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Thursday, July 30, 2015

New From Cindy K Green!

Ella Valentine doubts she’ll ever recover when her twin brother passes away in college. Four years later, living in a new city and working for a large corporation, she gets caught in a lie and saddled with a new boss who she suspects might be losing his mind. Now he has her enacting insane acts of espionage while trying to catch the culprit who has embezzled money from their company. If it wasn’t for his deep brown eyes and lazy smile she just might quit. Is this God’s plan for her life? She isn’t even sure who she is anymore without her twin and the way things are going she just might end up in the loony bin. 
Charles “Charlie” Murray II may be the heir presumptive to his father’s industrial dynasty, but all he really wants is to create—be it drawings or a marketing campaign. When he’s summoned to the home office to take over the position of CFO, he discovers his new assistant is the same woman who passed him a phony phone number in a diner the previous weekend. If he can figure out who’s been stealing from the company, he just might attain the position of his dreams or will he sacrifice it all to be with Ella.  

--- Cindy K Green, author of Humorous, Heartfelt, Spirit-Filled Fiction   

Visit Cindy here!

Order your copy here!


Ella punched the button for the lobby and waited. Oh, why had she waited? Why hadn’t she taken the stairs? Behind her, she heard rapid steps thumping down the hallway. She peeked back to see Charlie Murray rushing toward her. He didn’t appear calm and mellow, like at the restaurant—not even charming and confident, as he’d been in the office. No, he was angry. Why on earth should he be angry? She’s the one who just lost her job.

Oh, dear Lord! I lost my job! No, I just quit my job. She held up the photograph. “George, I am a colossal idiot.”

What had she done? Obviously, she needed more prayer than she thought. And now what was Charlie planning to do to her? She decided not to stick around and find out. In a flash, she took off down the side hall toward the stairs. She pulled open the heavy steel door and glanced over to see Charlie still coming right for her, and this time he was jogging. After running through the doorway, she took the cement steps to the floor below as quickly as she could.

“Ella, stop!”

She paused on a step for just a second to peer up at Charlie staring down at her, a deep frown marring his handsome face.

“Stop following me. I quit, remember?”

“I remember. Now hold on. We need to discuss this.” He started down the stairs.

Her heart raced with panic. With his much longer legs, he was bound to catch up with her in no time. She launched herself down the next set of stairs. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Yes, there is,” he shouted back. “Now stand still, because I’m bringing you back to the office with me one way or another.”

She stopped and his footsteps ceased, as well. Would he actually force her back to the office? She could almost imagine him picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder fireman-style to carry her back to the office.

Carefully, she peeked up the stairwell. Shimmering brown eyes filled with determination met hers. Her breathing from all the running remained elevated.

“Ella…what are you running off…like that…for?”

Charlie stood right in front of her now, a little short of breath and patience, too. He couldn’t hide the flash of annoyance ruminating in his dark eyes, as he stared her down.

Like he had any right to be mad at her! What had she done? Not a thing. Except quit. And she had every right to do that. The longer she looked at him and ignored the cute dimple in his cheek, the angrier she got.

“Now, just take a step back, mister.” She held her palm out to him. “I quit, and you have no right to force me to come back.” With her wool coat in place, she felt incredibly warm. Why had she put it on when she was still inside the building? A trickle of perspiration formed at the back of her neck.
“You’re right.” The way he smiled just then made it absolutely impossible to ignore the dimple a second longer and her anger began to wane.

But then she remembered why she could never see this man again, never be in his presence, and most definitely never work for him. That Saturday night. The flirting. The fake number.

“Y…you should have told me,” she blurted out, “who you really are.” His eyes opened wider, as if confused. “At the diner. ‘Just Charlie.’” She firmed her mouth and tilted her head slightly.

In response, he gave her a relaxed smile. He leaned into the wall of the stairwell and placed his hands into his pockets. “I like just being Charlie. It fits me a whole lot better than Charles Murray II.”

His sincerity at that moment moved something deep inside her chest. It must have been her heartstrings. It had been a long time since someone had yanked on them. She’d done her very best to keep them hidden away. Away from the players, the liars and the commitment-a-phobes. Away from anyone looking one iota like Mr. Charles Murray II.

And yet she couldn’t help but think that Charlie wasn’t like many of the men she’d dated. He had eyes that seemed too direct and too earnest to ever intentionally hurt someone. And it seemed as if the boss’s son carried a burden of his own. You probably needed big shoulders to carry the Murray name around. Although, in point of fact, Charlie had mighty broad shoulders, now that she came to think of it.

Oh, she couldn’t think. Her emotions were a blur racing through her system. Pondering the width of Charlie’s shoulders was not helping. She lowered her eyes and leaned against the door to the third floor. If she looked into his eyes one more second, he could probably get her to do whatever he wanted. She glanced at the photograph and focused on George’s face. If only her brother were here now. He’d get her out of this mess.

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Encouragement From Bible Gateway

How to Finally Stop Procrastinating


"The appetite of the lazy craves, and gets nothing, while the appetite of the diligent is richly supplied." Proverbs 13:4 (NRSV)

My husband and I used to laugh and say if it weren’t for the last minute, nothing would get done. Then we’d stay up all night to finish a project due the next day, or make the whole family stressed because of our stress. It wasn’t funny.

I laughed it off at the time because I didn’t really think it was a problem. Everyone procrastinates on something, I reasoned. Plus, what more could I do? The problem certainly wasn’t with me.

On the surface, there were always reasons why I couldn’t get everything done. Good, solid reasons. Like I’d taken on too much work. Or my family needs were too demanding. And the technology which should have made my life easier, actually made it harder sometimes. Who couldn’t understand that? I reassured myself.

Then faced with a deadline, I snapped at everyone, stayed up late and rushed to finish what needed to be done. Consequently, everything suffered. My family was shortchanged, my work was sub-par and I became a person I didn’t like very much.

Those issues affecting me were all legitimate. But there was still another issue afoot. One that took some soul searching to identify. And that was an internal desire for ease rather than challenge.
This truth about myself hit hard when I read Proverbs 13:4, today’s key verse: "The appetite of the lazy craves, and gets nothing, while the appetite of the diligent is richly supplied."

At first, I didn’t think this verse applied to me. How could I be lazy when I’m always busy?

In fact, I didn’t know any woman around me who was lazy. So why did we all tend to complain about not being able to get important things done?

But then it hit me, faced with a choice between two tasks, my tendency is to choose whichever seems easier. I tend to put off what’s difficult until I "feel more like it." But that day never comes because I never feel like organizing my tax information or tackling projects that highlight my weak areas.
So my days were filled, but filled with less challenging work.

And my to-do list got longer, overflowing with tasks and projects I’d much rather avoid. The crazy thing is I will even avoid good things if I think it will make me address an issue I’d rather not face … like clothes shopping and having to admit my size isn’t what it once was.

Eventually I got around to doing my work, but usually with a wrong heart, with a shadow of the quality I could produce or with so much frustration that it affected everything else. Some fabulous opportunities I just abandoned, because how could I follow a dream if I couldn’t even keep my kitchen counters clear?

I even realized I was disobedient to God in some areas. Of course, they were the hard things God asked me to do. I’d much rather obey God in the easy areas … but step out and take a risk? I’ll do that another day, thank you very much.

Sometimes an "aha" moment is exactly what we need to change. When I realized my tendency to avoid discomfort, to choose ease over challenge, I felt like I could finally address my procrastination.

Read the rest here.

Friday, July 10, 2015

LoRee Peery on Writing and Her New Release

Waiting, while Working and Writing

Therefore, the Lord longs to be gracious to you, and therefore He waits on high to have compassion on you. For the Lord is a God of justice; how blessed are those who long for Him. Isaiah 30:18 (NASB)

God waits to have compassion on me, while I live and work and write.

What? God waits? He’s a God who speaks and thing happen. He slows down and waits for me?

I’m familiar with waiting as part of a successful writing journey. Waiting while I work is part of never giving up. Keeping at it is considered perseverance. I was tempted at times, but I didn’t stop writing for long. A prolific writing life consists of several stories in various stages simultaneously. When one story is finished and in the mail, another project is in the works.

Writers do a lot of waiting in all stages of the process.

I’ve had days a session at the keyboard ended with multiple pages, and I’ve had times I produced one page or a single paragraph. I’ve submitted a story and not heard a word back from the publisher for months on end.

I didn’t grow up in an instant-gratification society. I’ve waited in the valleys of life when a circumstance, problem, situation, or trial seemed to go on forever. There are things I still wait for, such as answers to my father’s forty-year-old unsolved homicide.

Waiting on my part can be a continual blessing, an eager expectation, as long as I relax my impatience to focus on God. As Zoe M. McCarthy claims, the Lord is my Co-Author, so I better enter projects with Him at my side. He is a sojourner right along with me. He waits to bless me at the right time. His time.

Longing goes hand in hand with waiting, on my side and on God’s side. I wait and long for results of my labor. God waits for a faith moment, an Aha moment on my part, from my heart to His. This waiting on both our parts is to shape me so I’m fit for the place He has prepared for my eternal home (John 14:2).

As He waits for me, I continue to work. If I invite Him along, He grants me grace for the journey. My goal is to bring Him glory.

I can’t do this, whatever “this” may be in life, or writing, without Him.


Oh, my gracious, patient Father. You are the Author of creation, the embodiment of all the writers compiled in the Bible. Increase in me a longing for you, while at the same time You grace my writing for your glory. I thank You eternally, in the Name of Jesus. Amen.

Christian romance author LoRee Peery writes to feel alive, as a way of contributing, and to pass forward the hope of rescue from sin. She writes of redeeming grace with a sense of place. LoRee clings to I John 5:4 and prays her family sees that faith. She has authored the Frivolities Series and other e-books. Her desire for readers, the same as for her characters, is to discover where they fit in this life journey to best work out the Lord’s life plan. She is who she is by the grace of God: Christian, country girl, wife, mother, grandmother, sister, friend, and author. She’s been a reader since before kindergarten. One day she slapped a story in her lap. “I could write better than this.” (Lofty assumption, eh?) Her dear hubby challenged, “Why don’t you?” Thus her writing journey began many moons ago. Connect with LoRee through these links:

Shattered by the loss of her parents, Deena pours her love into her patients at an assisted living facility. When the son of one her charges starts showing up to spend time with his mother, Deena's wary heart is warmed by his attention to his mother...and to her. Simon is plagued by his ex-wife's disappearance years before. When he meets Deena, who closely resembles the woman, he fears his attraction is based only on Deena's looks. But she exhibits a warmth his ex-wife never had. Dare he risk his once broken heart? As two lonely souls pursue a tentative, budding love, secrets and lies come forward to tear them apart. Can Simon and Deena overcome loss and allow their hearts to mend?

Where Hearts Meet


Deena strained to catch what he’d said. “I’m sorry. I should have been more sensitive to your reunion with Angelina. I don’t mean to pry.”
“You aren’t prying at all. I consider you close enough to confide in. We’ve already shared a lot of who we are. And my ex is no longer my focus. You came into my life because of my mother. You mean something to me now, aside from that professional service, based on your own merit.”
She’d think about all that later, when she was alone. Then she’d dwell on the subject of her growing love for Simon.
But wait. A short time ago she’d thought of friendship as her only option. She had to sort this out. Later. Right now she was blessed by a few moments of time spent with this wonderful man.
Their walk had gone fast.
She pointed to the full color poster outside the yogurt shop window in front of them. “I’m all for paying attention to food, as in a banana split. How about you?”
“Double fudge sundae with all the trimmings has my mouth watering. Shall we sit outside?”
At her nod, he pulled out a wire back ice cream chair for her and went in to place their orders.
Her mind drifted while he was inside.
Giggling teen girls circled one table and a dark-complexioned girl of mixed race sat across the table from a woman Deena took for a grandmother.
Simon would be the only male seated outside when he joined her.
She observed him through the window as he stood at the counter. Her gaze traversed the caramel colored leather boots, the casual fitting light denim jeans topped by a tangerine button-down shirt with rolled cuffs, past the corded neck and whisker shaded jaw on up to his finger grooved hair. Her heart beat ever faster and her chest visibly rose and fell.
Then he turned and caught her eye, slanting a smile that turned her blood molten.
She needed ice-cold yogurt to cool her down. No doubt about it, she had it bad. Oh, if she could shout to the world that Simon Hart was her one true love!
He used the back of his hand to push through the door. Every female watched him approach her table. His wide shouldered swagger, his pure physical appeal probably had them salivating and inwardly sighing. But the macho man was with her.
She cleared her throat, focused on the cherry atop her banana split, and willed her system to simmer down. “This looks delectable. Thank you so much.”
“You’re very welcome. I almost gobbled up that whipped cream topping.”
“Hey, you’ve got enough chocolate there to coat your arteries.” She set the cherry aside to savor last. “And it looks like a handful of pecans.”
“Reminds me of your lips,” he said, leaning low across the small table to place paper napkins near her hand.
“Uhm…Hmm?” she murmured around a bite of banana.
“The cherry is the color of your lipstick. You know it just begs for me to taste it and make it fade.”
“My lipstick wore off hours ago. But you’ve got chocolate on the corner of your mouth.” She pointed with her black plastic spoon.
“Want to kiss it off for me?”
“You are talking way too crazy, unless you want to give those girls at the far table something to drool over.”
“No thanks. There’s only one girl out here I want to drool over me.”

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Wednesday, July 01, 2015

Today's Reading-- CS Lewis

[One of the most unpopular of the Christian virtues] is laid down in the Christian rule, ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.’ Because in Christian morals ‘thy neighbour’ includes ‘thy enemy’, and so we come up against this terrible duty of forgiving our enemies.

Every one says forgiveness is a lovely idea, until they have something to forgive, as we had during the war. And then, to mention the subject at all is to be greeted with howls of anger. It is not that people think this too high and difficult a virtue: it is that they think it hateful and contemptible. ‘That sort of talk makes them sick,’ they say. And half of you already want to ask me, ‘I wonder how you’d feel about forgiving the Gestapo if you were a Pole or a Jew?’

So do I. I wonder very much. Just as when Christianity tells me that I must not deny my religion even to save myself from death by torture, I wonder very much what I should do when it came to the point.

I am not trying to tell you in this book what I could do—I can do precious little—I am telling you what Christianity is. I did not invent it. And there, right in the middle of it, I find ‘Forgive us our sins as we forgive those that sin against us.’ There is no slightest suggestion that we are offered forgiveness on any other terms.

From Mere Christianity