Promoting Christian Fiction Authors–Dawn V. Cahill

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Moonstone Secrets – Seattle Trilogy, Book 2

As the Christmas season sparkles around her, DeeDee McCreary eagerly anticipates visiting magical Victoria, BC, with her boyfriend, Nick, and meeting his family. But the trip proves disastrous. First, Nick finds his bank account cleaned out. Then he disappears. Frantic, she determines to uncover what happened. When she discovers something far worse than she anticipated, she questions everything she believes to be true about him.
With the man she loves in jail for an unspeakable crime, DeeDee knows the truth lies somewhere in Nick and his ex-wife’s past. But if she pursues their secrets, will she put herself in danger, too?
What are readers saying about Moonstone Secrets?
  • “I couldn’t put it down. The vivid descriptions and the setting pulled me into the story.” – reader Joy
  • “The sisterly bond was wonderful to see, how they stuck by each other. It was good to meet up with DeeDee and Livy again.” – reader Julia

Author Dawn V. Cahill pens “Stories of Victorious Faith for the 21st Century,” nearly always with a crossword puzzle, sudoku, or dark chocolate nearby. “The characters in my stories face situations that would have been unthinkable even 20 years ago. We live in a vastly different world than our parents did, and that’s the world I write about.”
Ms. Cahill also blogs about puppies, substance abuse, and single parenting…sometimes all in the same day. She’s going to finish that novel she started at age 11 called Mitch and the Martians…someday. She has written several newspaper articles, three Christian contemporary novels, and more limericks than she can count. Email her at dawn@dawnvcahill.com, or find her on Facebook. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW).
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Promoting Christian Fiction Authors–Angela K Couch

The Patriot and The Loyalist

by Angela K Couch

Completing his three years in the Continental Army, Daniel Reid still has no desire to return home-not after losing the woman he loves to a British Captain-so he volunteers to ride south through enemy lines and deliver a message to Colonel Francis Marion, the Swamp Fox. With his temper needing a release and a dark haired beauty finding her way into his broken heart, Daniel decides to join the Swamp Fox’s efforts against the British. Little does he know the British still have the upper hand.

Lydia Reynolds has learned that love comes at a price, and she refuses to pay. Better to close her heart to everything and everyone. When her brother-in-law won’t grant her passage to England, where she hopes to hide from her pain, New Englander, Daniel Reid, becomes her only hope-if she can induce him to give her information about the notorious Swamp Fox and his troops. When the British grow impatient and Daniel evades her questions, Lydia must decide how far to take her charade. The poor man, already gutted by love, hasn’t grown as wise as she. Or so she supposes. . .
Until the truth is known, the muskets are loaded. . .and it is time to decide where true loyalties lie.
Completing his three years in the Continental Army, Daniel Reid still has no desire to return home-not after losing the woman he loves to a British Captain-so he volunteers to ride south through enemy lines and deliver a message to Colonel Francis Marion, the Swamp Fox. With his temper needing a release and a dark haired beauty finding her way into his broken heart, Daniel decides to join the Swamp Fox’s efforts against the British. Little does he know the British still have the upper hand.
Lydia Reynolds has learned that love comes at a price, and she refuses to pay. Better to close her heart to everything and everyone. When her brother-in-law won’t grant her passage to England, where she hopes to hide from her pain, New Englander, Daniel Reid, becomes her only hope-if she can induce him to give her information about the notorious Swamp Fox and his troops. When the British grow impatient and Daniel evades her questions, Lydia must decide how far to take her charade. The poor man, already gutted by love, hasn’t grown as wise as she. Or so she supposes. . .
Until the truth is known, the muskets are loaded. . .and it is time to decide where true loyalties lie.
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To keep from freezing in the Great White North, Angela K Couch cuddles under quilts with her laptop. Winning short story contests, being a semi-finalist in ACFW’s Genesis Contest, and a finalist in the International Digital Awards also helped warm her up. As a passionate believer in Christ, her faith permeates the stories she tells. Her martial arts training, experience with horses, and appreciation for good romance sneak in there, as well. When not writing, she stays fit (and warm) by chasing after three munchkins.

 

 

Promoting Christian Fiction Authors–Delia Latham

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Oh Baby by Delia Latham

Excerpt:

Psalm 34:8—O taste and see that the Lord is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him.

Soggy. That described the world as far as Dawni Manors could see at the moment.

She peered through the steadily increasing rainfall, straining to make out the cottages lining the graveled path. Rain pelted the roof of her car, its thunderous uproar all but drowning out the frantic slip-slap of the windshield wipers. At least she’d been able to see the big, hand-carved Heart’s Haven sign that marked the complex entrance.

A vivid lightning flash revealed the number nine on a plain silver mailbox, and she blew out a breath. As if in response, her car gave an unexpected sputter, jerked once, and then died—right beside the front gate.

An arched trellis over the white picket entrance supported thick green foliage loaded with vivid red roses. Most days, Dawni made a point of enjoying the simple beauty of that gate. But not on this wet, dreary day.

She gave the ignition a single turn, hoping the shuddering dance the engine had delivered a moment ago had been no more than a warning…like a physical “check engine” light. But her effort was rewarded by no more than an empty click.

With a huff, she tucked the keys into her coat pocket. Where were the so-called Heart’s Haven angels when she needed them?

Another burst of lightning zipped across the sky, and she cringed. OK, OK, angelic realm. I guess I should be grateful I got home before the whole sky opened up.

She grabbed an umbrella from the back seat and hooked her arm through the handle of her purse. Hesitant to get out of the car, she squinted through the windshield once more, hoping for a reprieve, but the rain showed no sign of letting up any time soon. With a frustrated sigh, she stepped out into the downpour, umbrella first.

Despite her hurry to get inside, she cast a quick glance overhead, to a beautifully carved wooden sign hanging on a chain across the top of the arch: May love find all who enter here. A smile teased at her lips as it did every time she passed beneath that optimistic quote. Corny or not, the place oozed charm.

She couldn’t say she hadn’t been warned beforehand.

The day she arrived in Angel Falls, three weeks ago, she’d stopped at the Law Firm of Hilliard and Beckett to clear up some legal questions about running a business from her home. The nice paralegal—Layne Beckett, obviously related in some way to one of the partners—seemed almost overly excited when Dawni told her she’d found a place at Heart’s Haven. Layne described the popular complex of cottage rentals as over-the-top homey.

The woman had lived there herself until a few months back, when she married a local horseman and moved to his family’s ranch. Then again, Layne had also mentioned some weird legend about folks who lived in these cottages falling helplessly in love—just as the wooden sign over the gate indicated. Well, love would not “find” Dawni…she had no intention of letting a thing like sappy emotion get in the way of all her plans. She’d worked too hard to make them happen.

The wet chill sent a shiver up her spine, and she hurried up the walk. This was not the time to be basking in Heart’s Haven’s atmosphere. Between a brisk wind and the driving rain, the air held a nippy little bite.

She rushed to the door and tugged the key from her pocket. A grin played at her lips as she inserted it into the lock. Even now, all settled in and unpacked, she found it hard to believe the adorable little cabin “belonged” to her. This place represented not only the home of her own that she’d longed for, but a whole new life.

The key refused to turn. Frowning, she pulled it out, turned it over, and tried it the other way, but then it wouldn’t even slide in. Dawni reversed it and gave the stubborn thing a firm jiggle. Not happening. Just her luck.

“Grrr!” She pounded a frustrated fist on the door and turned to face the wet world…again. She’d have to drive back to the big house up front—if her car would start, that is—and see if Miss Viv had another key. Or maybe a whole new lock, whatever worked.

Behind her, the door swung open. She swung back and her startled gaze landed on a taut midriff, all hard planes and muscular ripples. A simple white t-shirt revealed biceps that…oh, dear. She forced her fascinated gaze ever upward, denying herself the right to linger on broad shoulders and going past a strong, clefted chin to a set of full lips that twitched into a playful smile.

No way! She recognized this man. He’d walked past Layne Beckett’s office that day when she’d first arrived in Angel Falls. Layne had waved and smiled as he passed by.

And—with typical bad timing—Dawni’s tongue won the race against her normal reserve. “Now that’s one handsome Texas cowboy.”

A few steps past Layne’s door, he’d stopped, turned, and tipped his hat. “Why, thank you, ma’am.” He gave her a slow wink and then he was gone, while heat crawled up Dawni’s neck and into her face.

Layne laughed softly. “Gavin works for my husband, and yes, he’s very handsome—and he knows it, but I’m sure you picked up on that.” She shook her head and gave an expressive eye roll. “Still, the guy’s a sweetheart. Dex considers him a brother, and my daughter, Chloe, is absolutely crazy about him.”

Staring at the man now—standing in her doorway as if he belonged there—Dawni steeled her expression. Sweetheart or not, what was this over-confident cowboy doing in her cottage? She ignored those perfect lips and an impossibly straight nose as her gaze traveled to a pair of eyes that sparkled like rich emeralds under slightly longish hair the exact shade of his thick, black eyebrows.

Before she could speak, he did—in a deep, slow Texas drawl. “Well. Hello. Look what the storm brought me!”

She gasped, but since she couldn’t think of an appropriate comeback, Dawni ignored his cheeky statement.

“Who are you?” She peered around him into an inviting, but overtly masculine living room. Leather furniture, a very large rack of deer antlers—ugh—and plants in pots shaped like boots and cowboy hats.

Confusion rippled through her mind and body and brought on a violent shudder. “This—this is my—” She broke off as the truth slammed her full force.

“Hey, come on in.” He interrupted before she could stake a claim to the cottage. “It’s cold out there.” Taking a gentle hold on her elbow, he drew her inside and shut the door before she had a chance to object. “Not that I’m complainin’, but what delightful wind blew you to my door?” He eyed her dripping handbag, hiked one thick eyebrow. “Wait right there. I’ll get a towel.” He disappeared through a doorway.

Dawni shook her head as her stomach took a dive right into the tips of her toes. She’d messed up, and she already knew how. When would she learn to double- check herself before plowing headfirst into situations like this? She’d spent her whole life dealing with mild dyslexia, and still managed to put herself on the spot far more often than she should.

The cowboy reappeared, handed her a towel and relieved her of umbrella and purse in the same motion. “Your hair doesn’t look too wet, thanks to your umbrella, but your purse and arms might need a bit of a rub down.”

Dawni started patting the moisture away, if only to keep from dripping on his floor. “I think I’m, uh—” She swallowed hard. “I’m at the wrong cottage. I thought—” She closed her eyes, despising the hateful wave of heat in her cheeks. “Oh, dear. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, take it easy.” His voice was soft. Dawni opened her eyes and looked at him when he touched her shoulder. “You’re not the first person to ever show up at the wrong waterin’ hole. Which cabin you lookin’ for?”

“Nine.” Mortified, she managed a mere whisper, and he leaned closer, tilting his head in an obvious effort to hear her. “This is six, isn’t it?”

 

DELIA LATHAM is a born-and-bred California gal, raised in a place called Weedpatch and currently living in East Texas with her husband, Johnny. She enjoys multiple roles as Christian wife, mother, grandmother, sister and friend, but especially loves being a princess daughter to the King of Kings. She has a “thing” for Dr. Pepper, and loves to hear from her readers. Contact her through her website or send an e-mail to delia@delialatham.net. Find her also at the following online locations:

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