THE PROMISE KEEPER - Sherri Stewart - One Free Book

Welcome, Sherri. Tell us how much of yourself you write into your characters. “Write what you know,” is a common theme for writers. Of course, I know myself best, having lived with myself for more years than I’d care to mention. Often the conflicts dealt with in my stories are ones that I’ve dealt with. In my latest book, The Promise Keeper, Meadow deals with guilt over her last words to her father. That happened to me. Meadow was a principal as was I. I’d be interested in knowing if other authors write about themselves.

 

What is the quirkiest thing you have ever done? There are so many things I could write about. How about the fact that I spend an hour every day learning to speak Welsh, which is a difficult language, and I’ll probably never use it?

 

Tell us the range of the kinds of books you enjoy reading. I’m in a book club that meets monthly, and we try to read broadly, which I really appreciate. Last month we read, Travels with Charlie, by Steinbeck, and this month we’re reading Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. However, I draw the line at erotica, the occult, and gore. And I’ve thrown away more than a few books after reading a chapter or two.

 

I’m with you on that. Why continue to read a book that isn’t very good when there are so many really good ones out there to read? How do you keep your sanity in our run, run, run world? I don’t think we live in a run, run, run world, at least not at the moment with COVID. The question now is how do we keep our sanity in a stay-at-home world away from our families and friends. Like most writers, I’m an introvert, so I’m not as bothered by isolation as some people are. Yet I keep my sanity by reading the Bible every morning, keeping a journal, and memorizing Psalms. I’ve memorized three Psalms and I’m on my fourth since March when COVID started.

 

I’m actually an extrovert, so I really like being with people. But in this time of isolation, I too rely on the Lord. How do you choose your characters’ names? Often I name my characters after family members. In my next-to-be-released book in February, A Friend in High Places, all the characters are named after my favorite cousin’s family. I had to change around a few names when I realized the main character was falling in love with a guy with her brother’s name.

 

What is the accomplishment that you are most proud of? The hardest thing I ever did was take the California Bar exam. I was in my late fifties, working full time as a high school teacher and studying law at night and on weekends, and I didn’t even live in California. I only passed it because I begged God, and He probably got tired of listening to me.

 

Tell us about the featured book. Meadow meets Jonathan by chance when they end up with the same seat ticket to an Eagles’ concert in London’s Wembley Stadium. By the end of the evening, they both are smitten, and Jonathan believes that their meeting each other is more than mere coincidence. It’s God’s providence that’s brought them together. How else could two Americans share the same ticket?

Although Meadow would like to believe that God has brought them together, she’s not so sure. She’s leaving for Wales to visit the castles the next morning with other summer school students from Kings College. If Jonathan is right about providence, he should be able to find her with little help. Even so, Meadow will be returning to Atlanta to finish her last year of college, and Jonathan will be heading back to law school in New York.

They promise to keep in touch. Jonathan takes it a step further. He suggests that they meet at Cardiff Castle at Christmas in two years as long as they aren’t in another relationship at that time. Will Jonathan keep his promise?  Meadow wants to believe he will, but her father never kept his promise to be there for the family, so her trust level is low. If you enjoyed Serendipity and Sleepless in Seattle, The Promise Keeper is the book for you. 

Please give us the first page of the book.

August 23, 2010

“Sorry,” Meadow Spencer said for the twentieth time. She maneuvered around another pair of knees to her seat, which appeared to be in the center of the row. There was no way she was going to look down, having only been able to stretch her budget to buy a nosebleed seat. One glimpse at the stage before she reached her seat, and she’d suffer more than a nosebleed.

Seeing the Eagles at Wembley stadium in London made her feel a kinship with the American band. Meadow had bought the ticket on a whim but couldn’t convince anyone else in her dorm at Kings College to go with her, so she had to go by herself. Who goes to a concert by themselves? It was like going to a movie alone. She’d done that a few times. Difficult to sit there alone with the lights still up, so she always brought a book to read, but she’d look ridiculous reading a book up here.

Meadow kept her eyes alert for seat number 119, but each pair of knees she knocked against concealed the numbers, so she searched ahead for the empty seat. The place was packed. When she wasn’t bumping and apologizing, the red bag holding her sweater banged into shoulders and even a belly or two. Finally she almost reached the row’s center and glanced ahead, but the seat was filled. No, had she wasted this effort on the wrong row, the wrong section? It figured, she usually did things wrong the first time around.

A guy about her age with black hornrims—the cool kind—sat in 119. Tousled dark hair, probably the result of the London August wind, but cute nonetheless, and the longest jeaned legs ever. At least she didn’t have to climb over them. He glanced up and tried unsuccessfully to move his legs to the side.

“I believe that’s my seat.” Meadow held out the ticket. Luckily, the warm-up band was playing so he’d have time to find his seat. Who crashes the nosebleed section anyway?

Motions from the row behind to stop blocking their view made her kneel down.

The guy glanced up at her and she locked into the bluest eyes. “Let me see that,” he said. American accent. Hm. “119. Block 501 Row 33 Seat 119. Maybe I picked the wrong row.” He fumbled in his back pocket, took out his own ticket, and compared the two. “Hm. Appears we have the same ticket. Wonder how that happened.” He looked up at her, handed her back the ticket, then stood. “You sit here. I’ll find another seat. Sorry about this.”

“No,” she said. “Check the date on your ticket stub. The Eagles are performing tomorrow night as well.” She glanced down at hers. “Mine’s tonight.”

“As is mine.”

“Sit down,” somebody bellowed from above and behind.

The guy gestured toward the seat, then they maneuvered around each other’s waists. The heat in her face deepened, more from the ruckus she was causing than the energy from climbing to this section.

 

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Thank you, Sherri, for sharing this book with my blog readers and me. I’m eager to read it.

Readers, here are links to the book.

https://amzn.to/2Wc31Rv 

https://amzn.to/3ackgKI

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