"Ramone got parole. He was released this morning."

Icy fear prickled her scalp, surging through her with a sudden trickle of sweat down her back, all the way to the tips of her frigid toes.

"His attorney appealed to get him out early. I don't know how or why, but he won." Chief Hunter heaved a sigh. "We'll do all we can to protect you, Sarita. Stay away from Riverside and his old haunts."

Shivering, she dabbed perspiration from her brow. Her stomach pitched with the rush of heat and cold, nausea churning as if she’d just contracted the flu.

Ramone Valdez had murdered her best friend. When Sarita refused to abort his child, he tried to kill her too. Then she testified against him, and he swore revenge. After he went to prison, she'd moved to nearby Crystal Falls, cut all connections to her sordid past, and started a new life. But Riverside was only twenty-five miles away.

He'd track her down. 

"Don't go near anyone connected to him," the chief warned.

Sarita sucked in a jagged breath. "What if he finds my mother? She watches Gracia." Scenes of horror flashed through her mind: Ramone busting through the door, yanking Gracia from her mother's arms, torturing her screaming child.

"Don't panic. Where does your mom live?"

"Here in Crystal Falls. In the apartment above the music shop." Her voice shook as bile burned her throat.

"Stay here in town. Your phone's unlisted, right? And your mother's?"

"Yes." Her voice cracked. "We only use cell phones."

"Good. Lie low for a while. Watch for anything suspicious and let us know. I'll ask the department in Riverside to keep an eye out for him. We'll do the same here."

"Thank you."

"I'll be checking in with you. Keep your daughter close and be safe."

Trembling, Sarita fumbled the phone into the pocket of her dress. Only then did she feel the bristles across the palm of her other hand. The woody stem of a sunflower crushed in her fist. Its fresh green scent filled her nostrils and oily sap covered her hand.

She dropped the broken flower as if it were razor wire.

Would Ramone hunt her down? Had prison deterred his promise of revenge, or hardened his heart even more?

She swallowed the acid taste and wiped her hand on a dust cloth. With a desperate prayer on her lips, she dialed her mother's number.

"Hello, mama?" she stammered.

"Sarita, what's wrong?"

"Mama, where's Gracia?"

"She's napping." An edge of irritation tainted her mother’s voice as the opening music of her favorite soap opera played in the background.

"Will you check on her, please?”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Quickly, Mama, please. Then lock all the windows and doors – especially the balcony over the back alley.”

“But...?”

“Ramone's been released from prison."

"No - " Maria Santos gasped and the phone clamored as she dropped it. Rushed footsteps scuffled away and a door creaked shut. Muted sounds assured Sarita she was locking the windows. More rushed footsteps, the click of a deadbolt, and heavy breathing coursed through the phone line.

"She's safe." Her mother sounded more rattled than confident.

"Thank you, Mama. Please stay home and keep your eyes open. Don't let Gracia outside. The police will be watching the area."

"Okay." Maria heaved a breath. "Whew. It's hot in here already. Is it really necessary to lock the windows on the second floor?"

"I'm sorry, Mama. We can’t take any chances. I wish you had air conditioning."

"Yeah. It's usually not this hot up here."

Northern Ohio summers rarely required more than an open window and a fan to circulate the breeze. A native Puerto Rican, her mother spent her youth in tropical heat without air conditioning. But she was older now, overweight, and acclimated to the cooler climate.

"We'll have to figure this out. Please just be careful, and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Okay, honey. Try not to worry."

"I will. Thanks, Mama. Please pray."

Ramone would need more than a day to find her. After four years in the slammer, his first order of business would be booze and sex. He would likely return to Riverside and hole up with one of his drunken floosies.

While Sarita had worked her tail off to support them, he'd cheated plenty. Furious when she got pregnant, he could no longer rely on his star stripper to bring in the cash. He insisted on an abortion. When she refused, he orchestrated an 'accident' by cutting the brake lines on her car.

Injured and close to miscarriage, she got out of the hospital in time to testify against him. In prison by the time Gracia was born, he might not know that his child survived.

Sarita couldn’t stop shaking. Even in smalltown Crystal Falls, her precious daughter could be in danger.

Her stomach roiled. She needed food but the last thing she wanted to do was eat. Sipping her chocolate espresso to settle her stomach, she resolved to keep busy. No customers wandered about for the moment.

As turmoil churned her mind, she struggled with an arrangement of sunflowers in the front window of the store. The warm sun, once welcome, now felt garish as she massaged her forehead to fend off a migraine. Taking deep breaths, she scanned the quaint main street of Willow Pond, checking pillared corners and brick alleys for any sign of Ramone.

A well-dressed man passed the window and caught her eye. After initial surprise, he grinned. Men often gawked at her looks without a care for the person inside. Much less what she was going through this minute.

As he opened the door, Sarita groaned inwardly. Drained and terrified, she just wanted to be left alone. She needed to focus on a way to hide from Ramone without leaving her job and everything she’d worked for.

The handsome man smiled as he approached her. “You look as sunny as those flowers.”

“Thank you.” She felt like a wreck after that phone call. She climbed from the display window, careful not to hike up her slim yellow dress. Ah - he must have meant her yellow dress and dark hair matched the sunflowers.

Wobbly on spiked heels, she righted herself on the slick tile floor.

He stuck out a hand and she braced herself for the onslaught of emotion his touch could bring. Handsome men still held power over her.

Like a gentleman, his firm handshake steadied her without letting on as she regained her balance. Too upset for his touch to cause the anticipated effect, she felt an odd comfort instead. She pulled back with cool grace and mentally shored up the talented interior designer she’d trained to be.

“Welcome to Willow Pond Interiors. I’m Sarita.”

“Nice to meet you, Sarita. I’m Max Carter. I believe we’ve met before. I’m a friend of Chad and Vanessa James. Weren’t you in their wedding?”

His sandy hair and trim frame looked familiar. She met his gaze. With a jolt of surprise, she remembered him. He’d caught her eye at the wedding two summers ago, and Vanessa hinted hard that he was interested. But after all Sarita had been through, she’d sworn off men.

She had her hands full raising a three-year-old and building a career. Now she had Ramone to worry about.

Besides, Max Carter, millionaire tycoon, lived a few notches above anyone who’d be interested in an ex-stripper with a toddler in tow.

“I’m surprised you remember.” Her raw emotions precluded flattery.

“How could I forget?” Heat radiated from him in waves of spicy cologne and overheated male, threatening to melt her resolve like the chocolate stashed in her purse. Lord, give me strength.

“It was a beautiful wedding.” She tried not to stammer, determined to be professional and get to business. “It's nice to see you again. So how can I help you today?”

His expression registered disappointment, but he let the conversation shift.

“Vanessa recommended you to redecorate my great room. I have a large stone fireplace and cathedral ceilings. I’d like to make the big room feel more intimate.” Seeming to regret his word choice, he cleared his throat and fortified his businesslike manner. “Cozy, that is.” Avoiding eye contact, he glanced around the store.

“All right." She ignored the double meaning of his words."We need to find your style. Let me show you around.” Still shaken, she led him toward a grouping of sofas and chairs on teetering heels. She put on her professional face and fought an inclination to touch his arm for support. “Point out anything that strikes you, without concern whether it fits the room. I need to get a feel for your taste.”

That was all she needed a feel for. His kindhearted gaze made her want to lean into him for a hug. How she needed one right now. But her weakness for affectionate comfort had betrayed her time and time again. Irresistible men had gotten her into this mess.

Oh Wow...That excerpt really packs a punch on several levels! You know what's next, LOL...

Ha! Yes I do. here are my bio and links...

Dianne Miley writes to share God’s hope, love, and grace. Her Crystal Falls Series includes: Lilacs for Laura; Roses for Rachel; Violets for Vanessa; and Sunflowers for Sarita. She contributed short stories to three anthologies: A Holy City Christmas; Charleston Light; and When You Pass Through Waters. She also authored a non-fiction book, Time to Enjoy Your Blessings. All books, as well as her blog can be found on www.diannemiley.com.

When she's not writing or reading, Dianne enjoys time with family and friends. She and her husband have two married children and two adorable grandchildren. She also enjoys cooking, gardening, flower arranging, tea parties, the beach, and her wrap-around porch. She founded a nonprofit, Sanctuary of Unborn Life in Charleston, South Carolina to help pregnant women in need. She now lives near Charlotte, North Carolina. 

Find and Follow Dianne at the following SM sites...







Sunflowers for Sarita can be found at Amazon for Kindle (Free in KU!) and in Paperback and don't forget to check out the other books in the Crystal Falls series, Lilacs for Laura, Roses for Rachel and Violets for Vanessa.

See Dianne's past visits to our blog HERE.

Please help support Diane by commenting and sharing this blog post. TIA!

Until next time, take care, God Bless and Happy Reading.
PamT

Saturday, May 17, 2025

#SaturdaySpotlight is on Kerry Blaisdell & The Princess Shoppe

Hello and Welcome to another edition of Saturday Spotlight! 

Today's guest has visited us once before, so please welcome Kerry Blaisdell back with her book, The Princess Shoppe.

THANKS for coming, Kerry. I just LOVE this cover! Tell us why you wrote The Princess Shoppe...

I love romcoms, and I also love suspense. We were on a family trip to Disneyland one year, and I just started thinking about what goes on behind the scenes, to make the "magic" happen. I write "quirky," so pretty fast, the concept became a dying theme park out in the middle of nowhere, where the rides are all based on the goriest of the Grimm brothers' "fairytales" - even the kiddie ones! Then Allie and Matt hit the page, and I knew it was going to be a really fun story to write!

I love that. We never know when or where inspiration will strike that's for sure! Can you give us a blurb and excerpt?

Sure. Here you go...

Blurb: Once upon a time in La-La-Land: When theme park princesses start vanishing, a free-spirited P.I. goes undercover and finds her prince – a cautious ex-military spy who’d rather be left alone.

Fired from her job, Allie Kincade has a house in escrow, an eviction notice from her landlord, and nothing in the bank. So when she’s offered an insanely large paycheck to dress up as a princess and find three women who’ve gone missing from their jobs as costume characters at GrimmLand, she jumps at the chance. But the park isn’t all it seems: Deep in the SoCal desert, it’s owned by the king of an obscure European country, and the attractions are based on the Grimm brothers’ goriest folktales. Plus, Allie’s new boss clearly wishes she’d never been hired.

As head of GrimmLand security, buttoned-down Matt Wilcox is convinced the princesses – all out-of-work actresses – simply found better gigs and “forgot” to quit. But he owes his life to King Roland, and he can’t retire and pursue his own dreams until the women are found. Then the king’s adult daughter – a real princess – also goes missing, and Matt must work with Allie to uncover the truth. Will their fairy-tale ending be a happy one…or more Grimm?

Excerpt: The shorter man stepped forward.

He had a hawkish nose and aristocratic features. “Ms. Kincade? I am Tarek Cassar. I wish to say that the episode upstairs was most regrettable.”

Allie felt herself flush. “Sorry about that. Again.” 

“Do not concern yourself. We understand.”

“You do?”

Bathroom Guy’s expression hadn’t changed. For some reason, she couldn’t get a bead on him. In their grand total of two encounters, he’d been mad, amused, encouraging, and mad again. Yet he also seemed at home in his own skin, like no matter where he found himself, he belonged. 

Or maybe he was just too good-looking. Like Bobby, but with more “there” there. 

She glanced away. “Mr. Cassar—”

“Please, call me Tarek.”

Bathroom Guy shot Cassar a surprised look, then grimaced and checked his watch. Tarek stared pointedly, and Bathroom Guy said, “Sorry. Hoping to hurry this up.”

You and me both, Allie thought. To Tarek she said, “Is there something I can do for you? I have an appointment.”

He bowed. “I will be brief. I am most sorry for any distress Mr. Peerless caused you, but I believe I may be able to help.”

“What? You help me?”

Bathroom Guy frowned some more, and Allie gave up. Tarek was easier. He beamed now, pleased with himself, or with her, she wasn’t sure which. 

“Yes. It is clear that you are in need of employment.”

“I can’t argue with that. But, er, what do you need?”

“A princess. The job is yours, if you will take it.”


Intriguing... Tell us a little more about yourself, Kerry and where we can find The Princess Shoppe.

THANKS Pam, here is my "official" bio...

Kerry Blaisdell is the bestselling and award-winning author of the acclaimed DEAD SERIES, which InD’tale Magazine recommends for “fans of shows like ‘Constantine’ or ‘Supernatural.’” She also writes award-winning quirky Romantic Suspense (including PUBLISH OR PERISH, a Publishers Weekly BookLife Prize Quarterfinalist) and Historical Mystery. She has a B.A. from U.C. Berkeley in Comparative Literature (French/Medieval English), and a Master’s in Teaching English and Advanced Mathematics from University of Portland. Kerry lives in the gorgeous Pacific Northwest with her family, assorted animals, and more hot pepper plants than anyone could reasonably consume.

To connect with Kerry online, join her Facebook Reader Group, or subscribe to her Very Occasional Mailing List and get TWO free downloads! 

You can also connect with Kerry on other social media platforms listed HERE.

The Princess Shoppe is available at Amason for Kindle and in Paperback as well as other online retailers listed HERE.

Hope you enjoyed Kerry's visit today folks! Leave a comment and let us know. 

Until next time, take care and God Bless.
PamT

PS: If you or someone you know has dreamed of writing a book, check out A Novel Lunch ™ Beginning Writer Workshop. We'll be starting soon and there are only 8 spots left so register today!

Saturday, May 10, 2025

#SaturdaySpotlight is on Gail Pallotta & Dangerous Detour

Good Morning and Welcome to another edition of Saturday Spotlight!

Today's guest, Gail Pallotta, has visited many times in the past and now she's here with one of her latest books, Dangerous Detour.

Welcome back, Gail. Please give us a peek into Dangerous Detour.

THANKS, for having me back, Pam. Here you go...

Blurb: Four people face a winter storm in the wilderness. Two have lost their way. One has lost his purpose and one has lost his soul.  

Headed home for Christmas vacation, Ruthie, a quiet professor, crosses paths with Moose, a football coach, on an icy blocked road in Western North Carolina. Amid a winter storm, they unknowingly take shelter in a killer’s hideout. Escaping under fire, they flee into a frozen, snow-covered forest. Trying to find their way out and shake the murderer, they dodge bullets each day until the temperature drops and the world turns quiet. Then, they set up camps to survive in the wilderness. Even though they grow attracted to each other, neither admits it until each of them suffers a frightening injury. Finally, they head to a house Ruthie sees in the distance. Will they meet a new friend, or a foe?

Excerpt: Twilight fell.

The fog grew thicker, and ice pellets hit the windshield.

Ruthie O’Donnell wished she’d waited to leave for home tomorrow, but the weatherman had forecast snow, not ice. 

Her car skidded.  

A drop-off on the right. An embankment on the left. 

Holding the steering wheel so tight her knuckles hurt, Ruthie turned the wheel with the slide. Thud. The airbag deployed. Her horn honked.

The motor ground into the quiet night. After the airbag deflated, with her hand shaking, she turned off the engine, opened the door, and stepped out. The beams from the car’s headlights shone on the hood. 

She’d smashed into a tall oak growing on the side of a cliff. Only the tree kept her from tumbling over the steep precipice. When her knees went weak, she braced herself on the doorframe, slid into the driver’s seat, and collapsed on the airless airbag.

Metal grinding against metal blasted, then the world fell silent. Ruthie stared at the soft snow. She could almost hear the mist. 

Tapping. From far away? Someone coming to help? Or hurt her? Every muscle in her body tightened.

“Ma’am, Ma’am, are you alright?”

A large man holding a flashlight stood by the car. 

She started closing the door, but he pulled it open. She scrunched her shoulders and recoiled.

Placing a muscular arm around her waist, the man gently pulled her out as though she weighed no more than a light grocery bag. After he stood her up on the highway, she stiffened at his size. Towering over her five-feet-four inches, he had broad shoulders, dark hair, and…wait. Did kindness glint in his big brown eyes, or did she imagine it? 

“Ma’am, we need to get your belongings out in case your vehicle goes over. 

Ruthie looked at her car and placed her hand over her mouth. 

“Ma’am, I didn’t mean to upset you more than this disaster already has.” He sighed. “Before I left, I listened to a weather forecast for the Western North Carolina Mountains for snow, possibly heavy at times.”

“I heard snow too.”

“We’re lucky. I skidded into the guardrail sideways and stopped ten feet behind you. We came so close…” The man motioned toward the bluff. “But here we are.” He peeked in the backseat window. “We need to take only the most important things—suitcase, water, food. Any of that buried under all of those books?”

Trying to assess her situation, Ruthie pondered the words before she answered. “I have luggage in the trunk and one to-go box of food.”

“I’ll grab your bag if you’ll bring the leftovers.”

“What about my car?”

“The tree holding it appears pretty sturdy. Strong winds, ice and hail could damage it though. Considering the conditions and the one-hundred-foot drop, I wouldn’t try to move it. If it slides sideways, it could plummet over the edge.” He glanced at her backseat again. “Could you choose a few of those books and leave the rest?”

She held the duffle bag in one hand and the food in the other. “That’s all right. I don’t have to take them.” She valued her books like gold nuggets, but she could only carry so much. When the man had said one-hundred-foot drop, she had put her desire to read in perspective.

“I know how bookworms are about their pastime. Take a few. I’ll add your items to mine and carry them all.”  

Wait a minute. Twilight had turned to night, and here she was, standing on the side of the highway in a storm talking to a strange man as big as Paul Bunyon? “Who are you?” 

# # #

Oh, Boy... Makes me wonder what happens next. But that's the point, right? LOL! Tell us, what made you write Dangerous Detour and how we can find more about you and your books.

I certainly hope so! Here's the story behind the story, my "official" bio and where I can be found ...


People often refer to modern times as the post-Christian era. We’re blessed with wonderful ministers, missionaries and other Christian leaders. Unfortunately, many people never attend a church or any Christian gathering. Yet church goers see others on a daily basis—in a long line in the grocery, at a restaurant, a company or organizational meeting. How can we, Christians who have no formal ministerial training, help spread the Gospel? 

Some clergy say unchurched neighbors who watch Christians get up and go to church every Sunday grow curious about Christianity. A man (I’ll call him Joe) recently wandered in a store looking at the merchandise and humming a hymn. A stranger asked Joe about the song. Joe ended up talking to the man about his faith and his church. Another person was asked how he and his wife had stayed married for so many years. He said, “We go to church together.” 

That’s a loaded statement with so many churches going in different directions. However, the conversation led to a discussion of a Jesus-centered church. The teaching and sermons there apply what Jesus taught about living a godly life rather than re-shaping his Gospel to suit our advantage in worldly situations. It’s often the little opportunities we take advantage of that speaks to a person. All of the above stayed on my mind for a long time. Usually, when something nags me, I write about it. Thus, a Discipleship Series began. Dangerous Detour is book two. Book one is Hidden Danger featured in Pam's sidebar. Both are available at Amazon


Award-winning author Gail Pallotta is a wife, mom, swimmer and bargain shopper who loves God, beach sunsets and getting together with friends and family. A former Grace Awards Finalist  and a Reader’s Favorite 2017 Book Award winner, she’s published eight books, poems, short stories and two-hundred articles. Some of her articles appear in anthologies while two are in museums. She loves to connect with readers so please visit her website and sign up to receive her newsletter. You can also find/follow her on Facebook, FBAuthor Page, LinkedIn, BookBub, and Pinterest.

THANK You, Gail. We certainly enjoyed your visit and wish you the best of luck and God's blessings in all things.

Hope you enjoyed today's guest, Friends. Please support her by leaving a comment and sharing the post.

Until next time, take care and God bless.
PamT

Saturday, May 3, 2025

#SaturdaySpotlight is on Valerie Massey Goree & Meet Me in the Yorkshire Dales!

Good Morning and Welcome to the first edition of Saturday Spotlight in May 2025. Can you believe this year is already almost half over? I guess the old adage, "time flies when you're having fun," really is true because I'm having a blast featuring authors, artists and books on this blog!

With that said, it is my pleasure to bring back into the spotlight, Valerie Massey Goree with her book, Meet Me In the Yorkshire Dales.

Welcome, Valerie, can you give us a little insight as to why you wrote Meet Me In the Yorkshire Dales?

Hi, Pam. Thanks for hosting me. Meet Me in the Yorkshire Dales is book two in the series: From England with Love and…Treachery.

These stories center around American characters who meet in England, have to deal with mayhem, overcome obstacles, and fall in love.

To describe the story behind book two, first, I need to explain why I wrote book one. 

Meet Me Where the Windrush Flows is set in the Cotswolds, England. I wanted to visit this picturesque area and decided to set a novel there. Initially, Windrush was a stand-alone book, but I enjoyed the research trip so much that I chose to explore other areas in England where I could set two more novels to form the series. 

Ta-da. That meant I had to travel to England again! 

I love setting stories in real places I’ve visited or where I've lived. That way, I can incorporate the atmosphere, the culture, the uniqueness of the area.

The Yorkshire Dales have always fascinated me. If you’ve watched the TV show “All Creatures Great and Small”, then you’ve seen the Dales. My friend and I spent two weeks in the villages featured in my story. While there, I took numerous photos of the scenery, the dry stone walls, the lush green fields, and the seventeenth-century cottages. I visited museums, questioned the locals, and read up on the history of the villages.

A trip to England is too expensive to only stay for two weeks, so…I needed to find a location where I could set book three. I chose the City of Bath and purposely planned a September visit when the Jane Austen Festival is scheduled. The title of book three is Meet Me In Bath at the Jane Austen Festival.

These are the only stories I’ve written so far that are tailored to the settings. The characters in the books are not related, but the common setting—England—ties them together. 

OH My Goodness, Valerie! How amazing! I went to England and the Jane Austen Festival in September of 2024 and it was an amazing trip! You can find out more about it in the archives on my travel blog, Bathroom Blues. Tell us more about Meet Me in the Yorkshire Dales...

Sure here's the blurb and an excerpt!

To inherit her grandfather’s estate, Roxanne Clarke has to prove the identity of her birth mother. Considering all the ancestry help online, that shouldn’t be a problem. However, the only clues Roxanne has are an old photograph and hints provided by a member of her grandfather’s household that her mother was born in Yorkshire.

Accompanied by her best friend, Avery, and Avery’s twin brother, Lucas, Roxanne travels to England. Their attempts to identify Roxanne’s mother send them from one village to another. To add to their frustration, a fellow Texan is following them, threatening them, trying to locate the woman first. 

Lucas has been in love with Roxanne since high school, but botched their relationship two years ago. While helping her find her mother, can he salvage their once-blossoming romance, build a new beginning, and keep her safe when the Texan’s actions intensify?

Excerpt from Chapter 1:

Fanning her face with a magazine did little to relieve the stuffiness in the waiting room. The indoor temperature almost matched the early June morning. Roxanne glanced across at the sofa by the window where a blonde with a movie star figure sat and said, “You’d think lawyers could afford air-conditioning.”

“I thought the same thing.” The woman gathered her shoulder-length curls into a ponytail and dabbed her nape with a tissue. “Did you by any chance receive a letter demanding your presence here today?”

“I did. It’s all a bit mysterious.” Roxanne adjusted the patch covering her left eye. “I don’t think I’m in trouble, and I know I don't have a wealthy aunt who’s named me in her will.” She’d fashioned her long hair into a twist secured with a claw clip to keep it off her neck and out of her eyes. The patch seemed to attract stray strands.

“Me neither.” The woman pointed to the ornate metal clock on the opposite wall. “Mr. Ogden’s running late. I—”

The inner door opened, and a tall, elderly woman emerged. “Mr. Ogden will see you now. Please come through.”

A sweet but pleasant floral scent surrounded the blonde as she walked past Roxanne and entered the office.

A middle-aged man in a gray suit stood beside an antique oak desk. “I’m Thomas Ogden, and I apologize for the warm room and for keeping you waiting. A technician is on his way. My office is much cooler. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the two armchairs and sat in his desk chair. “Would either of you like something to drink? Coffee, water?”

Roxanne and the blonde shook their heads.

“That will be all, Mrs. Edwards.”

The tall woman exited through a side door. 

The blonde settled on the chair closest to the desk and crossed her legs. The skirt of her maroon dress barely covered her thighs. 

For a fleeting moment, Roxanne wished she’d worn something more sophisticated than blue jeans and a coral pink shirt. A trivial thought for such a serious occasion. She perched on the edge of a coffee-colored leather armchair and cleared her throat. Enough dawdling. “Why are we here, Mr. Ogden?” 

“Straight to the point. I like that.” He smoothed the pages of a file on his desk. “Did you bring identification?”  

Roxanne set her passport on the desk, and the other woman produced a driver’s license. 

Ogden opened the passport and looked at Roxanne. “You are Roxanne Ruth Clarke?”

“Yes.”

The lawyer picked up the driver’s license. “You are Petra Christine Vandiver?”

“I am.” Her voice had taken on a silky quality.

“With that important task out of the way, I can tell you why you were invited—”

“Summoned, more like.” Roxanne bit her lip as he raised an eyebrow at her. “Sorry.” 

“Please, no more interruptions. You are here because one of you is the sole heir to your grandfather’s estate.” He leaned back and folded his arms, a smug expression crossed his oval face.

His statement swirled around the cool room and punched Roxanne in the gut. Seldom at a loss for words, she stammered, “Wh…what?” She stared at Ogden and then at Petra, who blinked rapidly and shifted in her chair.

“I know this is a big surprise for both of you, but I will explain.” The lawyer pointed to the file.

He sure was taking his sweet time. Roxanne stood and paced to the window. “I don’t think I should be here. I’m adopted and was always told I had no blood relatives.”

“Same here.” Now, Petra’s voice wobbled as if she were on the verge of tears. “I am curious, though.” 

“Miss Clarke, please sit down.”

She complied with his stern request.

“By the way, why are you wearing a patch?”

Ready to jump up and read the contents of Ogden’s folder herself, she glared at him.  “You’re interested in my physical appearance when my world has just turned upside-down?”

“Please indulge me.”

“I had surgery yesterday. A cornea transplant.”

“Why?”

As if it were any of his business.

“Please, Mr. Ogden.” Petra leaned forward, exposing more cleavage. “Get back to the will. Who is this man and how much…how big is his estate?”

“All in good time. It’s apparent neither of you knew you had a grandfather until today. You can wait a few more minutes. Now, Miss Clarke, do you know anything about your birth mother?”

His question knocked the wind out of her frustration. Roxanne swallowed. She’d been devastated by the answers her parents gave her when she’d asked. “No. The adoption was private and closed. I love my parents and they provided a wonderful, secure childhood, but it would be nice to…”

“How about you, Petra?”

She shrugged. “Nope.”

“I will now get to the nitty-gritty of your visit.”

Roxanne frowned. “Just a minute, Mr. Ogden. If Petra and I share a grandfather, does that make us cousins? If so, wouldn’t the eldest inherit?”

“Cool your jets, young lady. It’s not that simple.”

“Let the man explain.” Petra wrung her hands. “Don’t you want to know the details?” She uncrossed her legs and then crossed her ankles.

Roxanne glanced at her and could understand her desperation. “Please continue, Mr. Ogden.”

“I know your adoptions were closed. However, as adults, you can request information about your birth parents from the Central Adoption Registry.”

“I didn’t know that. Did you, Petra?”

“Nope.” 

“I have important information, but each of you must sign a permission form before I’ll share it with you. Interested?” Ogden’s eyebrows rose.

 Despite the cool room, adrenaline-heated blood coursed through Roxanne’s body. She placed a hand on her chest where she was sure a giant fist squeezed her heart. Did she want to know who her birth parents were? Or learn about her grandfather—apparently a wealthy person?

Petra examined her long, painted fingernails and said, “I am interested. Give me the form to sign.”

Before answering the lawyer, Roxanne would love to discuss the matter with her parents, who worked at a medical mission in Zimbabwe. Not because she needed their permission, but because she wanted them to be aware before she took this drastic step. Making on-the-spot decisions had never been a problem for her, especially in her career as a nurse practitioner. “Okay, I’ll sign the form, too.”

Ogden handed out two clipboards, each holding a sheet of paper and a pen. “Read the declaration thoroughly and then sign and date, please.”

It didn’t take long to do as requested, and they returned the forms to him.

“Thank you. I’ll sign as the witness and then have copies made for you.” He turned to the inner door and called, “Mrs. Edwards.”

A couple of seconds later, she entered the office. Ogden handed her the clipboards. “Copies, please.”

He set his elbows on the desk and tented his fingers. “Your grandfather is Howard Palmer. Have either of you heard of him?”

The name did flash in Roxanne’s memory for a second. “Um, didn’t he recently sell his cattle ranch?”

“Correct. He now lives north of San Antonio, and because of health issues, wants to locate his grandchild.” Ogden held up his hand when Roxanne opened her mouth. He continued, “Mr. Palmer had two children. His daughter died in childbirth thirty-some years ago, and Benton, his reprobate son, died in 2014. He led an erratic life. He was an addict, an alcoholic, and a womanizer. My father was Howard’s attorney for a long time, and when he retired, I took over the responsibility. We were fully aware of the ins and outs of the Palmer family. Benton had two children we know about.” Ogden glanced at Petra and Roxanne in turn. “Here comes the glitch. We recently discovered Benton married one of the women who produced a child; therefore, her offspring is the legitimate heir.”

The lawyer’s revelation hung in the air like gray smog. Roxanne’s father could be Benton Palmer. Absorbing the significant information Ogden shared, she massaged her left temple. “One of us is legitimate and the other isn’t? I didn’t think people cared about that these days.”

“Howard does.”

Petra curled her lip as she looked at Roxanne. “Let me see if I have this straight. She is my half-sister, and either her mother or my mother was married to Benton. But according to your earlier statement, you and Howard don’t know which one.”

“Correct.”

“How do you expect us to find out?” Roxanne asked.

~*~   ~*~  ~*~

WOW, wonderful excerpt. Tell us a little more about yourself and how we can find you and your books...

I grew up in the former British Colony of Rhodesia, now called Zimbabwe in Central Africa. After serving as missionaries in my home country of Zimbabwe and raising two children, My husband and I moved to Texas where I worked in the public school system for many years, focusing on students with special needs. Now, I reside on the beautiful Olympic Peninsula of Washington State. A member of ACFW, I've been honored to win their Genesis Award. Meet Me in the Yorkshire Dales is my eleventh title and is available for Kindle (FREE in KU!), Paperback and Audio

You can find more about me at my Website  (sign up to receive my newsletter!) and follow me on Bookbub, Goodreads & Facebook

All of my books are available at Amazon.

Thank You So Much for Visiting us Today, Valerie!

Friends, you can check out Valerie's previous visits HERE.

Meanwhile, exciting things are coming next week so be sure and drop by often.

Until next time, take care and God Bless.

PamT

Saturday, April 26, 2025

#SaturdaySpotlight is on Jace Douglas Johnson & The Sound of Southern Rainbows!

Hello! Welcome to the final Saturday Spotlight of April 2025 and Oh, My Goodness, I can't begin to tell you how excited I am about my guest today!

I met Jace Douglas Johnson years ago after the release of his movie, Little Chenier: A Cajun Story filmed right here in my/our local area about the people of SWLA.

Jace started filming Little Chenier way-back-when but couldn't release it on schedule due to Hurricane Rita in 2005. Let me tell you, I loved/love that movie!

So, it is with great pleasure I bring to you Jace with his book, The Sound of Southern Rainbows.

 Tell me, Jace why you wrote The Sound of Southern Rainbows.

I have an unapologetic affinity for protagonists that are facing insurmountable odds. This core theme seems to weave its way into most of my stories, and The Sound of Southern Rainbows is no different. Detective Kip Montet is a tough guy with a deeply buried sensitive side. He lives by a code of hard work, hard will, and hard liquor, but despite his best efforts, the heartache just keeps piling on.  

Yet, Detective Kip Montet endures: fighting, scraping, and questioning his sanity, until he eventually finds his way back to the light—just in the nick of time.  

All my stories have an underlying hint of Christian faith nestled between the lines. It won’t smack you in the face, but it’s there if you look for it. The Sound of Southern Rainbows is no different. Detective Kip Montet stubbornly adheres to his own faulty codes of moral conduct—codes which often lead to alienation and loneliness. He is a troubled being whose salvation is ironically rooted to his martyrdom. It is only when he abandons logic and replaces it with faith that the intricate pieces of the case start to fall into place.  

Detective Kip Montet is a cowboy through and through. Our lives parallel in that regard. I grew up in a Louisiana ranch family, and I always thought our little sliver of Southwest Louisiana had a unique brand of cowboy that most know nothing about. There are hints of our Texas neighbors in there, but the Cajun influences are deeply imbued—forming a magnificent milieu that’s all our own. I wanted to present the beauty of this unique little pastoral community to the outside world. With all my works, I treat Louisiana as the main character, and The Sound of Southern Rainbows is no different. 

How interesting! Give us more please...

Sure!

Blurb: There’s a serial killer in Lacassine, Louisiana, and little Cricket Moreau has gone missing. 

Haunted by a decade’s worth of failure and regret, Detective Kip Montet is determined to find the little girl before it’s too late. As he navigates through the small Southern town of eccentric characters, from powerful senators to kooky old medicine men, Detective Montet comes face to face with the woes of his past, and the demons that lurk in the shadows of Lacassine Bayou.  

Oh wow, how cool. I used to fish Lacassine Bayou! Now how about an excerpt?

Here ya go... That’s weird, thought Kip, as his gaze drifted to a particularly troubling item: a white ceramic bowl filled with thousands of buzzing flies.

Kip slowly stretched his gun forward. The flies busily scrambled like a blanket of bees on a hive. He tapped the rim of the bowl with the tip of his muzzle. The veil of buzzing wings quickly ascended.  

Kip stumbled backward with a startle. “Jesus Christ!” He covered his nose with his sleeve and turned his back. 

“What is it?” Beasley begged. 

Kip retreated to Beasley’s side. He grabbed his knees and pulled in a composing breath. His voice shook with a whispery exhale, “A baby girl.” 

OH My Gosh! What a hook. Where can we find The Sound of Southern Rainbows?

It is available at Amazon in Hardcover, Paperback and for Kindle (FREE in KU!).

Thanks for sharing Jace! Please tell us a little more about yourself...

I enjoyed the visit, Pam. Thank You! Here is my "official" bio...

Jace Douglas Johnson is a native of Lake Charles, Louisiana. His bucolic writing style, inspired by his love for Louisiana, has drawn comparisons to William Faulkner and G.W. Cable. His works are influenced by an unapologetic nostalgia for the barefoot days of his childhood: a magical time filled with ancient live oaks, stringers of fish, and imaginary pirates.    

After graduating from the prestigious Claremont McKenna College in Los Angeles, Jace immersed himself in the world of filmmaking—resulting in a career of writing, directing, producing, and acting that has spanned over 30 years.   

Jace has recently released the Southern Gothic novel, The Sound of Southern Rainbows, as well as his historical fiction, Charles Claiborne: The Cost of Blood which is also available at Amazon in Hardcover, Paperback and for Kindle (also FREE in KU)

Jace is best known for co-writing and producing the film, Little Chenier: A Cajun Story, which was based on his novella, Little Chenier, Les Jours De Pemon which is available on DVD & Blu-ray.

Jace currently resides in New Orleans, Louisiana. He is a local tour guide and a wannabe historian. He is an outdoorsman and naturalist that yearns for the simplicities of yore.  

Connect with Jace on Facebook.

Well, friends, hope you enjoyed today's guest! It's always a pleasure to feature authors and artists from all over the world but a special treat when it's someone from my native area.

While you're here, visit my featured artist, Pat Robbins & The Kozy Knot and check out the featured book in the sidebar, Not Your Lucky Day by L.R. Trovillion!

Until next time, take care and God bless.
PamT

Saturday, April 19, 2025

#SaturdaySpotlight is on Dianne Miley & Violets for Vanessa!

Good Morning and Welcome to another edition of Saturday Spotlight.

Last month, Dianne shared with us the updated versions of the first two books in her Crystal Falls series. Today she joins us with book, 3, Violets for Vanessa.

Welcome back, Dianne! Tell us why you wrote Violets for Vanessa...

I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks (literally) in poverty and abuse. So, I related to Vanessa Gallagher when she showed up in Lilacs for Laura and Roses for Rachel. As the girl from the wrong side of the creek, her story begged to be told. Laura and Rachel's older brother Chad needed a heroine of his own, and with his soft spot for underdogs, Vanessa couldn't have been a better fit. Vanessa is beautiful but doesn't know it. She's shy and reserved, but determined and feisty and strong. Vanessa grows up impoverished and abused, but she's not afraid to step out of that downtrodden existence to make a new life for herself, protect her mother, and fight for love. Vanessa Gallagher is my favorite kind of heroine for what she's been through and what she becomes. That's why I wrote her story.

Oh My Goodness, I'm sure a lot of people can relate to Vanessa's story. Give us more please...

I hope so, Pam and my greatest desire is Violets for Vanessa gives readers hope that they can overcome whatever they are going through. Below is the blurb and exerpt...

Blurb: Struggling to be free of her abusive father, Vanessa Gallagher cannot resist handsome contractor Chad James. Although she fears being controlled by another man, his kind encouragement comforts her and his kisses leave her wanting more. When Mr. Gallagher meets his doom at the bottom of a cliff, police suspect Vanessa’s mother. Will Chad help absolve her? Who will uncover the truth in an unexpected turn of events? And will Vanessa ever choose love over independence?  

Excerpt: Dark clouds masked the hot July sun as a whining rattle descended upon Vanessa Gallagher. Picking wild violets on her walk home from work, she looked up to see a rusted white car break over the horizon.

On the wrong side of the rural Ohio road, the car wove toward her at breakneck speed. The driver’s scraggly white beard tilted forward as his head leaned back, swilling a beer.

Vanessa dove for the ditch. Gravel sprayed her from the edge of the road as her father’s car whizzed past. The beer can whipped from his window and bounced across the pavement.

Fear rose in her chest as clouds crashed above her. Clyde Gallagher hit the bars but saved getting drunk for fights with her mother. Ominous dread clutched Vanessa. She leapt from the ditch and broke into a run.

A piercing clap of thunder startled her. She tripped and fell to her knees on the rough asphalt. Jumping to her feet, she dashed toward home, ignoring the trickle of blood pooling in her shoes.

With an approaching rumble, a big blue beast of a pickup roared toward her. Her heart skipped a beat when she recognized the handsome driver.

He nodded.

She kept running until the truck slowed to a stop. Out of breath, she paused beside the enormous tires. Waist-high, raised white letters read Mud Luggers.

Chad James leaned his head out the window. Country music blared from inside, singing Who’s Your Daddy?

“Need a ride?” Chad asked.

Her stomach flipped and her heart thudded.

“Yes!” she blurted, in a hurry to see her mama.

Yet she cringed at this gorgeous hunk driving up to that shack with the peeling paint and rotting steps. Everyone in Crystal Falls knew where she lived, but he didn’t need the close-up view.

Chad jumped from his truck and noticed the bleeding knees beneath her black skirt.

“Did you fall?” His voice held genuine concern as he looked into her eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, but I’m fine. I’m in a hurry to get home.” Heat flushed her neck and face, hot to her natural platinum hairline. She had to be as red as a raspberry. There was no hiding a blush like this with skin as Scottish pale as hers. Self-conscious under his scrutiny, she wore no makeup, and her plain long hair hadn’t been professionally cut in her twenty-five-year lifetime. How she wished she were prettier, more outgoing, good enough for a man like Chad James. 

“Trying to beat the rain?” Chad raised a seductive eyebrow.

Like an omen, the truck reverberated into low idle, and a flash of lightning lit the sky, followed by a thunderous boom. Rain poured from the heavens, drenching them in an instant.

“Too late,” she yelled over the din. At least the shower cooled her heated face.

“Come on.” Laughing, he ushered her to the passenger side of his truck.

He opened the door, a courtesy that made her stare up at him in surprise.

“Hop in!”

Conflicted between her distrust of men, her attraction to Chad James, and her need to get home quickly, she scrambled to climb in the truck. Her foot slipped on the wet step. She careened but Chad caught her by the waist and hefted her up.

Unnerved by his touch, she ducked just in time to miss banging her head. He shut the door and ran to the driver’s side.

In one smooth motion, he was behind the wheel. Rain dripped from the bill of his black ball cap. A lock of dark hair slipped onto his forehead as he jammed the shifter into gear. The truck growled awake and lurched forward.  He turned the truck around. 

“I hate to see a pretty girl all alone on the road.” He winked at her before shifting into second.

Pretty? And was that a wink? Vanessa’s heart floated to the sky. She’d had a crush on Chad James forever. Actually, since the day she started working in her dad’s bait shop.

Chad had been her first customer. The wiggling worms kept wrangling out of the stinkin’ foam cup. Her father humiliated her, as usual, but Chad showed her how to scoop them up.

Unafraid to touch her, Chad gently guided her hands. Then he looked her straight in the eye, right into her soul, without a speck of pity. She had been eight years old, and she’d never forget it.

Very few people looked her in the eye, none without pity.

In no time, her family’s wooden cabin came into sight looking like a step back to the forties. A sign the length of the sagging roofline read BAIT in weathered red paint.

Chad pulled into the weedy gravel parking lot, past the makeshift clothesline filled with dripping clothes. She cringed at the leaning outhouse, complete with a crescent moon in the door and wasps’ nests in the eaves – a remnant of her childhood.

The embarrassing blush returned. Anxious to check on her mother, she offered a nervous, “Thank you for the ride.” She reached for the door handle while the truck was still rolling.

“Anytime – Big Blue at your service.” Chad caught her eye with a heart-stopping grin. Then his jaw dropped as he looked past her.

Her head spun to see her mother slumped in the doorway. Blood trailed from her nose and one eye swelled shut.

The big truck skidded to a stop. Vanessa bailed out in the rain and rushed to her mother’s side.

“Get me...inside,” Darla Gallagher choked. Her graying blonde hair stuck out in wet clumps and her rubbery limbs struggled to gain footing.

Vanessa tried to prop her up, but Darla lifted from her grasp. Tall, strapping Chad James cradled her mother in his muscular arms and carried her into the house. Back straight and strong, he gently laid her on the sofa. He inspected her arms and legs. “Is anything broken?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Darla covered her face with one hand. “I tripped and fell running in from the rain.”

Vanessa recognized the lie and acutely felt her mother’s shame. Chad turned to her, brows furrowed and eyes full of compassion.

“Would you like a ride to the hospital?”

“No hospital,” Darla growled.

“No but thank you.” Heat rose to Vanessa’s cheeks. She hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a clean towel. “I’ll keep an eye on her, but I’m sure she’ll be all right.”

“Okay.” Empathy poured from Chad’s voice. “How can I help?”

“You’ve done enough.” She smiled uneasily. “I’ll take care of her from here.”

“If you need anything, call me.” His knowing eyes were unconvinced. He dug a wallet from his back pocket and handed her a business card.

Chadwick Builders – Custom Homes Built to Your Specifications. His name and address were printed at the bottom with his office number, cell phone, and a fax line.

His warm hand squeezed her shoulder, and he caught her eyes.

“Anything, anytime – really.”

Dumbfounded, she tucked the card in her pocket and nodded dismissively. At the sink, she turned on the faucet to wet the towel.

Seeming hesitant to leave, Chad looked at the muddy footprints on the cracked linoleum floor. His shoulders slumped. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem.” Ashamed to her core, she wanted him to leave, but he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped bits of mud on his way out the door.

Awed by his considerate kindness, Vanessa watched through the window as she wrung out the towel. 

Long legs clad in jeans disappeared around the chrome bumper. Black work boots trudged past the front tires. The big blue truck dipped slightly as he climbed in. He looked over with a tentative half-smile.

Heart pounding with longing, uncertainty, and fear, she hurried away to tend her mother. How long before her father returned?

“You can’t let him keep doing this to you, Mama. He’s getting worse.” She dabbed drying blood from her mother’s face. Hand-shaped bruises marred Darla’s arms. Vanessa lifted her mother’s shorts over a purple mass on one thigh. It spread clear to her hip. Biting back angry tears, she checked her torso. Relief washed over Vanessa when she found no bruises that might suggest internal injury. “We’re getting out of here. Soon. I almost have enough money saved.”

Darla’s moans joined the comforting rumble of Chad’s truck, punctuated with eerie growls of thunder in the distance.

Big, black Mud Luggers rolled past the darkened living room window. Airbrushed white letters screamed across the tailgate: Rebel.

Vanessa reached in her pocket to reverently touch the embossed lettering on his card. Fragile hope tugged her heart. Would he really come back if she called?

Did she really want him to?

Long ago, she vowed never to be controlled by a man.

Unlike her mother, she’d make her own decisions and take care of herself. First, she’d get away from Clyde Gallagher as soon as she could. Once she had an apartment, her ticket to real freedom would be buying a car. No man could stop her then.

Love was a nice notion, but men stole your independence – not to mention your dignity and self-worth.

Love or independence – she couldn’t have both.

What an excellent excerpt! Thank You for sharing. Now tell us more about yourself and where we can find you and this wonderful book...

Thank you, Pam here are my bio and links...

Dianne Miley writes to share God’s hope, love, and grace. Her Crystal Falls Series includes: Lilacs for Laura; Roses for Rachel; Violets for Vanessa; and Sunflowers for Sarita. She contributed short stories to three anthologies: A Holy City Christmas; Charleston Light; and When You Pass Through Waters. She also authored a non-fiction book, Time to Enjoy Your Blessings. All books, as well as her blog can be found on www.diannemiley.com.

When she's not writing or reading, Dianne enjoys time with family and friends. She and her husband have two married children and two adorable grandchildren. She also enjoys cooking, gardening, flower arranging, tea parties, the beach, and her wrap-around porch. She founded a nonprofit, Sanctuary of Unborn Life in Charleston, South Carolina to help pregnant women in need. She now lives near Charlotte, North Carolina. 

Find and Follow Dianne at the following SM sites...

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Violets for Vanessa can be found at Amazon for Kindle (Free in KU) and in Paperback

Wonderful! We certainly wish you the best of luck and God's blessings.

Thank YOU, Friends for visiting Saturday Spotlight. I pray your Easter weekends is Blessed and Happy.

Be sure and check out Dianne's other books, Roses for Rachel and Lilacs for Laura as well as Violets for Vanessa.

Until next time, take care and God bless.

PamT