WHO KILLED MY HUSBAND - Michelle Stimpson - One Free Book

Dear Readers, when I saw that Michelle had published this new book, I had to invite her to be on the blog, so I could introduce the book to you. Those of you who have read the other books I’ve featured know why.

Bio: Michelle Stimpson’s works include the highly acclaimed Boaz Brown, Divas of Damascus Road (National Bestseller), and Falling Into Grace, which has been optioned for a movie. She has published several short stories for high school students through her educational publishing company at WeGottaRead.com.

Michelle serves in women’s ministry at Oak Cliff Bible Fellowship in Dallas, Texas. She regularly speaks at special events and writing workshops sponsored by churches, schools, book clubs, and educational organizations.

The Stimpsons are proud parents of two young adults, grandparents of one super-sweet granddaughter, and the owners of one Cocker Spaniel, Mimi, who loves to watch televangelists.

Welcome back, Michelle. This is a different kind of book for you. What made you venture a little with this title?

After writing 40+ books, an author can get kinda stagnant. I have recently started reading clean mysteries, and I found that I actually enjoy them. They keep me up late at night because I truly want to find out whodunit and why. I’m hoping my readers will enjoy a different pace, too. I think they’ll be glad to know it’s possible to change things up and still keep the message of the book strong.

What is the message of the book?

The main character, Ashley, is struggling to make sense of things as they relate to her. She has suffered much loss in her life already. But she’s going to have to understand that God doesn’t make His plans around her. She may be the apple of His eye, but she is not the center of the universe.  His promise to be there always will have to be sufficient for some of us until we reach the other side.

Wow! That title really caught me. How did you come up with the idea for this book?

You know what, I wish I could remember. Thankfully, I have not experience much death around me, but I know that the longer I live, the more loved ones will pass away. Death is a part of life.  I don’t kill off a lot of characters in my books, but there was just something about this couple that struck my imagination, and I knew they needed a book. Quickly!

How quick?

About 10 days from outline to finished first draft.

Seriously?

Yes, but keep in mind: This is a shorter work of fiction.

I know it’s possible. With my novella that is going up in a collection tomorrow, I had written the first 17,000 words over several weeks. Then I finished over 10,000 words in one week, and it’s a suspense novella, too.Why did you choose to write a shorter piece?

I actually got my start with fiction as a short-story writer. I love shorter reads because I can finish them quickly. My schedule is often irregular, so it’s hard for me to get into longer books during hectic weeks. When I sit down for a few hours with a short read, I already know I’m going to have the satisfaction of finishing it. I usually save longer reads for holidays/vacations.

What else is going on with you outside of the writing world?

Glad you asked! I am now the grandmother of a wonderful baby girl. Bless God! I am spending a ridiculous amount of time just staring at her and nibbling on her juicy cheeks.

I so understand that. Only mine are great grands now. What’s your next release?

I’ve got a non-fiction book coming out entitled Change Your Mind, Transform Your Life: 21 Truths to Renew Your Mind in Christ. I am always sooo excited about edifying believers. Non-fiction is not my first genre, but it is definitely one of the most fulfilling to me.

Do you have advice for aspiring authors?

I have more than advice—I have help! They can visit www.PublishMyBookAlready.com to take classes and learn more about publishing, marketing, etc.

Wow, that sounds good! Now tell us a little about the story.

Ashley Crandall finally convinced her husband, Allan, to attend the Christian men’s retreat ... but he ends up dead there. What happened to him on the campgrounds? Who would want to kill Allan? And why are the detectives pointing fingers at Ashley? In her quest to solve the mystery and clear her name, Ashley will learn something about her husband that she didn’t want to know and something about her Christian faith that shifts her life. 

This short work by national bestselling, multi-published author Michelle Stimpson is packed with emotion, suspense, and a her signature way of weaving hope into a story – always a hit with readers who enjoy faith-based reads.

Please give us a peek into Who Killed My Husband?

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.

Buy links for the book:

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

How Can Readers Connect with You?

The best way to keep in touch is through my email list. I send out notice of new books and keep people posted on all kinds of things from events to what’s happening with their favorite characters to upcoming releases. The link is here: http://bit.ly/MichelleStimpsonSignUp

Additionally, they can like or follow me at Facebook: www.Facebook.com/MichelleStimpsonWrites

Or Follow me on Twitter @StimpsonTweets. I blog at www.MichelleStimpson.com.

Thanks so much for the interview!

Thank you, Michelle, for sharing this new book with us. I can hardly wait to read it. You know how much I love your books.

Readers, leave a comment for a chance to win a free copy of the book. You must follow these instructions to be in the drawing. Please tell us where you live, at least the state or territory or country if outside North America. (Comments containing links may be subject to removal by blog owner.)

Void where prohibited; the odds of winning depend on the number of entrants. Entering the giveaway is considered a confirmation of eligibility on behalf of the enterer in accord with these rules and any pertaining local/federal/international laws.

The only notification you’ll receive is the winner post on this blog. So be sure to check back a week from Saturday to see if you won. You will have 4 weeks from the posting of the winners to claim your book.

If you’re reading this on Goodreads, Google+, Feedblitz, Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin, or Amazon, please come to the blog to leave your comment if you want to be included in the drawing. Here’s a link:

Http://lenanelsondooley.blogspot.com

DEACON BROWN'S DAUGHTERS - Michelle Stimpson - One Free Book

Welcome back, Michelle. How did you come up with the idea for this story?

This story has been on my heart for years, and I know it’s an experience that far too many have gone through. When parents get separated from their children, there’s a lot of pain. Misunderstandings. Rejection. I’ve read quite a few books from the children’s perspectives, but I wanted to explore what must be going on in the heart and mind of a man who walks away from his children. A part of me is like, “What’s wrong with you?” But parents are imperfect people, too. I wanted to go there and explore this character, Stanley Brown, and what made him do what he did.

If you were planning a party with Christian authors of contemporary fiction, what six people would you invite and why?

This is going to sound bad, but I’m not a huge fiction reader. I read mostly non-fiction and then take the lessons I learn from that and use them in fiction books. So, I’m going to have to invite some non-fiction folks to he party (and only 5 – sorry)!

Nancy Leigh DeMoss Wolgemoth – She has a lot to say to women, and since she recently married for the first time in her late 50s, I’d like to know how her thoughts about marriage and being a woman of God have changed—or not.

CaSandra McLaughlin – She’s the co-author of Deacon Brown’s Daughter. I would invite her because she’s fun and because she knows how to cook.

Jen Hatmaker – I don’t agree with Jen about a lot of things, but I love her heart. She would make the party fun, I’m sure.

Rhonda McKnight – Rhonda makes everyone feel welcome, and she’s got a perspective on writing/publishing that would lend itself well to any conversation about Christian literature.

Steve McVey – He sprinkles grace on everything. I’d love to hear what he has to contribute to the party conversation.

Now let’s do that for a party for Christian authors of historical fiction, what people would you invite and why?

Lena Nelson Dooley – Because you’re very experienced in the genre and can tell us more about the previous century than anyone, probably!

Piper Huguley – She’s a sweetheart and a powerball all in one. Her work is winning lots of awards already.

Michael Phillips – His was the first historical fiction book I ever read, and I thoroughly enjoyed Angels Watching Over Me.

I'd really enjoy being at that party. I don't know Piper, but I read a lot of Michael Phillips books, and I always love spending time with you, Michelle. Many times, people (and other authors) think you have it made with so many books published. What is your most difficult problem with writing at this time in your career?

My most difficult problem right now is a wonderful problem. My first granddaughter is here and I can’t tear myself away from her long enough to write – LOL! But she’s two months old now, so I’ve got to get myself back on track. I recently downloaded an app that keeps track of my “clocking in” and “clocking out” so that I am more aware of how I’m using my time. Balancing work and family has always been a challenge for me. When I do work (I’m a part-time education consultant), it gives me a greater appreciation for my more relaxed life as a writer. But I have to be careful not to get too relaxed or distracted. I also have to be careful not to overwork and neglect the things and the people who are most important to me. It’s a constant self-check.

Tell us about the featured book.

Deacon Brown’s Daughters is the story of a man (Stanley Brown) who sired four children by four different women back when he was younger. Now that he’s older and has come into the saving knowledge of Christ, he wants to make things right with the adult children. But they’re not all so happy to see him. Stanley is confused about things. He doesn’t understand why people (women especially) always want to drudge up the past in order to move forward. He doesn’t know how many times he can say “I’m sorry” before giving up again. The idea for Deacon Brown’s Daughters isn’t exactly a new one, but to explore it from the absent parent’s perspective brings a unique voice to the conversation about absentee fathers, single mothers, and even blended families.

Please give us the first page of the book.

He was used to getting messages from random women. These days, the messages usually came through his phone in the form of a text or an email. Whoever wrote this one must have had a lot on her mind because she had taken the time and effort to write neat, cursive letters on the front and use an oversized envelope.

It was addressed To: Stanley David Brown, Care of: Effie Brown, followed by his mother’s address in Big Oak, TX.

Stanley chuckled to himself as he laid the envelope on his nightstand. Whatever this blast from the past had to say to him would have to wait until he got out of his work clothes and had a glass of Jack Daniels to warm up.

No. Not Jack Daniels. He had to remind himself that he was a changed man. Even a whole year after accepting Christ, his mind returned to its old default ways without conscious resistance. Though Stanley had never been an alcoholic, he recognized alcohol as a gateway to the past for him. No need in going back there.

Besides, it was two in the afternoon. Saturday overtime was always finished before he knew it. Coffee was still in order.

“Stan-laaaaay!”

He ignored his mother. She would call at least three more times before adding his middle and last name.

I want to know who that letter came from! How can readers find you on the Internet?

www.MichelleStimpson.com

https://www.facebook.com/MichelleStimpsonWrites

Twitter @StimpsonWrites

Thank you, Michelle, for sharing this book with us. I’m intrigued with the concept. I know my readers will be, too.

Readers, here are links to the book. By using one when you order, you help support this blog.

Deacon Brown's Daughters Deacon Brown's Daughters

Leave a comment for a chance to win a free copy of the book. You must follow these instructions to be in the drawing. Please tell us where you live, at least the state or territory or country if outside North America. (Comments containing links may be subject to removal by blog owner.)

Void where prohibited; the odds of winning depend on the number of entrants. Entering the giveaway is considered a confirmation of eligibility on behalf of the enterer in accord with these rules and any pertaining local/federal/international laws.

The only notification you’ll receive is the winner post on this blog. So be sure to check back a week from Saturday to see if you won. You will have 4 weeks from the posting of the winners to claim your book.

If you’re reading this on Goodreads, Google+, Feedblitz, Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin, or Amazon, please come to the blog to leave your comment if you want to be included in the drawing. Here’s a link:

Http://lenanelsondooley.blogspot.com

COLORING THE SCRIPTURES - Michelle Stimpson - One Free Coloring Book

Dear Readers, my friend, Michelle Stimpson, has created a scriptures coloring book. I know you’ve enjoyed her books I’ve featured. Just before I had my second knee-replacement surgery was Adult Coloring Week. Some coloring pages were online for people to print.

I’ve always loved coloring. I colored with my children and grandchildren. Then it became hard to find coloring books with pretty pictures in them. I printed up the pages and bought markers and crayons. I had artist’s coloring pencils. I put all this in my bag to go to rehab when I did. You only do rehab about two hours a day, and I knew I’d want something to keep me busy when I felt a little better.

Since then, I’ve acquired several coloring books for adults. This will be a good addition to my collection.

Welcome back, Michelle. You’ve spent most of your career writing Christian novels and novellas. Why a coloring book now?

Writers need relaxation, too! I’m not a big television-watcher, so I’m kind of getting into this coloring thing during my down-time. I also wanted to combine my coloring time with meditation. What better way than to incorporate the scriptures? I dabble here and there in graphic design, so I decided to give it a try.

Do you use markers or colored pencils when you color?

I mostly use Crayola® markers because they don’t bleed through pages often. I’ve tried colored pencils, but I get tired of sharpening them, so that’s out. If I come across a coloring book where the markers bleed through, I just put a sheet of paper between the page I’m working on and the next page.

When the Inspire Bible, which has illustrated verses to color in it, released earlier this year, I bought one. While I’m coloring the picture, I’m memorizing the verse. I use gel pens for things I want highlighted in the verse. Why do you think so many adults are turning to coloring these days?

Well, this coloring craze began with the art therapy movement some time around the 1940s. But I think it goes back beyond this relatively new form of psychological intervention. Our Heavenly Father is very creative. He’s created so many beautiful things in the earth. We don’t have to look for in order to behold His majesty. As His children, we’re much like Him in our desire to create beauty. Coloring is simply one more way to express our creativity as well.

Did you create the designs in the book by hand?

Well, that depends on what you mean by “by hand.” I clicked “by hand” and purchased some of the backgrounds—LOL! But no, I’m not much for drawing. Everything was done by purchasing fonts and background designs, then manipulating them through graphics software.

Will you be making another coloring book?

I’m thinking about it. When I’m sitting at a booth selling books, people will buy a coloring book often before they’ll buy a chapter book. The coloring books are quite a novelty, so I’ll pray about it and see where it goes!

Can children enjoy this coloring book, too?

Certainly! While most of the designs would take hours for anyone to complete, the book does contain some less intricate designs that would be great for kids.

How can my readers find you on the Internet?

My contact info:

www.MichelleStimpson.com

stimpson.michelle@gmail.com

Link to the book on Amazon: 

https://www.amazon.com/Coloring-Scriptures-Verses-Bible-Color/dp/1943563047

Thank you, Michelle, for sharing this with my blog readers.

Comment question to answer: Have you tried adult coloring? What is your favorite type of pictures to color?

Readers, leave a comment for a chance to win a free copy of the book. You must follow these instructions to be in the drawing. Please tell us where you live, at least the state or territory. (Comments containing links may be subject to removal by blog owner.)

Void where prohibited; the odds of winning depend on the number of entrants. Entering the giveaway is considered a confirmation of eligibility on behalf of the enterer in accord with these rules and any pertaining local/federal/international laws.

The only notification you’ll receive is the winner post on this blog. So be sure to check back a week from Saturday to see if you won. You will have 4 weeks from the posting of the winners to claim your book.

If you’re reading this on Goodreads, Google+, Feedblitz, Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin, or Amazon, please come to the blog to leave your comment if you want to be included in the drawing. Here’s a link:

Http://lenanelsondooley.blogspot.com.

STUCK ON YOU - Michelle Stimpson - One Free Ebook

Dear Readers, we’re welcoming back one of my good friends. She’s very creative. Her books are hilarious, and she now creates her own covers. Spending time with her really brightens my day.

Welcome back, Michelle. Tell us about your salvation experience.

Though I “grew up” in church, I didn’t really submit my life to Him and receive Christ as savior until I was 17 years old. I was in our family’s formal living room vacuuming the floor, just thinking about Jesus and all the stuff I’d heard about growing up. Pretty soon, I’d be heading off to college. At that time, I had started doing some things that I knew were out of line with my parents’ rules and the church’s teachings, and I was a bit afraid of what I might do to ruin my life when I left my family home. At that time, I knew I needed saving from myself. I needed a Savior. I stopped the vacuuming and asked Christ into my life—all alone, no fanfare, no witnesses, just me and Him. Much of my life in Christ has been just like this, a private affair that later shows itself on the outside. It would be another 10 years before I was completely wooed by Him, but that was the beginning of our relationship.

You’re planning a writing retreat where you can only have four other authors. Who would they be and why?

Lynne Gentry – she would read my work and find all kinds of holes in it. She’s an iron who sharpens me.

ReShonda Tate Billingsley – she is a writing rabbit. Having her around and watching her “go” would inspire me to keep my behind in the chair and write!

Faith Simone – she’s a new author and I think she would benefit from being around those of us who have been writing for a while.

Janice Olson – while I think she’d do a great job of critiquing and helping brainstorm, she’s also the queen of hospitality and she loves to cook. We’d need food!!!

Do you have a speaking ministry? If so, tell us about that.

Yes, I do quite a bit of speaking with the women’s ministry of Oak Cliff Bible Fellowship in Dallas, Texas. For the past three years, I have led a series of sessions on various topics. In addition to ministry, I am an educational consultant. I present dozens of workshops annually to teachers.

What is the most embarrassing thing that has happened to you and how did you handle it?

I laugh at myself so often that I rarely get embarrassed because others are laughing right along with me. But there was one time I didn’t even know to be embarrassed – when my wig fell off and I didn’t even realize it! I was talking to a lady, re-enacting a scenario, and I whipped my head around really quickly. My wig fell off but I didn’t know it, so I kept on talking. The lady just kept listening, but I think she was too dazed to say anything. When I felt a little breeze on my neck, I looked down and saw the wig on the concrete. Thankfully, no one saw it except she and I!

People are always telling me that they’d like to write a book someday. I’m sure they do to you, too. What would you tell someone who came up to you and said that?

I say, “Write the book already!” Somehow, many people think there’s some special mystery to writing, but writing is writing. The same way we sat down with pen/pencil and wrote papers in the 3rd grade is pretty much how we do it now (except with on a computer for most of us). Granted, we outline, we plan, we think about marketing and the broader message, but at the end of the day, we WRITE.

So true. Tell us about the featured book.

Back in college, Braxton Stoneworth and Tiffany Warren were just friends...until one spring night heightened their feelings for one another. Yet when they returned to school in the fall, Braxton made a decision that drove Tiffany to transfer schools and never look back.

Now, nearly a decade later, they meet again as business experts vying for the same contract at a prestigious school. In addition to their professional competition, tensions mount as Braxton and Tiffany discover that they have two different versions of what happened to their romance so long ago. Can they overcome hard feelings and pick up where they left off?

Tiffany’s father passed away a few months ago, just as she was founding her new project management firm. She wonders if her leap of faith was a good move, and her doubts only increase when she learns that someone from the firm she left is trying to undermine her independent efforts…not to mention her possibilities with Braxton.

Braxton thought he might follow his father’s footsteps into ministry. His wild fraternity days caught up with him, however, causing Braxton to give up the idea of teaching anyone to follow the faith he so obviously neglected. Can he win back his own self-respect and the heart of the woman he never forgot?

Stuck On You is the first book in The Stoneworth Series by bestselling Christian Fiction author Michelle Stimpson. The family history is briefly established, and then readers are off to experience the Stoneworth family's rich legacy of faith and integrity within the context of contemporary romance. Come fall in love with the family!

Please give us the first page of the book.

“Gather ’round now, so I can tell the story,” one of the oldest living Stoneworths, Uncle Bush, announced from the lazy chair.

Someone in the kitchen switched off the household intercom system, which had been pumping upbeat gospel tunes throughout the two-story mini-mansion. Glasses ceased to clink. Silverware ceased to chink against the fine China that Uncle Bush’s wife, Aunt Vera, had proudly used to serve her husband’s annual birthday dinner. This birthday was extra special, marking his eighth decade of life.

Braxton Stoneworth gave up his seat on the comfy leather couch nearest Uncle Bush so that the younger ones could get close to hear their story—the Stoneworth legacy—which had been passed down for more than a hundred years now.

His five-year-old first cousin once-removed, Lauren, and her friend quickly scrambled to claim Braxton’s empty spot.

Ace, one of the kids from Uncle Shiloh’s clan, came running into the family room but stopped short, having been beaten by the girls. “No fair! She’s not even a Stoneworth!” He pointed at Lauren’s friend.

Lauren’s mom, Paige, gently lowered Ace’s arm since the boy wasn’t practicing good manners at the moment. “You never know, Ace. She might be a Stoneworth someday.”

His brows furrowed in indignation as he crossed his arms on his chest. Little Ace looked like he wanted to say something, but he knew better than to talk back to his aunt, especially in front of the room full of people who would put him in check for saying anything remotely disrespectful to an elder. Simply put: Stoneworths didn’t play that.

“Come on, lil’ dude. I’ve got a seat right here for ya.” Braxton’s oldest brother, Knox, rolled a chair up right next to Uncle Bush.

Ace’s expression shined with victory. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“You know Stoneworths look out for each other,” Knox said, giving Ace some dap.

The brown-skinned boy with bright hazel eyes hopped into the chair, set one tiptoe against the floor, then whirled the seat around for two full 360-degree circles. He raised his hands in the air. “Look at me! I’m flying!”

The room full of Stoneworths and friends filled with soft laughter as brothers, aunts, uncles, and cousins witnessed Ace’s antics. Somehow, they had all known that Ace would abuse the rolling chair. He was, as Braxton’s grandmother Ethie would say, “all boy”—which meant constant adventures, fearlessness which led to countless bumps and scrapes, and occasional mischief. And, as God saw fit, the Stoneworth family tree had always bloomed with an abundance of male family members.

“Careful, Ace. You don’t want to lose your dinner,” Brandy warned as she stepped behind him and stopped the impromptu merry-go-round.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ace said breathlessly. He clasped his hands together and sat as still as possible, which had to be torture for an eight-year-old.

How can readers find you on the Internet?

www.MichelleStimpson.com

www.Facebook.com/TheMichelleStimpsonPage

Thank you, Michelle, for sharing this book with us. I'm eager to read it, as I'm sure my readers are as well.

Readers, here are links to the book. By using one when you order, you help support this blog.

Stuck On You (The Stoneworths) (Volume 1) - Paperback
Stuck On You (Stoneworth Series Book 1) - Kindle

Leave a comment for a chance to win a free copy of the book. You must follow these instructions to be in the drawing. Please tell us where you live, at least the state or territory. (Comments containing links may be subject to removal by blog owner.)

Void where prohibited; the odds of winning depend on the number of entrants. Entering the giveaway is considered a confirmation of eligibility on behalf of the enterer in accord with these rules and any pertaining local/federal/international laws.

The only notification you’ll receive is the winner post on this blog. So be sure to check back a week from Saturday to see if you won. You will have 4 weeks from the posting of the winners to claim your book.

If you’re reading this on Goodreads, Google+, Feedblitz, Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin, or Amazon, please come to the blog to leave your comment if you want to be included in the drawing. Here’s a link:
Http://lenanelsondooley.blogspot.com

SOMEONE TO WATCH OVER ME - Michelle Stimpson - Free Book

Although Michelle was already multi-published before I met her, I've been blessed to walk this road with her through my critique group. Welcome, dear friend. What are some of the spiritual themes you like to write about?

I like to write about God’s power to restore relationships, or His ability to give peace when a relationship is better off closed. The main character (Tori) in this book experiences both – rekindling with her great aunt, and forgiving her mother who chose to leave Tori behind for a man.

What other books of yours are coming out soon?

I’m working on a non-fiction book, Did I Marry the Wrong Guy? which is actually a book of encouragement for married women. My next novel is due to my publisher in about three months, but I have no idea what it’ll be about. Yikes! But don’t worry. I do my best writing under pressure.

I'd call that pressure. I'm struggling right now with meeting the deadline for one of my novels, so we can work under pressure together. If you could spend an evening with one contemporary person (not a family member of yours), who would it be and why?

Hmmm…probably Joyce Meyer or some other woman of faith who has been through trials and come out with a stronger testimony for Christ. At this point in my life, I’m learning to linger in encouragement from women who’ve walked this narrow path and are further down the road than me.

That's a very good thing to learn. What historical person would you like to meet (besides Jesus) and why?

I’d like to sit down with Mary Kay Ash. I read her autobiography and thoroughly enjoyed her words of wisdom. Even though I wasn’t any good at selling lipstick for my 2-week Mary Kay stint, I still admire the opportunities she opened for women.

How can you encourage authors who have been receiving only rejections from publishers?

This is a tough question. Before now, I might have said something like “Keep praying – God will open the door for you when it’s time.” But now that I’m a hybrid author of sorts (I’ve self-published short stories and ancillary instructional materials for teachers of reluctant secondary readers – WeGottaRead.com), I’m more inclined to say, “Get a strong edit, make recommended changes, try to get it published again. If there are still no takers, pray about publishing it yourself.”  Again, prayer is always in order. But I think that, for such a time as this, God has opened the door for many authors to walk through without a traditional publisher.

Tell us about the featured book.

Tori Henderson is on the fast track in her marketing career in Houston, but her personal life is slow as molasses. So when her beloved Aunt Dottie falls ill, Tori travels back to tiny Bayford to care for her. But when Tori arrives, she's faced with more than she bargained for, including Dottie's struggling local store, a host of bad memories, and a troubled little step-cousin, DeAndre. Worse, the nearest Starbucks is twenty miles away...

Just as Tori is feeling overwhelmed, she re-connects with her old crush, the pastor's son, Jacob, who is every bit as handsome as she remembers. As the church rallies for Aunt Dottie's recovery, Tori realizes that she came to Bayford to give, but she just might receive more than she dreamed was ever possible for her. 

Please give us the first page of the book.

THIS IS NOT THE FIRST PAGE, IT’S AN EXCERPT. IS THAT OKAY???

Fine with me. Go for it!

            Unfamiliar surroundings caused a brief panic as I returned to a state of consciousness. An I.V. in my arm, sterile whiteness all around me.

            “Miss Henderson?” a soft voice called.

            My voiceway obstructed, I instinctively reached for my throat and felt plastic tubing.

            “No. Wait just a second – I’ll take it out.” A red-haired nurse with extremely fair skin stood over me now. Her presence brought everything in to focus. The first thing I realized was the absence of the excruciating pain that had taken over my entire being earlier in the day, replaced by only a tenderness in the area.

            In one sweeping motion, the nurse extracted the cylinder from my mouth. Like ripping tape off someone’s mouth, no use in belaboring the action. A few coughs later, I managed to eke out a request for water.

            The nurse obliged me only a sip, saying I shouldn’t eat or drink anything until the anesthesia wore off. “Don’t want you to lose whatever you put down.”

            I wanted to tell her that after all I’d been through, I was a professional vomitter.

            The next thing I remember with clarity is eating jello, trying to convince myself that it was okay to swallow again. The surgery was over, but I still needed to satisfy my psyche. One bite. Wait. Another bite. Wait. Before the next bite, I examined the jello. My taste buds must have been asleep still because I wasn’t able to taste much. I had to rely on texture. Gelatin made with real sugar was thicker than jello made with artificial sweetener. My fork sliced through the shiny red substance easily. Splenda.

            I’m pretty sure I slept like a baby for most of my two-day hospital stay. There was little to occupy me except an occasional visit from the doctor or a nurse. I could have kicked myself for leaving my laptop in the car. The outside temperature was cool enough to prevent damage to my equipment, but the workload would certainly swell with neglect. If only I’d had someone I knew come by, I could give them my keys and ask them to go get my bag.

Kevin called once, between meetings, to check on me. “How are you feeling?”

            “Much better.” I powered my bed to an upright position. “How’s it going in Chicago?”

            “Sweet. I think that pharmaceutical company I told you about is going to award us the account. It’s huge.  Seriously – huge.”

            “That’s good.” I wish I could say I listened to him go on and on about the deal, his residuals from it, and how his team would probably win the contest if they got this one, which meant a trip to St. Lucia for us both, but as exciting as all that was, something else caught my attention. Actually, it was the lack of something that struck me. I didn’t have any flowers in my room. Not one balloon, not one card.

            Voices from the hallway spilled into my room, and I watched for a moment to see who they belonged to. First appeared a woman about my age with her hair pulled behind a white, cloth headband. She wore a full-length halter dress and flip-flops. The child, probably her son, hopped from tile to tile as he traveled alongside her. She told him to stop it because hospitals were no place for leaping.

Slowly, a man came into view pushing an I.V. cart. The patient. They were a family, I figured. The mom and son had come to visit the father. A few elderly family members trailed the man. Maybe his parents. They talked about whether or not the man would still be able to go to “D-I-S-N-E-Y land,” the grandmother spelled out, presumably so the child wouldn’t understand the topic.

            As I watched this family’s snapshot, the absence of flowers, cards, and balloons seemed minor in relation to my saddest revelation. No one had come to see me. 

            I broke into Kevin’s impending-sales-victory train with a question. “Do you think we’re ever going to be a family?”

            He stuttered, “Wh-what?”

            “A family.” I spelled it out for him, “Me, you, kids, your parents.”

            “Tori, we’ve already talked about this.”

            I sighed. “I know, I know. It’s just that I’m sitting here in this hospital all alone and—”

            “You’re having a moment, babe. Don’t get down about it, alright? You’ll be up on your feet in a few days. This moment will pass,” he assured me. “I gotta go. I’ll call you when I get a chance.” He hung up before I could even say good-bye.

            My eyes began to sting and lumps jumbled in my throat. I’m having moment? A moment of wanting someone to care enough to check on me? This ain’t no Twix commercial, this is life. I didn’t want a moment of being cared about – I wanted someone to care about me every day.

            I blinked back the tears because crying, like vomiting, was not my forte. The last time I could remember crying, I mean shoulder-shaking, snot-flying crying, was when my mother told me not to cry.

I was sixteen and had just delivered a stillborn baby boy.

Your usual masterful writing in your unique voice. Wow! How can readers find you on the Internet?

www.MichelleStimpson.com, or blog – www.womengic.blogspot.com.

Thanks again, Lena!

And thank you, Michelle, for sharing your new book with us.

Readers, leave a comment for a chance to win a free copy of the book. Please tell us where you live, at least the state or territory. (Comments containing links may be subject to removal by blog owner.)

Void where prohibited; the odds of winning depend on the number of entrants. Entering the giveaway is considered a confirmation of eligibility on behalf of the enterer in accord with these rules and any pertaining local/federal/international laws.

The only notification you’ll receive is the winner post on this blog. So be sure to check back a week from Saturday to see if you won. You will have 6 weeks from the posting of the winners to claim your book.

If you’re reading this on Feedblitz, Facebook, or Amazon, please come to the blog to leave your comment if you want to be included in the drawing. Here’s a link.

Http://lenanelsondooley.blogspot.com

LAST TEMPTATION - Michelle Stimpson - Free Book

I'm so happy to welcome Michelle back to my blog. She's one of the people in the critique group that meets in my home, and she has a very distinctive voice in her writing. Now Michelle, God has really been moving in your writing life. What do you see on the horizon?

I see non-fiction and movies on the horizon! God is indeed moving me, changing me. This is exciting!

Tell us a little about your family.

My husband and I have two wonderful teenagers – Steven (16) and Kalen (15) – and one crazy miniature Cocker named (MiMi). Now that the kids are older and active with sports and church, we’re always coming and going. I don’t know how parents did the whole teenage thing before cell phones!

I'll tell you. It wasn't easy. Has your writing changed your reading habits? If so, how?

Not really. I’ve always read more non-fiction than fiction, so this has not changed. One reason I don’t read a great deal of fiction is because, for some reason, I’m a chameleon when it comes to voice. When I read a novel, I can’t also be writing a novel because somehow the other author’s voice makes it into my books. It’s weird, I know, but the same thing happens to me with accents. When I’m around people with accents, I pick up the accent right away.

I'm kind of like that with accents, but not with voice in novels. What are you working on right now?

I’m not writing anything at the moment – I’m gearing up for book promotions, which is a job in itself. I’ll probably write a few short stories in the next month or so, and I do plan to finish my second screenplay over Thanksgiving break.

What outside interests do you have?

Recently, my daughter and I started making scripture bracelets, so that’s my next big she-bang (http://www.wordwatch.net/ ).

And I have one of those. They're wonderful. How do you choose your settings for each book?

I’m lazy when it comes to settings. Most of my stories take place in areas I’m familiar with so I won’t have to do a ton of research. I think the characters drive my stories more than anything, so setting isn’t necessarily a huge deal for me.

If you could spend an evening with one historical person, who would it be and why?

I just re-read Mary Kay Ash’s autobiography, and I’d really like to sit down with her and just listen to what she has to say about women, business, and partnering for success. Her book was great, but I think there’s probably something in her delivery that I’d like to see first-hand.

She was an amazing woman. What is the one thing you wish you had known before you started writing novels?

This is a tough question for me because while I do know things I didn’t know before, I can’t say that it would be better for me to have known these things ahead of time. I value the experiences I’ve had as an author, and I wouldn’t change anything. So, while I did make some mistakes, those mistakes birthed invaluable lessons that I couldn’t have learned otherwise. Romans 8:28 in action!

God's timing is always perfect in our lives. What new lessons is the Lord teaching you right now?

Oh my goodness, the biggest lesson I’m learning right now is not to panic! I’m normally an easy-going person, really. People who know me think I’m the happy-go-lucky, que sera sera type, and usually I am. My life is usually pretty fun, and easy, and even when I have problems, they’re usually not that crucial. But lately, I’ve been faced with some serious situations that are completely out of my control; situations where a negative outcome would be life-changing. God is teaching me to stop and pray. To trust Him. To stand on His word and believe that His yoke is easy, His burdens light (Matthew 11:30). Yes, there are problems in life because I have an enemy – but that enemy is defeated already. So, right now, my biggest lesson is that no problem I have ever had or ever will have will be bigger than God. I shouldn’t be passive about life, but I shouldn’t be panicking, either.

We all need to learn that lesson. What are the three best things you can tell other authors to do to be successful?

(I only have one piece of advice at the moment) Trust God. Some of my best interviews, sales months, and opportunities have come not when I’m beating down people’s doors and hounding them the “let me in,” but when I’ve taken the time to get God’s direction. Slow down and let God open the doors!

Now, Michelle, tell us about the featured book.

Last Temptation is actually a follow-up to my first novel, Boaz Brown. The main character in Last Temptation, Patricia “Peaches” Miller, is a single mother who has fallen in love and is engaged to marry the man of her dreams, Quinn Robertson. But when Quinn accepts a job transfer to Philadelphia and lets Peaches know that they’ll be leaving Dallas soon after the wedding, Peaches has to reconsider. At the same time, her son’s father (Raphael) suddenly becomes re-interested in Peaches. Peaches has always felt a sense of guilt about bringing a child into the world without being married. She begins to wonder if she owes it to her son to give his biological father another chance. Maybe Raphael’s the one she should have been with all along?

Interesting. Please give us the first page of the book.

Quinn’s proposal was not a big surprise. Actually, it was one of those “it’s about time” moments. We’d been dating exclusively for almost eighteen months and those karats were long overdue, in my book. I believe in taking my time, but my body doesn’t. Any Christian woman can be celibate when she’s single, but throw a six foot tall chocolate brown brother with a sharp goatee and a good job in the mix…hmph, a sister is liable to get all shook up. Yes, Quinn was a wonderful man who loved the Lord, loved me, and treated my 8-year-old son, Eric, like his own. The faith was there, the love was there, the Lord was there. But I won’t lie – my flesh was so weak for Quinn I thought I was gonna have to go on Ebay and find me a chastity belt.

So when he finally popped the question by calling me out and proposing on stage after the local college’s production of A Raisin in the Sun (which he directed), I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, the wait was over.

Don’t get me wrong: the single life was good while it lasted. There’s nothing like being able to do what you want to do, when you want to do it, how you want to do it. But that gets old after a while – 34 years, in my case. I suppose if my best friend, LaShondra, were still single, it wouldn’t be so bad. And if Deniessa, my friend and former co-worker, hadn’t married that good and throwed-off Jamal last year, I would at least have someone to watch The Best Man with. Well, now it was my turn to join the ranks of married women and start the next chapter in my life. Thank you, Lord.

How can readers find you on the Internet?

http://www.michellestimpson.com/

Thanks, Lena, for the opportunity! You had a hand in this book, and I appreciate you!

And I love this book. Thank you for spending this time with us.
 
Readers, here's a link to the book. By using it when you order, you help support this blog.

Leave a comment for a chance to win a free copy of the book. New information: Please tell us where you live, at least the state or territory. I’m trying to get a good idea of where the people live who leave comments on my blog. (Comments containing links may be subject to removal by blog owner.)

Void where prohibited; the odds of winning depend on the number of entrants. Entering the giveaway is considered a confirmation of eligibility on behalf of the enterer in accord with these rules and any pertaining local/federal/international laws.

The only notification you’ll receive is the winner post on this blog. So be sure to check back a week from Saturday to see if you won. You will have 6 weeks from the posting of the winners to claim your book.

If you’re reading this on Feedblitz, Facebook, or Amazon, please come to the blog to leave your comment. Here’s a link.

http://lenanelsondooley.blogspot.com/

Author Michelle Stimpson - TROUBLE IN MY WAY - Free Book

Michelle is one of the authors God brought to the critique group that meets in my home. I've learned to really love her and her writing. Welcome, Michelle. Why do you write the kind of books you do?

I enjoy writing realistic fiction that causes people to think and re-think their relationships, mostly their relationship with Christ.

Besides when you came to know the Lord, what is the happiest day in your life?

Hmmm…this is a tough one! The happiest day was probably the day I got the call from a major publisher expressing interest in my work. I remember running through the house and just praising God! Although that deal didn’t actually come to fruition, the editor gave me a great deal of confidence.

I know about that running through the house praising God. How has being published changed your life?

It has made me a very faithful, optimistic person. The funniest thing, however, is how the really important things haven’t changed – my family, my friends. One day when I was really kind of excited about something pertaining to one of my books, I called home and began telling my 7-year-old daughter what a big deal it was. She said, “Okay, but we need some milk.” Talk about keeping me grounded!

My family is like that, too. To them, I'm just Mom or Grandma. I just happen to write books. What are you reading right now?

I’m reading My Lobotomy by Howard Dully. I know it sounds gross, but I’ve always been fascinated by the lobotomy and medical oddities, so I started reading it. The silence of the 50’s and 60’s is always interesting to me, too. The whole idea of hiding family secrets and keeping up pretenses intrigues me.

I grew up in that "secret" society. To move from that mindset was freeing. What is your current work in progress?

I’m working on a couple of things. One is a collection of short stories for high school students. I’ll self-publish this set. Another is I Met Him in the Ladies’ Room – a novel about a young woman who accepted Christ so she could get a job at a church.

And this book is really funny and poignant. What would be your dream vacation?

I’d like to visit Hawaii – sit in the breeze, view the ocean. But I’m not a big fan of the outdoors (the bugs, you know) so I wouldn’t be out all day!

How do you choose your settings for each book?

I’m kind of lazy when it comes to settings. I write contemporary realistic fiction, so I pretty much put people in places I know well.

If you could spend an evening with one person who is currently alive, who would it be and why?

I’d like to spend some time with Joyce Meyer. I could use a good talkin’ to.

James and I really enjoy Joyce, too. We've been in James Robison's studio a couple of times when they were recording an interview with her for Life Today. What are your hobbies, besides writing and reading?

When I get the chance, I like to watch medical mystery TV shows. Outside of that, I spend time involved in my kids’ activities – ROTC, basketball, track and such. Movies are also fun when I get the chance.

What is your most difficult writing obstacle, and how do you overcome it?

My biggest difficulty is sticking to one project. I have this “system” of sorts – when I get tired of one book, I sometimes go write a short story. Then I go back to the book. This works fine so long as I’m not under a deadline. But when the deadline approaches, I’m all business. Some would call me a procrastinator – but I believe I work best under pressure.

What advice would you give to a beginning author?

You don’t have to like every single word you write – just get it out there and then you can fix it later.

Tell us about the featured book?

I had so much fun writing this book! The main character, Karis, is 16 years old. She is the daughter of a single mom who was only 16 when she gave birth to Karis. Now, however, her mother is a minister who uses her life to glorify God. Karis is caught in the middle of her relationship with God and her relationship with her mother, who seems to be clamping down on Karis’s social life for fear that Karis will repeat the mistakes of the past. All the while, Karis has LOTS Of drama with friends, boys, and her father’s girlfriend. I went back to my old journals to write this one. I look forward to the opportunity to minister to young girls through this novel.

Please give us the first page of the book.

Dear Me,

Derrick is cute -- NOT! I can't believe I risked my life by having Tamisha take me over to his house instead of the football game. Seriously, if my mom found out, I would be writing my eulogy instead of writing this journal entry. And for what? Some boy who does not have one single real DVD in his famed DVD collection! I swear, every single movie he had was bootleg. I think his whole room was bootleg. His whole game is bootleg, when I think about it! He acts like one thing in the beginning, but when you look closely, you realize it's not exactly as good as the real thing.

Okay, here's what happened: Tamisha took me over to his house -- we synchronized our watches -- she was to pick me up in EXACTLY forty-five minutes. There was no one except Derrick at his house, so I knew I didn't want to be over there too long. Anyway, we started watching a movie on the floor in his bedroom. Everything was fine at first. I mean, so long as I didn't stare at him right in the face, it was okay. I just kept trying to think about all the wonderful things we'd talked about on the phone because he was NOT as cute as I remember him. So, there we were watching the movie to the best of my ability since it was a little blurry. I was just getting beyond the fact that I had to ignore the line running through the middle of the screen, and the next thing I know, Derrick is trying to kiss and hug and all that.

I was like, "Hold up! Wait a minute!" and he was like, "What's wrong, baby?" like this is some kind of bad music video. I could not believe how he was trying to turn our movie-watching into some kinda romantic rondayvu (spelling??). When we're on the phone, he's an innocent little boy, but when we were together, he was a grown octopus! I'm not saying I wasn't feeling his kisses -- I'm just saying, I wasn't trying to do all that. See, I know how and when to draw the line. I know when enough is enough. Thank God, Tamisha came right on time! I was outta there so quick! I know Derrick is nice and all, but he is not the one for me. Maybe we should just be friends because #1, he is not that cute, and #2 he is having some issues right now that I cannot help him out with. I think I'll leave him alone until his hormones settle down.
-- Karis Laying-Low Reed

I don't know which is more stupid -- me going over to Derrick's house, or me writing about it in my journal knowing how straight-up nosey my mother is. I mean, I know that a momma's gotta do what a momma's gotta do. But does a momma have to read my journal and get all up in my personal business? What about my American rights? My Texas rights? My basic human need for privacy? First my journal -- next thing you know, she'll be following me into the bathroom.

The bathroom; that's a good place to go right about now.

I wait until my mother turns her back and takes a breather between the yelling spells. I'm doing my best to rise from the couch without making a sound. Her head whips around instantly.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To the bathroom," I reply, throwing in a bit of whine for effect.

"Sidown," she hisses.

I bounce on the balls of my feet, faking the biological emergency. "But I've really gotta go."

She throws her hands up in the air and they land on her hips as she half-laughs, "That's what you should have been saying when Tamisha dropped you off at your little man-ish boyfriend's house when you were supposed to be at a football game: 'I've really gotta go.' But noooo, you couldn't say it then, so don't be sayin' it now. You ain't really gotta go nowhere. Okay?"

I've already slipped back onto the couch, and I mumble, "Yes, ma'am."

My mother does a cha-cha slide over to me and pushes hot words onto my face. "I can't hear you!"

I look her in the eyes and answer again, "Yes, ma'am."

Then she takes a few steps back toward the center of our living room and reaches down to the coffee table, picking up my beloved pink-heart journal again. I still cannot believe she read it.

"And what is this?" she traces over the entry until her pearl-tipped fingernail lands on what she's looking for. She wags her head as she mocks me, "'When we're on the phone, he's an innocent little boy, but when we were together, he was a grown octopus.' What's that supposed to mean, huh?"

Mrs. Clawson, my pre-Advanced Placement English teacher, would have appreciated my fine use of figurative language. "It's just a metaphor, Mom."

"A meta-four!" She slams my journal shut, and the resulting puff of air makes her soft brown bangs do the wave. "According to this diary, it would have had a meta-five and a meta-six, given a few more minutes. Tell me, Karis, what would you have done if Tamisha hadn't come back to pick you up when she did, huh? What if Tamisha hadn't been on time? What if you had started 'feeling' your little boyfriend's kisses? Then what?"

I want to tell her that, first of all, Derrick is not my boyfriend. But somehow I think that might damage my case, so I keep that bit of information to myself. The second thing I wish I could tell her is that there was no way I would have done anything stupid with Derrick. I want to tell her that I timed things precisely to protect myself from crossing the line. I also want to tell her that Derrick and I talk on the phone for hours at a time and I have intense feelings for him. Next to Tamisha and Sydney, Derrick is my best friend, kind of. Well, I used to trust him until he turned into that eight-legged marine creature. Besides, he is really only a six on the face and body scale. When I saw him on the basketball court, he looked like Bow Wow. But when I saw him up close at his house, he looked like maybe he could be Bow Wow's half brother. Plus one of his front teeth was longer than the other. Believe me, my mother does not ever have to worry about me sneaking off to Derrick's house again.

Nonetheless, my mother would not understand these things. She's a minister. Need I say more? So in response to her question about what I would have done, I default to my standard answer, which turns out to be the stupidest thing I can say. "I don't know."

"You don't know? What you mean, you don't know? I betcha Derrick knows. I betcha Tamisha knows. I know what would have happened, 'cause it happened to me and that's how I ended up pregnant with you when I was your age. You think I don't know what boys and girls your age do when they're together for hours unsupervised? And, really, it don't take hours. It only takes a few minutes to do something that can change your life forever!"

She stands there for a minute, towering over me. I jump a little when, out of the corner of my eye, I see her right hand approaching my face. It's moving too slowly for a slap, so I calm down a bit as she puts her forefinger and thumb on either side of my chin, raises my face, and makes me look at her.

Her light brown almond-shaped eyes are a mirror of mine. We've both got the same eyes, the same light brown skin, the same dark brown hair and roughly the same skinny shape. Right now, my mom is about three inches taller than me. But if it weren't for her pudgy stomach and her wider hips (which she, of course, blames on me), we could probably trade jeans. Everybody says we look more like sisters than mother and daughter. She thinks it's a compliment. I don't. Who wants to look like her mother? But these eyes, they are both mine and hers. And just when I see a pool of tears forming in them, she points me toward the hallway and says, "I can't stand to look at you right now."

I wish she'd make up her mind. Does she want me to look at her or not?

Minutes later, we start with the all-too-familiar routine. She comes into my room to collect my cell phone and my modem. I can keep the computer for the sake of school. I can go on the internet in the den, but only for academic purposes. There goes my social life.

"Where's the iPod?" she asks.

This is a new one. "That, too?" I protest. "Daddy gave it to me!"

She raises her eyebrows. "And?"

I cannot believe my mother is this mean! This is straight boo-dee, but I can't say so without getting into more trouble -- not that that's possible at this point. Slowly, I reach into my Louis Vuitton drawstring bag and pull out the hot pink iPod, a gift my father gave me only two weeks ago to celebrate my sixteenth birthday. Unlike the other items she's taking away, this one hurts. I try real hard, but I can't stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. It feels like she's taking my daddy away from me. Again.

That's all she ever does is take, take, take. She takes my freedom, she takes my friends, my family, everything! I think she wants to take my life because she didn't have hers. She missed the homecoming games because she couldn't find a babysitter, she missed her senior prom because I had pneumonia, and she didn't graduate with her class because she had to sit out a semester. Basically, she lost her teen years when she got pregnant with me at sixteen -- but how is that my problem? Why do I have to pay for her mistakes? I'm not my mom, and she's not me! The more I think about it, the madder I get.

My mother takes the iPod in hand and wraps the headphone cord around the rectangular box as she walks toward my bedroom door. I want to scream something from one of those poor little rich girl movies -- something like "I wish I was never born!" -- but there is always the possibility that my mother will do her best to make my wish come true by killing me now. The safest thing I think I can get away with while she's still in the room is crossing my arms on my chest. I'm pushing it.

Somehow, my mother sees me and says under her breath, "Keep on and you won't be getting a car for Christmas."

I know she did not just threaten me with the car my daddy has already promised me for Christmas when I pass my driver's test! "What's the point? It'll just be one more thing for you to take away from me." Who said that? I hold my breath and wait to see what my momma will bop me with. She's got a cell phone, a modem, and an iPod in hand. Those shouldn't hurt too badly.

She keeps her back to me as she grabs hold of the doorknob. She stops and takes a deep breath. I feel like I'm in a movie theater, waiting for the bad guy to jump out of the closet and attack the innocent victim. But instead, my mother says in a calm, even tone, "For your sake and mine, I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that because I don't believe that God has called me into the prison ministry."

When my mother shuts the door behind her, I bury my face in my pillow and scream as loud as I can without letting her hear me. That's when the door opens again and my journal comes flying across the room, barely missing my head. I grab the journal and, for a moment, consider ripping each page to shreds. I still don't understand what gives her the right to read my stuff. In that whole forty-five-minute lecture she gave me, she never once mentioned the violation of my privacy. Where is the justice?

Instead of destroying my journal, I grab a pen from my desk and write:

Dear Me,
Mom just read my journal. Here is what I'm thinking:
#1 -- Nothing happened at Derrick's house, so I don't know what the big deal is.
#2 -- I can take care of myself, which was actually proven in the journal!
#3 -- What gives my mother the right to just go in my room and pick up my journal and read it?
#4 -- If my mom keeps me from getting the car that my daddy promised me, I will leave this house!
#5 -- Derrick does not look like Bow Wow. Do not ever fall for a guy that you have only seen from the 9th row up in the stands at a basketball game.
Maybe I should stop writing all of my personal stuff down. But if I do that, who will I tell all my problems? I mean, I have my friends, but they don't understand me like this journal does. No, I can't give up the journal. I will just have to find a good hiding place for it.
-- Karis I've-Been-Wronged Reed

Now I'm searching all over my room for a journal hideout spot. I've got to hide it in a place where it's so out of place no one would ever look there. There again, I have a problem. My mother might have the voice to be a minister, but she's got a nose that could outsniff a hound dog. She can smell trouble all over me. When I was little and I got a bad note from school, I could barely get off the bus before she'd say, "Something's wrong with you. What happened at school today?" And since I've never been a good liar (at least not to my mother, anyway), I'd have to break down and tell her the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

I'm searching through the closet now for a place big enough to hold a journal but small enough to be inconspicuous, and that's when I decide to forget it. Deep down inside, the truth is: I don't want to hide things from my mother. Once again, the tears start to sting my eyes. It bothers me that she read my journal. My mother and I have been living in this house alone for the last five years. When she and my father divorced, she got the house and me. She's always talking about how we only have each other and God. Always talking about how levelheaded I am, what a blessing it is to have a daughter who is so self-reliant. So what made her think that she had to read my journal? What happened to the trust? In a way, I feel like she deserves whatever she got for reading it.

I figure the best thing I can do is stop writing in the journal until I'm eighteen, at which point I can do and write whatever because I will be grown. You hear me -- grown! I cannot wait for that day! Go where I want to go, do what I want to do, answer to nobody but myself. And God, I suppose, but that shouldn't be too hard, since He already knows everything.

I close my journal and put it where I have always put it -- in my top drawer. If I can't have my privacy and if my mother can't trust me, then...whatever. That's on her, except right now it's on me because I'm the one who's grounded. There's something seriously wrong with this picture.

That teaser should really whet readers' appetites for the book. Now Michelle, how can readers find you on the Internet?

My main website is: http://www.michellestimpson.com/.

I post articles at http://www.womengrowinginchrist.com/, and I tour with 6 other Christian fiction authors – our tour information is at http://www.anointedauthorsontour.com/.

Thank you for spending this time with us, Michelle.

Readers, for your convenience, here's a link where you can order Trouble In My Way:

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