I was one busy woman this weekend, between running my children and niece from one mall to the next, open house, grocery shopping, cleaning, and watching my infant niece. It was all so tiring, yet so fulfilling and rewarding...just spending time with those who are important in my life.

Sometimes we look for opportunities to minister to others, and sometimes the opportunity falls in our paths. The only thing that we can do in those moments is be obedient to the Lord and allow Him to use us. I was witness to some things this weekend, and also had conversations with the young people in my life that actually inspired me. I tried to be the best that I could be, and share a word of encouragement that they could take with them throughout the year.

You don't always know if the word was well received, or understood, or even if it made a difference. All you can do is be obedient, pray, and allow Him to do the rest. This particular time I received a confirmation via a text message that my message was received, and I just pray that it will continue to inspire and strengthen.  

Below are some of the Scriptures that I shared with the children in my life. As they start a new day of school today, they will face many challenges. I can only pray they will recall some of what I have shared, as well as lessons that my husband and I have tried to teach them.

I don't know what obstacles lie in your way this week, or in the month ahead, but I pray that you will find some encouragement in the Scriptures below...

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who[a] have been called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28

Please leave a comment below. I would love to hear from you!

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Creative Expressions Literary Services is pleased to announce Virtual Book Tour for Beautiful by Sylvia Hubbard. The tour will run July 23-August 6, 2017.
Publication Date: July 7, 2017
Genre: Romance and Suspense
Paperback: 324 pages

Sylvia Hubbard knew she’d wanted to be a writer of romance long before she knew there were black writers in the world. Weaving stories magically as a summer past time to writing stories to get through the humdrum of school, she was able to create something from nothing.
Today, she has independently published over 40 books, is the founder of Motown Writers Network and The Michigan Literary Network, CEO of HubBooks Literary Services, runs over five blogs on a variety of subjects, host The Michigan Literary Network Radio Show and is a happily divorced mother of three children in Detroit, Michigan.
 
“I’m no superwoman,” she states with a smile that seems infinite on her lips. “I’m just being an asset in the world instead of a liability.”

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Tour hosted by Creative Expressions Literary Services

Click Here To Follow The Tour

Please leave a comment below. Sylvia would love to hear from you!

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Hello loyal readers, and welcome to another #WriterWednesday! This past Saturday night I had the privilege of being a featured author on It's Lit with M.J. Kane. My fellow author and former writers' group leader invited me on her show to dish on writing, life, and to sample a little of the fruits of the vine.

To say we had a great time does not begin to explain our night. Between her and her cousin, LadyKane the hysterics were never ending from before the show started until after it ended. I do enjoy in person events when I do them, but seldom do I attend them because I am introverted. Yet, they both had me quite a bit relaxed as we kicked it about everything under the sun. And that was before we sipped a little Sangria. My daughter was in the studio with us as well, and she enjoyed watching us clown.

We talked about writing love scenes and our challenges in that area. Personally, I have a love scene that's my favorite in her book, Lonely Heart, which happens to be the third book in The Butterfly Series.
It is a brief interaction between Kaitlyn and Antonio that has both rocking on the edge.

Anyhoo, today, I would like to share with you that particular body of work that Mrs. Kane so lovingly and creatively crafted. Check it out below. Also, there's a link to watch our interview that we did on last Saturday night, in case you missed it...

 “The only way to speak the truth is to speak lovingly.” – Henry David Thoreau

 “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.” -Dr. Suess

Write Now Literary is pleased to announce Who Killed My Husband? By Michelle Stimpson
Virtual Book Tour. July 17-28, 2017.  @wnlbooktours @ StimpsonTweets
 
Genre: Short Story/Mystery
 
ASIN: B071743ZLP

Chapter 1
“Thank you for doing this, Allan.” I kept my eyes steady on the unfamiliar, winding road sprawling before me. Already, I had braked three times for sharp turns and a pothole. 

Allan, ears covered by headphones, bobbed as though he didn’t hear my compliment. His baby smooth skin, dimples, and semi-mohawk haircut made him look much younger than thirty-two. So young, in fact, that a few times, twenty-something chicks at his DJing events had mistaken me as his older sister or his manager, even though I was only thirty. Allan thought that was funny. “It’s good for business,” he’d say, flashing his boyish grin.

I was tired of him acting like a boy. A guy. A dude. A bro. I needed him to grow up and be a man. Start thinking about things that mattered, namely his eternity. Since Allan had agreed to attend this non-church-affiliated men’s retreat, I thought my prayers were finally being answered. I had gone all out to take off work early so I could take him to Peaceful Days. Even dusted on some makeup and flat-ironed my wavy mane so he’d have this awesome picture of me in the back of his mind all weekend.

I tapped him on the shoulder and mouthed again, “Thank you for doing this.”

I knew better than to expect a “Sure thing, Ashley,” or “It’s my pleasure to go,” from him. He was either ignoring me or caught up in his music. No matter, I was used to being blocked out of his life by music, working at KRBF FM radio Dallas. His side gigs. His friends. His lifestyle.

Still, my eyes watered for a moment. The rejection stung worse than a bee. At least when a bee stung, it was defending its own territory. Allan and I were supposed to be one in God’s sight. Why he chose to turn on me—his wife of six years—and treat me like the enemy was unreasonable. We were on the same team.

At least we were until Corey died.

Blinking tears away, my vision cleared just in time to spot a pretty good-sized animal dart into the road. I slammed on the brakes. My stomach squirmed. I winced, hoping the thing had escaped being crushed.
A second later, my body relaxed. Whatever it was hadn’t become a bump under my wheels.

“Geez Louise!” Allan yelled. “Can you not see?”

“It came out of nowhere!” I pointed toward the open field on the passenger’s side.

“I saw it a mile away!” he claimed, motioning toward his window. “You’re not paying attention.”

“Neither are you!”

Allan pulled the headphones down so they dangled around his neck. “I’m paying plenty of attention to the road. Can’t say the same about you since you nearly got us killed.”
Cautiously, I continued our path to the campgrounds.

“Do you need me to drive?” he asked with a hint of sympathy in his voice.

This was my husband’s way of apologizing. He wouldn’t just come out and say, “Babe, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” He’d offer to do something.

“No,” I said. That was my way of not accepting his roundabout apology.

I had grounds for a full-blown argument. How dare he accuse me of trying to kill us? And why am I driving anyway—I’m the woman! Real men know how to step up and take the wheel in more ways than one. Top that off with the fact that my heart was still racing from the animal-in-the-road scare, and I was primed.

But I didn’t want to go there. Not now. Especially not today. Allan had finally agreed to attend a Christian men’s conference for the weekend, and I’d been praying that God would use this weekend to touch my husband’s heart. Having a big blowout of an argument just before dropping him off wouldn’t exactly be productive.

Thanks to a few books I’d been reading and the personal advice of the Holy Spirit, I had come to the point of understanding that, apparently, Allan was in the “may be won without a word” category. I just needed to keep my mouth zipped and let God do His thing. Problem number one: Allan had a knack for provoking me. Problem number two: I wasn’t always obedient. Problem number three: God was taking

His sweet time.

My husband pressed a dial on his headphones. “Hello?”

The caller spoke loud enough for me to hear that it was a man. A hollering man.

“Wait up, man! I gotchu! My first payment isn’t even due until next month, bro,” Allan said.

I put two and two together and realized he was talking to Jerry Albright, the man who had helped finance my husband’s acquisition of the radio station where he worked.

“I’mma have yo money like I said, at the time we agreed to,” Allan said forcefully, slipping into a strong southern accent. “Why you tryna collect early?”

The rest of the conversation was much more calm. Allan wasn’t playing with Jerry. But neither was Jerry playing with Allan, apparently.

Great. Now we have loan sharks after us. This whole DJ Pistol Whip persona was getting out of control.

“Aight. I’ll talk to you next week. I’m gonna be at a…some kind of thing my old lady set me up to…
Naw…you know I ain’t goin’ out like that! I got a reputation to protect!” Allan laughed.

Thank God they’re laughing and not threatening each other.

Whatever the man had suggested was probably too civil for DJ Pistol Whip to admit to.

“I’ll catch you later.” He took the headphones off, mumbling to himself that Jerry was crazy. His thumbs whittled away at a message to somebody.

“In one-half mile, turn left on Prayer Lane,” the navigation system instructed.

Allan chuckled. “Prayer Lane.” He pushed his headphones back in place.

I could hardly wait for that half a mile to come and go so I could drop him off at that camp and burn rubber on my way out. I figured, if nothing else, at least I’d get a weekend away from him

As we neared the grounds, we were welcomed by the United States flag, the Texas flag, and the Christian flag. Flowers bloomed in pristine arrangements lining the entryway’s white picket fence. Green grass rolled for acres between small buildings with country flair. A large pond sparkled in the midst of the camp. The scenery alone should have been enough to let Allan know that God is real and loves to bring beauty into this world.

Peaceful Days Camp was painted in bright red letters on a wooden sign. Underneath the facility name was the phrase Come all who labor.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Allan yelled. His music’s volume must have been so loud he didn’t realize how his voice carried. “Laboring is what I need to be doing this Friday night instead of hanging out with some chumps at a camp.”

“Really?” I yelled loud enough for him to hear me. “You think judging a twerking contest is labor?”

“It’s a hard job, but somebody’s gotta do it,” he shouted back. “DJing and vibin’ with the hip hop culture is the way I make my money. You knew who you were marrying when you married DJ Pistol Whip, right?”

“I didn’t marry DJ Pistol Whip. I married Allan Crandall.”

“One and the same, baby. One and the same.” He bobbed his head even harder and started throwing punches in the air as though fighting an imaginary foe.

All I could do was poke out my lips. He had a point. Allan had turned into this persona he’d created to earn a living. He was very good at what he did. A part of me was glad that he loved his work. But when that work involved MCing wet T-shirt contests, I had a problem. A serious problem.

I followed the signs to the H. P. Lewis men’s dormitory, which had been mentioned in the series of emails leading up to the retreat. Of course, all of the email messages came to me, since Allan wasn’t about to keep track of anything regarding this event.

I parked and, almost immediately, Allan hopped out. I pushed the button to open the back window so he could retrieve his bags. As he walked around to the back of our vehicle, I got the paperwork from my purse. Suddenly, I felt like a mother must feel when she’s dropping her child off at kindergarten. The joy. The pain. The pride.

A sadness swept over me as I wondered: Will I ever experience that for myself?

Thoughts of little Corey filled my mind, nearly overtaking me with their intensity. He would have been three years old the following week. “Horrible Threes” I’d heard people called them. People wouldn’t say such negative things about babies and children—about them waking up in the middle of the night, the crying, the teething, the getting into everything—if they realized what a blessing it was to have a living, breathing, normal, healthy child.

The tears had come too quickly for me to blink them away. I swiped them from my eyes.
Allan closed the back window.

I got out of the car to see him off. I had planned to give him a big kiss and a hug in Jesus’s name, but I wasn’t feeling my husband or Jesus at the moment.

Allan hoisted his backpack on his shoulder as he walked toward me.

All around us were couples saying goodbye. Hugging, slight pecks, praying with one another.

I looked up at him. Forced a smile. “Have a good weekend.”

The heavy weight of concern crossed his face. “Why are you crying, Ashley? I’m at the retreat, okay? This is what you wanted, right?”

As mean as Allan could be sometimes, he always fell apart at the slightest hint of wetness on my face.

Peering into his eyes, I wondered why on earth God had allowed these crazy twists and turns in my life. My son’s death. My failing marriage. Even my mother’s dementia, which had been a long time coming, seemed an odd ending to such a good life.

If only my husband and I were on the same page, spiritually, I could lean on him. We could pray for each other. He could actually love me like Christ loved the church, and I could be submissive because I respected him, and life would be…well…easier and holier and basically better.

But I knew not to share my thoughts to Allan. No sense in talking to a brick wall.

Allan hugged me. “Get some rest this weekend. I know.…” He sighed. “I know what today is.”

“Yeah.”

Allan still couldn’t say Corey’s name.

A tinny beat came from the headphones, interrupting our silent moment.

“Are you going to wear those all weekend?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I guess, when we’re not doing anything.”

I thrust the itinerary into his hand. “You’ve got a full weekend. There’s no way you’ll have time for music.”

“There’s always time for music, baby.” He gave a charming smile.

I sighed. Twisted my lips to the side. This was a joke to him. If all he planned to do was go to the classes between vulgar songs, my efforts to get him here had been nothing but a waste of time, effort, money, hope, and prayers.

I blew a cool breeze from my mouth. “You’re right. It’s totally up to you, Allan. Enjoy yourself.” I turned and opened the driver’s side door, not wanting him to see my fresh batch of tears. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to manipulate him by crying. Guilt-induced expressions of love were always disingenuous and short-lived.

Allan grasped my arm. “Ashley. Wait.” He squared up my shoulders before I had a chance to wipe my cheeks dry.

“I’m here because I want to be here.” He swallowed. “I’m tired of fighting with you. I can’t change what happened. I can’t fix everything like I want to. And I don’t know God like you want me to. But I’m here this weekend because I do care.”

“If you care, then listen? Take off your headphones and listen to what’s in here.” I placed my hand on his heart.

Slowly, my husband removed the black headset. He put it around my neck. Smiled. “You could use some music this weekend, I bet.”

I giggled slightly. “You’re probably right.”

He rested his forehead on mine. “I love you, pretty brown-eyed girl.”

His nickname for me, based on the Mint Condition 90s song, still made me melt. I twisted my lips to one side, then gave way to a smile of my own. “Love you, too. See you Sunday.”

The truth was: I loved Allan and I knew he loved me. But if God didn’t fix him that weekend, I didn’t know what I was going to do. We’d already tried counseling. Well, I tried counseling. Allan went twice and said it was a waste of time. I bought his-and-hers versions of do-it-yourself couples therapy-type books. Allan never got past the first few chapters. I was getting to the end of my strategies for improvement.

Friday night found me in bed crying as I flipped through pictures of our wedding. We were so happy back then. We had the rest of our lives in front of us.

Or so I thought.

Taking off the afternoon and enduring the tension with Allan almost all the way to the camp had taken a lot out of me. I didn’t want to argue with my husband. I didn’t want to be so judgmental. I just didn’t know any other way to make him see how much he needed Jesus.

Rather than cry my eyes swollen, I decided to get up and do some work. I logged into my employer’s system and began to edit and comment on documents the team had uploaded. If nothing else, I could at least find some success at work.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Who-Killed-Husband-Michelle-Stimpson-ebook/dp/B071743ZLP
 
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/who-killed-my-husband-michelle-stimpson/1126439599?ean=9781537890104
 
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/who-killed-my-husband/id1239454458?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4
 
Google: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Michelle_Stimpson_Who_Killed_My_Husband?id=Z50kDwAAQBAJ
 
 
Connect Socially:
 
 
Twitter handle https://twitter.com/StimpsonTweets
 
Facebook http://www.Facebook.com/Michelle.Stimpson2
 
Website http://www.MichelleStimpson.com
 
Tour hosted by Write Now Literary Book Tours www.wnlbooktour.com

This #writerwednesday I'm sharing an excerpt from book 2 of A Woman's Design Duology. This one is entitled A Woman's Design: Redemption, scheduled for release late summer/early fall. I have used the beautiful Karen Denise Aubert, or K.D. Aubert/K.D. Rose to portray the visual depiction of what Paige looks like in my head.

Paige had many challenges to face in book 1, and at times some experienced pity for her, while others simply despised her ways. In book 2 she's back and ready to face up to and own all she's ever done. Yet, it won't be an easy road, as people from her past come back to hold her accountable. Read on...

I sat on the sofa all in my feelings about the way he was treating me. I still didn’t see me as the one with the problem. I was being rejected by Vic. Not to mention I had been unable to find a one-night-stand all weekend.

I pressed my fists against my eyes trying to stem the flow of tears. What was wrong with me?

“Paige, I’m gonna be here for you and I won’t let you push me away. But we’re doing it on my terms, not yours. The last time I allowed you to use sex to run our relationship even when I just wanted to kick it. You ruined it. This time…our friendship will be based on mutual respect and understanding. I love you, but you’re not gonna run me. If we escalate into something more it will be built off mutual respect, honesty, trust, and friendship. I’m not into casual fucking. Is that language you understand?”

I was shocked. Vic had never spoken to me like that before. This aggressive tone and cursing at me was something completely new. I didn’t know how to feel about it.

“Look, I didn’t ask you to come over here and judge me, Vic!” I shouted. I stomped to my bedroom.

He followed after me and grabbed me roughly by the arm.

“I know you didn’t ask me to come, Paige! I came because—” He suddenly stopped and looked at the empty bottles lying on the floor on the side of my bed.

Grabbing a Vodka bottle and a gin bottle sitting on my night stand, he turned around and glared at me.

“What are you gonna do with all this?” His voice rose in anger as he pushed past where I stood.  

“What are you doing, Vic?” I ran behind him as he rushed through the bathroom door.

I slapped at his hands and screamed at him as he poured all of my precious booze down the tub.

“Stop!” I screamed repeatedly. But it was as if my words fell on deaf ears because he kept on. I tried to pull the remaining bottles from his hands, causing one of them to shatter in the tub.

I pounded on his back with my fists and began kicking him in the legs. Nothing I did seemed to faze him as he continued pouring out the last drops. I crumpled to the floor letting the sobs wrack my body.

“I hate you, Vic! Get the fuck out my house now!” I jumped from the floor and attacked him again.

Vic sat the bottles down in the tub, turned around and picked me up, and tossed me over his shoulder.

My fists flailed against his back as he carried me out the bathroom and tossed me on my bed.

I jumped up and ran after him again but he made it into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

I kicked at the door trying to get in. Unfortunately, the locks on my door weren’t simple to pick with a clothes hanger like the locks on our bedroom doors when I grew up.

I went back to my bed, lay down and succumbed to my sorrow and pity party.

I could hear him moving around inside and soon afterwards I smelt the scent of bleach, and the lemon cleaning agents I used in my bathroom.

Vic came out a while later as I lay on my bed, my face pressed against my tear-soaked pillow.

He had a garbage bag in his hand filled with the empty and broken liquor bottles clinking inside. He walked to my bed and stared at me for a second. I didn’t want to acknowledge it, but the only thing that I saw in his eyes was love. His patient attitude towards me was not warranted when I had been so vile towards him.

He leaned over me and spoke in a loving, but firm tone. “I’m out, Paige. And for the record I came because I cared. You act like you don’t know what to do with that. But I’m gonna teach you.” He kissed me on the forehead and left.

Hi, good people! Author Selena Haskins is dropping by again to open up to us. The first time she stopped by to share her novel, Yesterday Was A Long Time Ago. Today, she's opening up allowing us to get to know Selena the writer and Selena the woman. Don't miss this one on one chat that she and I shared. So grab your mug, curl up in your favorite chair, and take a peek...

AUTHOR INTERVIEW QUESTIONS_THE BEAUTIFULLY INSPIRED BLOG
 
CHELLE: Selena, we have to know just how organized or chaotic you are. Plotter or Pantser?

SELENA: Pantser

CHELLE: You’re already dear to my heart. I love the fly by the seat of our pants mentality that allows even the author to be surprised at what happens next. Tell us a little about yourself? Who is Selena the woman?
SELENA: I’m a woman who loves God, her family, and the craft of writing stories. I love to travel, listen to music, watch my Boston Celtics play, and spend quality time with my family.  

CHELLE: Another thing we have in common. I’m a basketball fan, too, and I love all of the other things that you just mentioned. It definitely makes life worth living. Tell the readers and our other writers who may struggle with this, how do you create work/life balance being an author?

SELENA: It’s a juggling act. I’m always making adjustments so that my Heavenly Father and family comes first.

CHELLE: Isn’t that truly the key? When those things are in place, everything else will fall into place. Describe a day around your house and in your ordinary life where writing is not key.

SELENA: An ordinary day around my house consists of taking care of my family’s needs spiritually and physically. Preparing dinner, helping my son with his homework, preparing for work, and making our weekends fun. As a family, we will watch movies, play games, and attend a fun event or gathering.

CHELLE: Most authors have a routine they settle into when they prepare to write. Yet, others toss routine out the window and go with the flow. Tell us about your writing routine.

SELENA: I definitely go with the flow. I find that using outlines or anything structured disturbs my creativity.

CHELLE: I have tried that in the past, and it didn’t work for me either. I believe everyone has their own special magic that they bring to their art. Now with that being said, I love music, and I love writing to music. Sooo…Pandora or Spotify? What would we find on your playlist?

SELENA: I actually prefer iHeart Radio. My playlist includes a mix of old school R&B & new. Phyllis Hyman, Teena Marie, Chaka Khan, Stevie Wonder, Teddy P., Luther V., EWF, Prince, MJ, MJB, Bruno Mars, Drake, the list goes on.

CHELLE: You’ve got some great ones on that list. I used to go back and forth between iHeart and Pandora, until I learned about Spotify. I think I’ll try them out again, since I haven’t tuned in for quite some time now. Did you keep a journal or diary as a child growing up? If so, what secret did you not want your parents to read?

SELENA: I did keep a journal as a child. I never wanted my parents to know about the crushes I had on different boys in school.

CHELLE: Oookay, the juicy stuff! LOL!! What genre do you write and why? What authors have influenced your writings?

SELENA: I generally write family sagas, but my latest novel is a historical romance. Authors who influenced my writing would be Connie Briscoe, Carl Weber, Omar Tyree, Margaret Johnson-Hodge, and J. California Cooper.

CHELLE: If you could pair up with another author to write, who would you choose and why?

SELENA: I would love to pair up with Carl Weber. He includes a lot of twists and turns in his books that leaves the readers wanting more. I love the drama and suspense that he creates.

CHELLE: That definitely sounds intriguing. If your latest release were turned into a movie, what actors would you select to play the starring roles, and what music would comprise the soundtrack?

SELENA: Wow, I would be honored to see that happen! For Germaine Landry, I would select Monica Calhoun, and for Angelo Pearson, I would find a male model with beautiful eyes and a nice body or I would pick Christian Keyes and have him wear hazel contacts. LOL

CHELLE: Hmmm, sounds like you’ve put quite a bit of thought into that one. Yes, that would be an honor for a writer to see something like that come to pass. Truly a writer’s dream come true. How do you handle writer’s block?

SELENA: I normally step away from it for a while, sometimes weeks or months.  

CHELLE: Mountains or the beach?

SELENA: Beach!

CHELLE: I’m on my way to one this coming week! Provide one marketing tip for upcoming authors that has worked for you.

SELENA: Social media does work as far as reaching people from all over the globe. However, direct sales still work best for me. There’s nothing like face-to-face contact, and you’ll be surprised how excited people react when they meet and author in-person.

CHELLE: Thanks for that, Selena. If there was one thing you would want your readers to know after reading your works, what would it be?

SELENA: Love with your whole heart, learn to forgive, and move on. Accept what you can change and change, and what you cannot, let it go. That’s the theme for all of my books. 

CHELLE: Good advice, people, please take note. Selena, writers often have to forsake time with friends and family when deadlines are looming, or the creative muse is flowing. What one person has been your greatest supporter on your publishing journey? 

SELENA: We do sacrifice time, even our personal time. My greatest supporter has been my husband who tends to our son when I have deadlines.

CHELLE: Nothing like having an excellent support system in place. After all of the stress of daily living and writing, you need time to unwind. Describe your idea of the perfect “me-time.” 

SELENA: The perfect “me-time” is sitting on a beach under a shady umbrella while reading a good book.

CHELLE: Kobe or LeBron?

SELENA: Are you kidding me? NEITHER ONE!

CHELLE: Really, Selena? I’m so disappointed. LOL! We live life beautifully inspired here, at The Beautifully Inspired Blog. Leave us with an inspirational post, comprised of three words.

SELENA: Love, Forgive, Accept.

CHELLE: People, those are words to live by. If we can graciously and humbly do those three things life will be so much better. One day, one step at a time. Selena, thanks so much for joining us today and giving us a peek into your life. People, please show her some love by leaving a comment below.

Hi people, It's another #writerwednesday and we're celebrating the new release of Love's Hope by Author Ja'Nese Dixon! Drop in and check out what she's got to share, and enter her giveaway!

Sandra James has life all figured out, or so she thinks. But her successful business, commitment-averse boyfriend, and her sister’s shotgun wedding threaten her health and sanity. She will run to Love Never Fails Retreat in hopes of relinquishing her childhood dreams and embracing her reality even if it breaks her heart.
This is Book 2 in an inspirational romance novella set in a small Texas ranch that you can read as a stand-alone or as part of the series.
Ready for Love Romance Series
Book 1: Caramel Surprise
Book 2: Love’s Hope
Book 3: Hidden Desire
LOVE’S HOPE is an inspirational romantic novella that originally appeared in Love Never Fails: An Anthology.

“Don’t get me started again. My mascara can only take one meltdown a day.”
Their laughter filled the car. That was why she called him.

“And where does Alonso fit into this scenario?”

She knew she couldn’t slide that one pass him. Her boyfriend, correction, ex-boyfriend wanted to play house and told her he had no plans of getting married anytime soon. Her vision was cloudy again.
Sandra wiped away the tears, taking deep breathes. It was over.

“I can’t stay in a relationship not headed to marriage,” she stated. Not to mention her “Get Married” deadline was approaching. And there went her “Start a Family” goal too.

“So are the tears are for him?”

Sandra shook her head, “No.” Alone in her SUV. Sitting in traffic. She knew she looked a mess. She thought about the source of her pain. Was it the shock of finally ending it with Alonso? She knew they were nearing the end even if they both didn’t want to admit it. Maybe it was the thought of starting over? Or knowing the tears are…

“Sandi answer me…”

She took a deep inhale through the nose she released a very audible breath from her mouth. She could do this.

“No, Bruce. I know it won’t work between us, but I hoped it would. I wanted it to. I just fault myself for letting it linger longer than it should have. The tears are because, hold on,” she took the first exit she saw.

Sandra pulled into the Walmart-size gas station and located a parking space under a light. Again she placed the car in park. She looked around, and it was well lit, and she had another hour before the sun completely set.

“The tears Bruce are my way of letting go of it all. My dream,” she whispered, “I can’t find a husband. This means I can’t have kids. This means I won’t have a family. And I will live my life alone. And I just—“

“Really Sandi? You break up with the man for five minutes, and now you’re an old maid.”

“It’s not funny.”

She could see the smile on his face in Atlanta from Houston. The octave of his voice went higher when he smiled. And she smiled with him, lessening the hurt. A little.

“And to see Cindy get it all,” she continued, “I’m happy for her really.” She realized she must sound pathetic. It was her sister. Her baby sister at that. She was happy for her. However, she couldn’t help but compare their lives.

Cindy planned to marry her high school sweetheart who now played for the Houston Texans. While Sandra owned Coffee Confessions, a little slice of her heaven on earth.

The cafe served coffee and light food accompanied by a bookshop and intimate concerts. The business turned a profit every year, with great employees, customers, and a boyfriend until a few hours ago.

When would her someday come…
…

They disconnected with the rumble of his laughter lingering as she reentered the highway. Sandra didn’t share Bruce’s optimism, at least not yet, but she thanked God for him. He was the best friend a girl could have.

Before backing out of the parking space, she bowed her head for a quick prayer.

Father,
Help me use this time to let go of what is not for me. Help me to see and embrace Your plan for me.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Ja’Nese Dixon pens tales of romance in various subgenres, including romantic suspense and sweet romance. But her favorites are the ones that manage to keep readers sitting on the edge of their seats lying to themselves about reading “just one more chapter”.
She is an avid reader and coffee drinker living in Houston, Texas with her husband, three children, and diva dog. Visit her at http://www.janesedixon.com.

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Roya Whitmore has never had dreams like this before. Could her husband, Solomon, be cheating on her, after three kids and another on the way? More dreams come, and the events of her everyday life begin to match the events foretold in her dreams. As they do, she sees a path of faith and resilience that she never realized existed.

She joins the Alliance Crusaders for Christ, founded by her pastor, Isaiah Williams. She learns that their stated purpose as evangelists is only part of a deeper mission, to prepare the Church to survive the last days. Throughout this series of apocalyptic novels, there will be references to things you know to be true, and extrapolations to things that are likely to occur. This first book of the Miss the Mark Series places, in a fictional setting, things that do occur in the lives of people who follow Christ, along with miracles and gifts from God. We are never perfect, but we know the One who guides our lives.

Chief commanding officer, Les Blanche's presence alarmed the Task Force Special Operations officers and soldiers to halt and salute their leader. He stood near the sound booth and stared at the HD screens in front of him. He pressed one of the buttons to playback a report of a CNN broadcast of Salvator Lothar. Les surveyed the room and studied the facial expressions and slight gestures of the men and women as they watched the shortened video on the devastating events of world destruction. Les sought after an immense outcome.

He carefully observed a few officers. He saw one praying to her God by clutching tightly on her cross, mouth moving to a whisper unheard to her peers. Another with his eyes closed and head shifted upward as if he was praying in silence. A slight nod by another officer; Les sensed an unseen presence was in the room. He focused on Lothar's discussion but kept heed of these few officers whom he felt would be a problem. They were not proceeding with the new regulations and updated mandatory combat drills.

 "You've just seen a series of videos of war among third world countries like Syria and Iraq," said Les. "Some heads of state are doing this to their own countries as a result of evils introduced by previous rulers. They enforce their dictatorship in their countries with such catastrophic events. It is time for us to reinvent our scare tactics to show these countries that we're ready for whatever they may have in warfare. Our country is known as the land of the free, and we are free to make our own decisions as a leader of weaponry.?

Some of the commanding officers nodded in agreement. Others stared intently at Les. All were alert, awaiting instruction at a moment's notice.

"Therefore, as you see this man, Salvator Lothar, is our next standing world leader. He has propositioned tactics for this special force to govern a safer country and a peaceful one. We have positioned each man and woman in this room to be the first to not only protect our country but to receive the implant this delicate but powerful device in your bodies. Here watch this clip..." He pressed the next button. He saw their approval nods as the general atmosphere changed, but there still were a few skeptics in the room. He dug deeper into his spiritual sensor and detected that some had Christian beliefs against this proposal of the biometric chip.

Les knew he had to set the example. He needed these men to not only respect him but fear him. The next chief officer and president of the United States would unite all the nations, and also would be willing to exterminate any that didn't follow his will. After the viewing, he glorified their role.

"So, you see how you'll do a great deed for our country, and set an example for others." He looked around, noting still a few who appeared to be resolute, and continued, "We will become a safer nation. We won't have crime or theft because the security measures will track every move someone who will harm us makes. This device, as you can barely see, is only the size of a mustard seed."

Staring at the woman who fingered her cross, he said abruptly, "We will not tolerate any moles, traders, or those who will not take the will of our Messiah."

He heard an obnoxious sigh from someone in the room. His turned his head, and his eyes went to slits after targeting the perpetrator.

Adrienna Turner is an award-winning author and book reviewer. She is currently a state law librarian, Dream your Reality speaker and prophetess, and advocates for young people, as well as the cessation of human trafficking. She is a former magazine writer for both print and online, Religious Examiner writer, radio host of 3 Internet BlogTalkRadio programs. She has published her first series: Miss the Mark, book 1, Tormented Dreams under her ministry, Dream Your Reality Prophecies. She has former acting experience in high school drama and as Phoenicia in the musical: Fame.She’s also starred in a stage production for nearly two years as Drina in the Are You Ready? stage play.

WEBSITE:
http://www.dream4more.org and www.adriennaturner.net

BLOGS:
Dream 4 More:  http://dreammorefirm.blogspot.com/
Adrienna Turner: http://adriennaturnernetwork.blogspot.com/
 
SOCIAL MEDIA:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/adrienna.turner
Twitter: https://twitter.com/adriennaturner
Youtube:
https://www.youtube.com/user/AdriennaDTurner
https://www.youtube.com/user/adriennaturner

Roya Whitmore has never had dreams like this before. Could her husband, Solomon, be cheating on her, after three kids and another on the way? More dreams come, and the events of her everyday life begin to match the events foretold in her dreams. As they do, she sees a path of faith and resilience that she never realized existed.

She joins the Alliance Crusaders for Christ, founded by her pastor, Isaiah Williams. She learns that their stated purpose as evangelists is only part of a deeper mission, to prepare the Church to survive the last days. Throughout this series of apocalyptic novels, there will be references to things you know to be true, and extrapolations to things that are likely to occur. This first book of the Miss the Mark Series places, in a fictional setting, things that do occur in the lives of people who follow Christ, along with miracles and gifts from God. We are never perfect, but we know the One who guides our lives.

Chief commanding officer, Les Blanche's presence alarmed the Task Force Special Operations officers and soldiers to halt and salute their leader. He stood near the sound booth and stared at the HD screens in front of him. He pressed one of the buttons to playback a report of a CNN broadcast of Salvator Lothar. Les surveyed the room and studied the facial expressions and slight gestures of the men and women as they watched the shortened video on the devastating events of world destruction. Les sought after an immense outcome. He carefully observed a few officers. He saw one praying to her God by clutching tightly on her cross, mouth moving to a whisper unheard to her peers. Another with his eyes closed and head shifted upward as if he was praying in silence. A slight nod by another officer; Les sensed an unseen presence was in the room. He focused on Lothar's discussion but kept heed of these few officers whom he felt would be a problem. They were not proceeding with the new regulations and updated mandatory combat drills.


 "You've just seen a series of videos of war among third world countries like Syria and Iraq," said Les. "Some heads of state are doing this to their own countries as a result of evils introduced by previous rulers. They enforce their dictatorship in their countries with such catastrophic events. It is time for us to reinvent our scare tactics to show these countries that we're ready for whatever they may have in warfare. Our country is known as the land of the free, and we are free to make our own decisions as a leader of weaponry.?


Some of the commanding officers nodded in agreement. Others stared intently at Les. All were alert, awaiting instruction at a moment's notice.


"Therefore, as you see this man, Salvator Lothar, is our next standing world leader. He has propositioned tactics for this special force to govern a safer country and a peaceful one. We have positioned each man and woman in this room to be the first to not only protect our country but to receive the implant this delicate but powerful device in your bodies. Here watch this clip..." He pressed the next button. He saw their approval nods as the general atmosphere changed, but there still were a few skeptics in the room. He dug deeper into his spiritual sensor and detected that some had Christian beliefs against this proposal of the biometric chip.


Les knew he had to set the example. He needed these men to not only respect him but fear him. The next chief officer and president of the United States would unite all the nations, and also would be willing to exterminate any that didn't follow his will. After the viewing, he glorified their role.

"So, you see how you'll do a great deed for our country, and set an example for others." He looked around, noting still a few who appeared to be resolute, and continued, "We will become a safer nation. We won't have crime or theft because the security measures will track every move someone who will harm us makes. This device, as you can barely see, is only the size of a mustard seed."

Staring at the woman who fingered her cross, he said abruptly, "We will not tolerate any moles, traders, or those who will not take the will of our Messiah."

He heard an obnoxious sigh from someone in the room. His turned his head, and his eyes went to slits after targeting the perpetrator.

Adrienna Turner is an award-winning author and book reviewer. She is currently a state law librarian, Dream your Reality speaker and prophetess, and advocates for young people, as well as the cessation of human trafficking. She is a former magazine writer for both print and online, Religious Examiner writer, radio host of 3 Internet BlogTalkRadio programs. She has published her first series: Miss the Mark, book 1, Tormented Dreams under her ministry, Dream Your Reality Prophecies. She has former acting experience in high school drama and as Phoenicia in the musical: Fame.She’s also starred in a stage production for nearly two years as Drina in the Are You Ready? stage play.

WEBSITE:
http://www.dream4more.org and www.adriennaturner.net

BLOGS:
Dream 4 More:  http://dreammorefirm.blogspot.com/
Adrienna Turner: http://adriennaturnernetwork.blogspot.com/
 
SOCIAL MEDIA:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/adrienna.turner
Twitter: https://twitter.com/adriennaturner
Youtube:
https://www.youtube.com/user/AdriennaDTurner
https://www.youtube.com/user/adriennaturner

It's another #writerwednesday and I couldn't think of a better way to share this day with you than by celebrating my author friend, Chicki Brown's new release, Born To Be Wild.

First let me say that I love this cover! It's gorgeous, sexy, classy, and chic! I had difficulty choosing an excerpt from the ones that she provided. They were all so good, but one thing whittled it down for me...I love a man who knows how to use his hands. You'll have to read it to see what I mean.

Don't forget to leave Chicki a comment, just to say "hello," or tell her your thoughts on this new release.
Read More...

I looked up and Karly, her husband, Sal and Breelyn, their day waitress and my best friend, were staring as if I’d grown a third eye. They had also never seen me out with a man other than Johnnie. They were the perfect café owners. Sal had the culinary expertise, and Karly had the personality. Several years ago they passed through our little town on their way to Florida and fell in love with it. Six months later, they left New York City and bought a house here. Immediately, they started looking for a spot to open their restaurant.
 
“Hey, Tangela, how’s life treating you?” Karly asked from across the room in her loud New York accented voice.
 
In the five years I’d known her, she’d never asked me that question. It was obvious she was fishing for details about the man sitting next to me. “I’m just fine, Karly. How’re you doin’?”
 
“Bree will be over with menus in a minute.” She and Bree put their heads together and whispered before Bree sauntered over wearing a surreptitious smile.
 
“Welcome to Karly’s Kafe’. My name is Breelyn, and I’ll be serving you today.” I laughed at her formal welcome, obviously given for Mr. Turner’s benefit. “Can I get drinks for you and your…friend?”
 
I sent her the side-eye. “Bree, this is Mr. Turner. He’s passing through town on his way to Florida. Bree is my best friend.”
 
He smiled. “Pleased to meet you, Bree. My name is Reese, and I’d like the biggest sweet tea you have with lots of lemon.”
 
The way she grinned back at him made me want to slap her upside her silly head. “Here’s today’s menu. I’ll be right back.”
 
His gaze followed her across the dining room. As soon as she moved out of hearing distance, he said, “You’re not drinking anything?”
 
“She knows what I always get.”
 
“Oh, okay. I thought she was dissing you.” He glanced at her again. “She has an interesting look.”
 
“Like she doesn’t belong here, right?”
 
“Well, yeah. It’s not often you see a black woman with purple hair in a country town.”
 
“Eufaula isn’t country. It’s the largest town in Barbour County.”
 
He snickered and checked out the short menu. “I’m from Atlanta. Believe me, this is country.”
Bree brought our drinks and blatantly studied him while he concentrated on the menu. Her gaze did a slow scan from his boots all the way up to the turquoise and silver necklace beneath the red bandana at his throat, and then she raised an eyebrow.
 
I nixed her reaction and asked if he was ready to order.
 
“Think I’ll try the meatball parm sandwich and a side salad with Italian dressing.”
 
“Good choice,” Bree said. “Sal’s meatballs are amazing, but I suggest you get that on the toasted garlic bread.”
 
“Okay. Recommendation taken.”
 
“And what are you having today, girl?”
 
“I’ll make it easy for you. Give me the same, but with the balsamic vinaigrette on the salad.”
She scratched the order on her pad and sent me another questioning look. “This shouldn’t take long.”
 
“Are you vacationing in Panama City?” I asked once she left the table.
 
“Not really. I belong to a motorcycle club. It’s Black Bike Week, and the annual rally is being held there.”
 
Now his outfit made more sense. I’d never known anyone who belonged to a motorcycle club, and I wanted to know more. “What happens during Black Bike Week?”
 
His wicked laugh tickled my senses. “What doesn’t happen. The rally used to be held in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina at the same time as the Harley Davidson rally, but this year the organizers decided to change it. The last couple of years the local newspapers and TV stations painted the black bikers as underclass criminals who come to the rally to steal and murder. They called the white bikers examples of American Individualism whose behavior was celebrated as defiant acts against authority."
 
I loved the way he spoke. Not at all what I expected from a biker. “Typical.” I shook my head at the trite judgment. “So where do you go after you leave the rally?”
 
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
 
“Don’t you live on the road and travel from place to place?” My stomach did a little somersault again when he grinned.
 
“Somebody’s been watching too much television.”
 
“That’s not true?”
 
“No. Most motorcycle clubs are basically social groups. Riders get together mostly on weekends to share their love for bikes. There are even a few RUBs in my club, the Ebony Knights, but we all have jobs, businesses and families to take care of the rest of the time.”
 
The heat of embarrassment crept up the back of my neck into my cheeks. “It’s just that I--
 
“That’s a common misperception. I’m not offended.”
 
“What’s a rub?”
 
“It stands for Rich Urban Biker.”
 
“Oh, wow.”
 
The way he spoke intrigued me. “What kind of work do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
 
“Do you ever watch HGTV?”
 
I knew he wasn’t going to tell me he was a television star. “Yes, all the time. Why?”
 
“Have you seen any of the house flipping shows?”
 
“Uh huh. Flip or Flop used to be one of my favorites, until Tarek and Christina split up. Now it’s hard for me to watch them.”
 
“That’s what I do-buy houses, restore them and flip them for a profit. I own the business, but I do a lot of the actual work myself.”
 
Well, that explained his incredible shoulders and arms. Reese Turner became more interesting by the minute.

Kindle - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B072R147RV 
Nook -  http://bit.ly/2twWU9M
Paperback - https://www.createspace.com/7262080
UK Amazon - https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B072R147RV

Contemporary women’s fiction/romance author Chicki Brown has been featured twice in USAToday. She was the 2014 B.R.A.B. (Building Relationships Around Books) Inspirational Fiction Author and also the 2011 SORMAG (Shades of Romance Magazine) Author of the Year. Chicki was also a contributing author to the Gumbo for the Soul: Men of Honor (Special Cancer Awareness Edition).

A transplanted New Jersey native who lives in Atlanta, Georgia, Brown still misses the Jersey shore, the pizza and the hot dogs.
Nia Forrester, Beverly Jenkins, Iris Bolling, Lisa Kleypas, and J.R. Ward are among her favorite authors.

Blog: http://sisterscribbler.blogspot.com 
Twitter: http://twitter.com/@Chicki663 
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/chicki.brown
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/chicki663/
Amazon Central Author Page: http://amzn.to/l2kjXQ
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/qcsiMD