Wednesday’s Writer with Ann Brodeur

Interview and Excerpt

Today I have award-winning author of Christian Fiction, Ann Brodeur. Ann is here today to share her book, Snowbound in Winterberry Falls and tell us a little about the author behind the story. Welcome, Ann!


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Unwrapping their past – one secret at a time.

Owning her own PR firm is all reporter Stephanie Clark wants for Christmas, but the idea of running a prestigious election campaign in the country’s capital throws her stomach into knots. A last minute vacation road trip to focus and seek God’s direction for her life ends up in disaster when she gets caught in the worst snowstorm to hit Vermont in over a decade, crashing her into a small town and the one person she’d rather forget.

Former photojournalist Jason Miller hadn’t planned on being solely responsible for saving his family business from financial ruin. He’s barely keeping the newspaper in print, his News Editor has gone AWOL during the town’s most celebrated holiday festival, and reports of missing Christmas decorations have everyone on edge. 

When a desperate knock at the newsroom door brings a ghost from Christmas past back into his life, can Jason make up for his prior behavior without breaking his promise to Stephanie’s father? Will Stephanie’s quest to solve the town’s Christmas caper—and uncover the truth about Jason’s disappearance—cost her everything she’s ever wanted? 

When you were young, did you ever see writing as a career or full-time profession?

I recently discovered my diary from when I was ten years old. We moved this summer and I found it in a box of my childhood books. In it, one entry simply states that someday I wanted to be a famous Christian author so I could tell others about Jesus.

Have you ever won any awards for your writing? I have. The piece that kicked off my writing pursuits, was an article I wrote about Childhood Apraxia of Speech. It received an honorable mention in the published category of Writer’s Digest Magazine’s Writing Contest in 2017. Two different novels I’ve written placed first and finaled in contests: RWA Indiana Golden Opportunity 2019, ACFW First Impressions 2019, TARA Award 2020, and RWA Orange County Emerging Writers Contest 2020.

Have you ever received a rejection?

I have. And let me tell you, it really sucks. BUT some of those rejections came with a lot of advice I took to heart. When an editor or judge takes the time to give feedback, writers should consider the points. I applied the criticism and was surprised at how much stronger my writing became.

How long does it take you to write a book?

I’ve been able to write a 50K draft in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Write in a Month), but it was a very rough draft and took lots of editing and re-writing to get a polished manuscript. I’m not eager to do that again!

How long it takes to write a book depends on family life. I have four littles at home and I homeschool all of them at the moment. If I can get thirty minutes of concentrated writing time, I’m having a great day. I can get a lot down on the page if I turn off all the distractions and focus on the story. It takes about three months to write a 60K story, and then two to edit it to the point I’m satisfied and ready to send it off.

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

I love to read! But I also like to crochet and play Blokus with my kids. We camp in the summers, so I love traveling with our family and exploring new areas. 

About Ann

ANN BRODEUR is an award-winning novelist who writes inspirational and contemporary romances offering sweet hope and happy endings. 

When she’s not reading, writing, chasing after her kids or enjoying long chats with her husband, Ann can be found drinking coffee. That’s been reheated several times throughout the day. She aspires to drink a hot beverage in one sitting.

Find Ann Online

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Friday’s Feature with Sarah Hamaker

Interview, Excerpt, and Giveaway!

A family in danger…a U.S. Marshal sworn to protect.
U.S. Marshal Chalissa Manning has been running from her past and God for most of her life. When she meets widower Titus Davis and his son, Sam, her well-built defenses begin to crumble. But someone is targeting Titus and Sam, and it’s up to Chalissa to both protect them and to find out who is behind the attacks. 
As the threats pile up, will Chalissa be able to keep the family she’s grown to love safe?


Today I have Sarah Hamaker sharing her newest release, Protecting Her Witness. Sarah has generously offered to giveaway 2 e-books of Protecting Her Witness. All you have to do is comment here or on any of my social media posts about her newest release. 2 lucky winners will be chosen and notified by Sarah!

Welcome to my blog today, Sarah. It’s great to have you back!

If you could give one piece of advice to an aspiring author, what would it be?

Keep writing. Seriously, it’s so important for writers to write, even if there’s no publishing contract. Write something every day, and when you finish one book, start another one. Your writing time is different from your editing time, so make sure you prioritize writing time.

What does a day in the life of an author look like for you? What is your writing schedule like? 

Last year, I realized I had been going about this writing thing all wrong—and this after I’ve published several traditional and indie books! I needed to make sure my writing time was first, not the leftovers of my day. So I started getting up earlier and being at my computer by 7:30 each day for at least 45 minutes or so of writing time. I don’t check email or do anything but open my Word program and write. That has helped me to get more words down faster—and hopefully, that will translate into more published works!

If you could do anything else, what would it be?

To be honest, I’m doing what I love to do. I’ve always wanted to be a writer and I’ve been bless that’s what I am. I can’t think of anything else I’d rather be doing. But if I couldn’t write for some reason, I’d probably work in a museum or even a cemetery—I loved to visit cemeteries when I was a kid (still do!). Reading tombstones of those long-dead people fired my imagination—who were they? What did they do? How did they live? Who loved them? Questions the writer inside me wanted to answer, and perhaps I do a little bit with my books.

What is your favorite genre of books to read?

I love to read what I write—romantic suspense like Lynette Eason, Natalie Walters, Lisa Harris, Irene Hannon. That’s one reason I love doing my podcast—I get to talk to all my favorite Christian romantic suspense authors! I also enjoy historical World War I mystery series like those by Charles Todd, Gilded Age mysteries like those by Victoria Thompson, and general crime and suspense fiction. For nonfiction, I like biographies and history, depending on what catches my interest. I listen to a lot of audio books too.

What issue or problem do you think your readers will relate to?

In Protecting His Witness, the child of the hero is on the autism spectrum. While I don’t have any bio children on the spectrum, we have had a few foster children with autism, and I wanted to portray an autistic child in a relatable, real way. Because it’s a spectrum, kids on it have a wide range of challenges and abilities, and I hope that this small insight into one such kid will help people understand autism a little bit better.

Read an Excerpt from Chapter 1

Chapter 1

U.S. Marshal Chalissa Manning settled into a steady pace as she ran the gravel loop ringing Burke Lake. She noted the mile marker as she swerved around a mom power-walking while pushing a jogging stroller. Whitney Houston belted “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” into her earbuds, the pulsating beat from 1980s hit in rhythm with her stride. Saturday morning sunlight streamed through the trees lining the pathway. Another mile marker flashed by. Good, she was on pace to finish a 5K run in nineteen minutes. 

She enjoyed running, loved being wrapped in her own world while the miles zipped by. So far, her transfer from the St. Louis, Missouri, office to Arlington, Virginia, had gone smoothly. After four years in St. Louis, she’d been ready for a different city and more challenging opportunities in her career with the U.S. Marshal’s Witness Protection Service. For her, the career clock ticked a little louder, given she had become a Marshal shortly before her thirtieth birthday, while most of her colleagues had entered the service directly after college graduation. Her previous work with troubled youth in residential treatment centers had made her a good fit for witness protection, but being older than most of the other newbies meant she had more to prove—and less time to do it if she wanted to make the Marshals her career. Which she did.

“Help!” A male voice shouted as Chalissa came up on the marina parking lot. “My son’s missing!”

Without hesitation, she veered off the path and into the parking lot, stopping her music and pulling her earbuds out. Several groups of people stood in small clusters near the fishing pier. A tall man wearing jeans and a long-sleeved flannel shirt topped by a vest with multiple pockets approached one of the clusters, his voice raised enough for Chalissa to hear. 

“Have you seen my son?” The group shook their heads collectively, and the man moved onto another group, asking the same question and receiving the same reply.

Chalissa jogged up to him and touched his arm as the man turned away from the group. “Sir? Maybe I can help you?”

The man whipped around so fast he nearly bumped into her. “My son’s gone. He was here just a few minutes ago,” his voice cracked. He swallowed hard, then continued. “I’ve got to find him.”

“Okay, we’ll find him. Tell me your name.” Chalissa pitched her voice low and soothing to project calm in the midst of this man’s personal storm.

“Titus. Titus Davis.” Mr. Davis started to walk away, but Chalissa plucked at his sleeve to bring him to a halt.

“Mr. Davis, my name is Chalissa Manning.” She waited until she had his attention once more. “I’m with the U.S. Marshal Service.” 

She pointed to indicate her cropped leggings and baggy t-shirt. “I’m obviously not here on official Marshal business, but let me help you find your son.”

“You’re with the Marshals?” Mr. Davis’s shoulders relaxed a little at her nod. “Thank goodness.”

“Have you called the police?” 

“No.” He shot a hand through his hair, sending the brown strands every-which-way, but didn’t volunteer any more information. 

“How long would you estimate your son’s been missing?” Chalissa took her phone out of its arm band and opened the notes app. 

“Five minutes.” Mr. Davis had returned his gaze to scanning the area. 

“Mr. Davis.” Chalissa waited until the man looked at her. He had a very attractive face, with its strong jawline and short-cropped beard. Chalissa mentally shook her head. The man had a son, which meant he either had a wife or a significant other. “I know you want to look for your son, but these questions will help us find him.”

“I’m really worried.” Mr. Davis swiped at his eyes. “He’s only seven and on the spectrum.”

“He has autism?” She blurted out her question before thinking, as memories slammed into her. 

“Yes, it’s not severe, but it does impact the way Sam interacts with people,” Mr. Davis said. “He doesn’t read social cues well, and can be too trusting.”

“In what way?” A vision of Brandon engaging cashiers, dog walkers, and anyone else who came to his attention zipped across her mind.

“If someone asked Sam to help him look for a lost puppy, he’d do it in a flash.” He rubbed his chin. “Even though we’ve discussed the dangers of going off with a stranger over and over again. Listen, I really need to go look for him.”

Chalissa shook her head as if the movement could clear her mind from thoughts of Brandon, but the pain was just as sharp as it had been sixteen years ago. But Brandon wasn’t here, and Sam needed her help. “Please bear with me. The more info I can gather, the quicker we can involve more people in looking for your son.”

Her words succeeded in stopping him from walking away but he balanced lightly on the balls of his feet, ready to leave in an instant. Better get on with her questions. “What was Sam wearing?”

“He had on jeans, sneakers, a long-sleeved blue t-shirt, and a bright orange fishing vest.”

She jotted down the description. “Hair, eye color, height?”

“His hair is a little lighter brown than mine,” Mr. Davis gestured to his head. “His eyes are brown and he wears glasses. They’re bright green, the kind that wrap all the way around the back of his head. And he’s about yay big.” He held out his hand to indicate close to three feet.

“Thank you, that’s very helpful. Where did you last see him?”

“It was down by the pier.” He pointed to the fishing pier. “We had set up to fish—see the blue camping chairs about midway down on the left side?”

“I see them.” She noted the location, then added the information to her notes. 

“Sam realized he’d dropped his favorite lure. He’d been holding it along with his pole as we walked from the car to the pier.” Mr. Davis drew in a breath. “We’re parked right there.” He nodded toward a late model, dark blue crossover SUV in a parking space a few feet away. “I didn’t see the need to walk with him.”

Chalissa visually measured the distance from the chairs to the SUV—about fifty feet. 

“He’s nearly eight, and we’ve been working on him doing things by himself because…”

“A boy needs his independence,” she finished the thought for him.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“But you watched him all the way to the car?” 

“Yes. I saw him pick up the lure—it was on the ground right by the back passenger-side door, where he must have dropped as he got out of the car.” 

Mr. Davis closed his eyes briefly, pain etched into the lines of his face. “Then I got a text. I only looked away for a few seconds.”

“From your wife?” As soon as the words left her mouth, Chalissa wanted them back. At least her voice had sounded brisk, professional, and not inquiring.

“No.” Mr. Davis looked away. “My wife, Sam’s mom, died when he was a baby.”

She winced for pouring more pain on an already painful situation. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.” He squared his shoulders. “I read the text, and when I looked up again, Sam wasn’t there.”

“You didn’t answer the text?” 

“It was spam.” His gaze locked with hers. “You don’t think it was sent on purpose to distract me from Sam? Let me show you.” He pulled out his phone and brought up the text. As she read the short message, he continued, “It was something about my credit card account, but my credit card company doesn’t communicate that sort of information by text.”

“Thanks.” The text had standard spam language, but given the timing, she noted the sender’s number just in case. “Where have you looked for your son?” 

“All around here.”

“Excuse me?” An older man wearing the brown uniform of a park employee approached them. “Are you the father with the missing boy?”

“Yes, I’m Titus Davis.”

“Nathan Wiltshire.” He turned toward Chalissa. “And you are?”

“Chalissa Manning, U.S. Marshal.” She shook his hand. “I left my official ID in my vehicle, but while running on the trail, I heard Mr. Davis calling for help.” She held up her phone. “I’ve taken down all the pertinent information about what happened, including a description of Sam, age seven. If you’ll give me your contact info, I’ll send it to you to disperse to the park employees.”

Mr. Wiltshire rattled off his phone number. “That will make things easier.”

“I have to look for Sam,” Mr. Davis said. “I can’t just stand around doing nothing.”

The park employee shook his head. “It’s best if you stay here, in case Sam comes back on his own.” He held up a hand as Mr. Davis opened his mouth. “I know how difficult a request that is. If it were my son, I’d want to be searching the grounds too. But it really is best if you leave the search to park workers and the police.”

“You’ve called the police?” Chalissa asked.

“Yes, as soon as I heard the boy was missing.” A shadow passed over Mr. Wiltshire’s face. “Another Northern Virginia park had a similar incident about five years ago and the Northern Virginia Park Authority management made the decision that any time a child was reported missing on park grounds, the police would be brought in immediately.”

Chalissa heard the sorrow behind the words and hoped Mr. Davis hadn’t picked up on the inflection. That incident probably hadn’t turned out well, but there was no need for Mr. Davis to start imagining anything darker than he already was.

The other man extended his hand to Mr. Davis, who shook it impatiently. “Hang tight. I’ll, keep you updated. I’m going to make sure everyone is looking for your son.” 

As the park employee walked away, Chalissa turned back to the father. “Is there anyone I can call for you?” 

“Call?” His eyes widened. “No, I’ll take care of it. Excuse me.”

She watched him move toward his vehicle, fear and concern slumping his shoulders. The knot in the pit of her stomach tightened even more. She could relate to how terrified Mr. Davis must be feeling, how helpless, particularly since his missing son had special needs. For a moment, the temptation to cry out to God to save Sam, to not let Brandon’s fate befall him, overwhelmed her. But personal experience had confirmed God didn’t answer her prayers.

# # #

Hanging onto his control by a wire as thin as the fishing line on his rod, Titus leaned his back against the rear bumper of his SUV. Tremors shook his hands and it took him three tries to select the right number to call. 

“Mac here.”

U.S. Marshal James “Mac” MacIntire’s familiar, crisp greeting nearly made Titus cry out in relief. “It’s Titus. Sam is missing.”

“What happened?”

Titus quickly recounted the events of the morning. “The park has started a search and called in the local police.”

“Could Sam be playing a game?” Mac’s question irritated Titus. 

His son knew better than to play a game like this, but he bit his tongue to prevent himself from taking out his fear on Mac. “I don’t think so. Sam usually follows the rules.”

“Did you and Sam run into anyone you know at the park?” 

“No.” Titus could hear the fear in his own voice. “With the trial coming up in a couple of weeks…” He let the thought trail off, knowing Mac would understand.

“You did the right thing in calling me.” 

“Mr. Davis?”

Titus raised his head and met the direct gaze of Chalissa Manning, a serious expression stamped on her face. “Hold a minute, Mac.” He put the phone down.

“The police have arrived.” She pointed over her shoulder to where a trio of officers made their way through the crowd toward him. “I’ll brief them while you finish your call.”

“Thanks.” Titus put the phone back to his ear as she moved toward the officers. “The police are here.”

“Good. Who was that you were talking to just now?”

“Chalissa Manning. A jogger on the path who heard me shouting for Sam. She offered to help. She said she was a U.S. Marshal, but she didn’t have any identification on her.” The tranquility and compassion in her eyes as she questioned him had done much to calm him during those first few moments of panic at the realization Sam was missing. 

“You didn’t say anything?” Mac’s question stung.

“Of course not,” Titus snapped. “I merely gave her the information necessary to find Sam.” He lowered his voice, his gaze seeking out Chalissa, where she stood talking to the police. “I certainly didn’t blurt out I’m in witness protection.”

“Good. We do have a new inspector who arrived last week from the St. Louis office, but I haven’t met him or her yet.” Mac cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, I’m four hours away in southwestern Virginia, but let me check with the office on the new inspector. If it is this Chalissa Manning, I’ll call and brief her, so she can take over as your point-of-contact during the search.”


“For now, follow protocol and don’t say a word to anyone about your being in WITSEC.”

“Got it.” Titus ended the call as Chalissa waved him over. As he walked toward the group of officers, the same prayer looped over and over in his mind. Please God, keep Sam safe. Don’t let him be hurt because of me.

About Sarah

Sarah Hamaker has been spinning stories since she was a child. While she’s had two traditionally published nonfiction books, her heart is writing romantic suspense. You can find a list of her books, listen to her podcast, “The Romantic Side of Suspense,” and connect with Sarah at

Wednesday’s Writer with Donn Taylor

Today I am honored to welcome Donn Taylor on my blog.

Some people listen to music when they write. Some people write outside, near a window, etc. What would you say is your most interesting writing quirk?

I’m not sure that I have one. If I do, it’s that I prefer to work in complete silence. However, I can work with a good bit of background noise by simply shutting it out and concentrating. But silence is best and easiest.

How long does it take you to write a book?

Wow! That has varied a good bit. My first novel, The Lazarus File, took about three years because I was learning the craft, and there were many blind alleys. Since then for an 80-90K book, it takes about a year unless other things intervene. My experience is that other things do intervene, so it probably stretches to two years.

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

In years past, Mildred and I enjoyed walking on nearby woodlands trails and watching classic movies we recorded off of TV. We also enjoyed traveling to writers’ conferences where I taught poetry writing. Sunday school and church dinners were part of our routine. More recently I’ve spent a lot of time reading—not just fiction, but a good bit of history. I try to read some classic poetry each week.

Where do you get your ideas for your books?

From experience (Army and college teaching) joined to research, though the way that these coalesce into viable ideas for fiction remains a mystery. Ambassador (and historian) Lewis interested me in the unholy alliance of Colombian guerrillas, drug lords, and Soviet subversion designed to distract US attention from NATO. That and my Army experience led to research that finally grew into a novel about spies and airplanes in the Caribbean (The Lazarus File). My years of teaching taught me the constant tensions in the college/university environment. So I asked myself, “What would happen if a professor actually said what the rest of the faculty was thinking and didn’t dare say?” A New York Times article on musical hallucinations gave me an idea for the hero’s distinctive quirk. The result was the Preston Barclay Mystery series, with a hero who lives with his own internal music score.

Is there a message in your book you hope readers will relate to?

Always yes, though it varies from book to book, and it is always embedded in the story instead of preached. In Deadly Additive, it was the futility of performing heroic deeds without a Christian context. In Lightning on a Quiet Night, it was the paradox that virtue pursued too far leads to the sin of pride. The Preston Barclay series explores the question of how closely God controls the tides of history and the waves of everyday life. But I repeat: In each novel, keeping an interesting story going remains the main focus.

What are your future projects?

I anticipate one more mystery in the Preston Barclay series. After that, possibly a suspense novel with hero and heroine trying to bring satisfying order to their lives in a disordered world. After that, if I’m still around, we’ll see what the Lord brings.

What kinds of research do you do for your books?

Originally, a lot of library research into foreign environments. (One photo of a house on a Colombian hill led to much of a novel’s landscape.) I still do a lot of that. Internet has been valuable in details like airport layout or verifying historical dates. I’ve sometimes verified legal matters with pro bono law firms. The main object of research is to make sure the overall plot is feasible. After that, it’s a matter of making sure the details are accurate. The paradox is that the “big lie” of fiction—the story that didn’t actually happen–becomes believable when all the small details are true.

Did you always want to be a writer?

I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t trying to create something. I began writing music at age 14. But at age 18 I got interested in poetry—the Romantics, of course—and began writing poetry and some very bad short stories. But Army service, graduate school, and teaching demanded different kinds of writing. After I retired from teaching English lit, I decided to see if I could write the kind of poetry I’d enjoyed teaching. That point proved, I wanted to find out if I could publish a novel. I did, so now I continue as a very small fish in a very large literary ocean.

Murder in Disguise

Official verdict: Suicide.

But why would that vigorous department chairman commit suicide? Did he kill himself to avoid disgrace from exposure of his rumored activities on the dark side? When visiting professor Preston Barclay (Press) questions his long-time friend’s suicide, he receives threats. He has enough problems already in proving his competence to students and faculty in the newly–hostile environment of the state university. For the new department chairman and campus radicals do all they can to undermine him. And the sexy female siren assigned as his student assistant creates problems there and with his courtship of Mara Thorn.

Press’s questions don’t find adequate answers, rumors accuse his friend of disgraceful activities, and Mara’s research reveals a wide range of criminal activity stretching from the community onto the campus itself. The more things don’t add up, the more dangerous the threats become, and the more determined Press becomes to clear his friend’s name and find the truth about the alleged suicide.

But can Press and Mara’s stumbling efforts prevail against the entrenched forces of the police, campus radicals, and an unseen criminal organization that increasingly puts their lives in danger…?

You can find Donn online at: