Sunday, December 29, 2019
“And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward.” (Matthew 10:42)
The rumble of a moving truck caught Anna’s attention, and she shifted the curtain to watch it drive away. A young woman walked out of the other side of the duplex, pushing her dark, wavy hair off her forehead, leaving a smudge of dirt.
Poor thing looked exhausted.
The woman swiveled toward the open door. “Stay there, Tristan. I’m just moving the car.”
Anna’s hand went to her heart. A little boy! She opened the curtain a bit wider. A small child stood in
the doorway, dark hair like his mother’s and shoulders slumped.
Moving was hard. In their 53 years of marriage, Anna and Sam had moved seven times, finally landing in this duplex.Anna loved the park right behind them and schools nearby. Children used to fill the area. She enjoyed the noise, the activity, the liveliness of the little ones. Now those kids were grown, and old people like her settled in.
The little boy next door, however, didn’t look lively at all. Moving was extra hard on kids. Anna wished she could help, but her recent hip replacement kept her mostly housebound lately. What could she possibly do to welcome her new neighbours?
“What? Why biscuits?” Anna tightened her grip on the curtain. She hadn’t baked anything since Sam had dropped his snow shovel and fell into the arms of Jesus eight months and fourteen days ago.
Plain old biscuits didn’t seem like a proper welcome gift. Cookies would be better. Or maybe a casserole. “Are you sure?”
“Make biscuits.” The familiar, silent voice repeated.
“Okay, Lord, biscuits it is.”
A few minutes later, Anna shifted a towel-covered basket on her arm and knocked on the door of the adjoining home. It opened, revealing stacks of boxes behind the bedraggled young woman.
Anna extended her free hand. “Hello, I’m your neighbour, Anna Simons.”
“Hi, Anna. I’m Shanna Boyer.”
Anna offered the basket. “I made some biscuits to welcome you.”
Shanna’s eyes widened and filled. “Biscuits? Really?Tristan! We got biscuits!”
The little boy ran to his mom, his eyes sparkling. “Oh boy!”
Back home later, Anna marveled. Her simple gift had answered Shanna’s prayer for a sign that God still cared. Biscuits had been her mother’s specialty, one they missed almost as much as they missed her. God knew. And cared.
Anna bowed her head and smiled. “Thank You, Lord, for biscuits.”
Kathleen Friesen writes contemporary stories of faith that can overcome tough trials and deep heartaches. Her desire is for her readers to see themselves in the characters of her stories and to realize that Jesus Christ is the true hero for everyone, whatever their circumstances.
Kathleen and her husband recently moved from British Columbia back to Saskatchewan in order to spend more time with family in between renovations, landscaping and exploring new places. They’ll be overjoyed when the renovating part is done.
Blurb – Hearts Unfolding
Kennedy Rockwell takes pride in working for her family’s Rockwell Concrete Works, but she plans to branch out into her own landscape design business. Strong and independent, she is determined to succeed. Romance can wait…until Austin Warner turns her emotions inside out.
Austin works hard to achieve his goals, and the one closest to his heart is something he’s never really had—a family of his own. Kennedy seems to be the answer to his prayers until a small complication brings huge consequences.
Troubles from their pasts threaten to crush their dreams and push them apart. Can Kennedy and Austin learn to yield everything to the One who can grant them the desires of their hearts?
Friday, December 27, 2019
Carly looks forward to a vacation when Mike is hired to assist an association of ranchers in western Colorado catalogue their various mineral rights following the discovery of several large deposits. However, Carly soon learns that the real wealth—and the real danger—aren’t below ground. Someone is out to keep a secret bigger and more profitable than gold and copper. And they’re willing to kill for it.
Wednesday, November 18
Carly gritted her teeth. Would they never get off this plane and begin their working vacation? Well, working for husband Mike, vacation for her. The door of the jet stood wide open, the ramp waiting for their exit, but nobody was moving.
She should have insisted on sitting closer to the front. But Frugal Mike—cheap to some—insisted they didn’t need to spend the extra few bucks to choose their seat. And besides, everybody knew sitting nearer to the back of the plane was safer in the event of an airborne incident.
Who was he kidding? No in-the-air event was likely to have a good outcome.
At which point, she’d reminded him that flying was safer than driving a car.
Not true of Bear Cove, of course, since it had no airport and only a couple hundred vehicles. Accidents were few and far between, and even more rare was a fatality.
Still, they occupied the seats three rows from the back.
Finally, the illuminated seatbelt sign went dark, and people filled the aisle, pulling all manner of carry-on items down, handing them along the line to their owner, or setting them on their seats. Inch by inch, minute by minute, the hundred and fifty or so passengers ahead of them filed out.
When she thought she would scream, Mike stood, retrieved their items, and smiled at her. “Our turn. Hurry up. What’s taking you so long?”
Then down the aisle he went, smiling and nodding like the life of the party he was, as though he owned the entire airline.
She sighed. Vacation. Vacation. If this flight was anything like what the next seven days would be, she’d return home more tense than she left.
And she left Bear Cove uptight for a good reason. Their return flight was booked for the evening of the day before Thanksgiving. Then they had the four-hour drive from Bangor to get home. And she was hosting dinner. Sure, Denise was cooking the turkey, and Sarah volunteered to look after desserts, but seriously? Who knew what mischief Doc the cat would get into in their absence? They could return to find he’d shredded the sofa or chucked up hairballs all over the dining room table.
Of course, Mike poo-pooed her worries, saying everything would be fine. And he was probably right. Didn’t stop her from fretting, however.
She followed her husband out of the plane and up the jetway, glad he took stewardship of their small carry-on cases. Especially the one with the wonky wheel. As he stopped to right the bag, she chuckled. If it was up to her, she’d toss it in the trash and get a new one.
Not Frugal Mike, though.
Welcome to Denver.
No matter how much she traveled, she never tired of that rush of excitement at being in a new place. Her first time in the Mile High City, so named for its altitude. She recalled her recent research that advised ‘lowlanders’—folks from sea level—to be sure they drank lots of water and limited physical activity for the first few days. Well, flying and water didn’t mix—at least, not for her. She’d make up for it now, though.
She dug her phone from her purse. “Mike, hold up. I want to get a picture of you under the welcome sign.”
His brow pulled down but he paused and posed, and she snapped the picture. Nope, that wouldn’t do. A stranger had inserted himself into her keepsake photo. She held up a hand as Mike turned to continue his trek. “Hold on a minute. Let me try that again.”
But the man seemed intent on remaining right where he was. She caught his eye and gestured with her phone toward where Mike stood, but he either didn’t get the message, or didn’t speak Carly-ese.
Maybe a different angle. She took a couple of steps to the left. Nope, the sun through the glass meant Mike would be in shadow. Perhaps the other direction? The stranger was now more in the frame than ever.
Well, it had to be done. “Excuse me, sir? Could you move aside while I snap this photo? Then you can stand wherever you like.”
In response, the intruder shifted a millimeter to his left and broke eye contact with her.
She clamped her jaw tight. Fine. At this rate, she’d need dental work before getting back on the plane. “Mike, let’s go on. I can simply cut him out of the picture.”
And out of our lives, I hope.
Leave a comment, and I will draw randomly for a print copy (US only) or ebook version (winner’s choice) of Missing Deposits.
Leeann Betts writes contemporary romantic suspense, while her real-life persona, Donna Schlachter, pens historical romantic suspense. In the Money is the tenth title in her cozy mystery series, and together she and Donna have published more than 30 novellas and full-length novels. They ghostwrite, judge writing contests, edit, facilitate a critique group, and are members of American Christian Fiction Writers, Writers on the Rock, and Sisters in Crime. Leeann travels extensively to research her stories, and is proud to be represented by Terrie Wolf of AKA Literary LLC.
Website: www.LeeannBetts.com Receive a free ebook just for signing up for our quarterly newsletter.
Thursday, December 26, 2019
To celebrate her tour, Camille is giving away the grand prize package of a $25 Amazon card & a signed book!!
Be sure to comment on the blog stops for nine extra entries into the giveaway! Click the link below to enter.
Wednesday, December 25, 2019
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