Talking Love With Paula Mowery

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We’re told in Scripture that God is love. He definitely proved His kind of love is an unconditional and undeserved type through sending His Son to die for our sins.

Some love isn’t hard to conjure. God just helps us to enhance it. For example, I am still head-over-heels in love with my husband of twenty-six years. But through God’s Word and leading, I’ve learned to love my husband more like God planned for a wife to love her husband.

When my little girl was born, I was in love, even though it took a lot to get her here. But God has shown me how to love my daughter through example and discipline.

I struggled with infertility issues before finally conceiving my only daughter. My bitterness heightened each time I would hear about a young woman or girl who conceived out of wedlock and by accident. I cried out to God that this wasn’t fair. I wanted a baby and would care for that child and love that child, giving her a mother and a father.

Some years later I was approached by the director of our church association’s Pregnancy Crisis Center to become their devotional leader. I struggled with my answer for a bit but knew God was pushing me to do this.

As I shared about the love of God and then listened to these girls tell their stories, I had to repent of my former bitterness. God taught me to love and care for these girls and their babies. They each had a story with hopes and dreams of their own.

Everyone deserves to know about the unconditional love God offers. This is what I hope readers see in the story, The Crux of Honor.

Since God is love, when we allow Him to teach us His kind of love, we can’t help but be richer and enrich others.



Check out Paula’s contribution to Prism Book Group’s new Love Is series…

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The Crux of Honor

“Love does not dishonor…” 1 Corinthians: 13:4

Chelsea Wilson’s life is a constant reminder of what living dishonorably looks like. At every turn she continues to prove her mother’s shunning must be deserved.

Dr. Kevin Alley returns to the old home place to establish his medical practice.

After running into Chelsea, he knows his love for her is still strong.
Chelsea is ousted from her small rented room when her mother bursts in, proclaiming Chelsea’s pregnancy.

Kevin takes Chelsea in, giving her space to live on the upper level of his house.

When Chelsea’s baby displays life-threatening symptoms, Chelsea must face her mother. Secrets unfold about Chelsea’s parents. Can Chelsea and Kevin uncover the secrets linked to Amish heritage in time to save the baby? Can the two find love together despite their history?

Barely Above Water

An illness comes out of nowhere and strikes Suzie Morris. Her boyfriend dumps her. She has no living family, and her physician can’t diagnose the malady.

Suzie relies on her Christian faith as she faces the uncertainty of the disease, and turns to a renowned alternative doctor in Destin, Florida. She takes a job coaching a county-sponsored summer swim team. She’s determined to turn the fun, sometimes comical, rag-tag bunch into winners.

Her handsome boss renews her belief in love, but learns of her mysterious affliction and abruptly cuts romantic ties. Later he has regrets, but can he overcome his fear of losing a loved one and regain Suzie’s trust?

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Copyright 2016 © Gail Pallotta


Suzie shivered at Carson Snotte’s words, not the March air with its hint of lingering winter.

“Under the circumstances, I don’t think we should see each other.” He threw their relationship to the wind whipping around the Bradford pear tree in her small, grassy yard. Everything spun out of control. Suzie struggled to stand upright on the cement drive in front of her brick condo.

An image of her and Carson entering Blue Mountain, North Carolina’s largest charity event as the King and Queen begged her to hold on to her destiny. The grandeur of his black and white tuxedo, the promise of being seen as the ideal couple, hovered over them as she had floated next to him in her long purple gown. “Don’t say that. I promise I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I’ll fix it.”

Carson’s thin lips snarled, ruining his fine features, his blue eyes staring at Suzie like pieces of stone. “You’ve made a mess of our lives. Who introduced you to drugs? Are you seeing some hood on the side?”

“No, I told you the doctor said I have a foreign substance in my system.” She didn’t add that the physician had said he couldn’t treat her because the labs couldn’t identify it. Carson was already upset.

He guffawed. “Right, can’t they figure out cocaine, or is it heroin?”

Suzie’s heart broke in a million pieces. “I’ve never taken illegal drugs in my life. I don’t even take prescription medicine, and no, I haven’t seen anyone but you in three years.”

Carson waved his long, thin hand then blew air from his mouth. “Seriously, our relationship has deteriorated beyond repair. I’m not sure if you’re actually hooked on something, or if you’re a hypochondriac. Let’s say hypochondriac, and we’ll both be lots happier.”

The fair-haired, athletic guy with broad shoulders pivoted and walked away. Suzie stood with tears rolling down her cheeks. Maybe he was right. There was nothing wrong with her. The ailment was all in her head. Why look even more foolish trying to find someone to cure a disease that didn’t exist? She plunked down on her front stoop and wiped her eyes. The azalea bush beside her blurred with her tears and morphed into an Impressionist painting.

See Dr. Granger. Was she losing it? See Dr. Granger. Who was Dr. Granger? She’d heard the name but couldn’t recall him. See Dr. Granger. You need to see Dr. Granger. The words persisted as though they resounded from a stuck CD player.

Day and night, the message repeated in her head for a week. She sat in the rocking chair with the gold flowered cushion in her bedroom when the revelation hit her like a bullet. She shot straight up. Dr. Granger was the chiropractor who treated Madelyn Demms, Mom’s friend, ten years ago. “What do I want with a chiropractor?” Oh, Madelyn saw him for an internal health issue, not a back problem, and he cured her. Madelyn had raved about him. She slapped her forehead then stood and called Madelyn.



A Taste of Tragedy

Morgan Hunter sacrificed everything for her career. She had yet to encounter anything she wasn’t willing to do to succeed…until now. When she uncovers evidence that the healthy foods she’s been hired to promote may be dangerous, she must reevaluate her priorities. As questions mount and the body count rises, she finds herself caught in the cross-hairs of an organization that will stop at nothing to hide its secrets and protect its profits. With no one else to trust, Morgan is forced to seek help from the man she drove away, but whom she never stopped loving…

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Copyright 2016 © Kim McMahill

 “I really appreciate the thorough cleaning job you did prior to my arrival, but I was wondering what happened to Mr. Jacobson’s files. It would really help to familiarize me with the position, and I always hate reinventing the wheel, so to speak. If he implemented a strategy that wasn’t successful, I most certainly don’t want to attempt the same failed practice or program.”

“Mr. Hoyle ordered me to shred everything, get you a new computer, and make sure you had a clean slate to work with. He wanted you to feel free to run operations your way and not be concerned about the way things used to be handled. As you know, the Healthy and Delicious Foods division hasn’t been performing to Mr. Hoyle’s high expectation for the past quarter, so Mr. Hoyle wants a fresh approach.”

Morgan studied Aaron for a moment. He seemed so certain of his rationale, and he clearly followed directions without question. Despite never having walked into a new office without a single scrap of paper from the previous occupant, she decided to drop the subject for now.

“Very well, then. Enjoy your weekend.”

“You too,” Aaron replied as he turned and strode out of the office.

Morgan sank into her chair. She was exhausted. Getting her feet on the ground had proven to be a daunting task. Every night, she poured over spreadsheets until nearly midnight, preventing her from unpacking all the moving boxes stacked in her new duplex apartment.

She spent a good portion of each morning in the factory, watching the production process and picking the brain of her production manager, Wiley Hartman. She enjoyed the manufacturing process, but unfortunately, afternoons were consumed with various staff and board meetings.

Wiley seemed competent and very knowledgeable about the company, having worked his way up through canned, frozen, and snack foods before taking over as the production manager for the Healthy and Delicious Foods division processing facility three years ago. She had taken an instant liking to the man, and decided that if anyone might turn out to be an ally here, it would be him.

Jiggling the mouse, Morgan brought her sleeping computer screen to life. A quick check of her e-mail verified there was nothing new that couldn’t wait until Monday. She opened her calendar for the next week and nearly groaned. Her second week on the job, and she had the Food Safety and Inspection Services (FSIS) coming in for routine inspections, and a meeting with the sales and marketing team. On top of that, her new boss and president of the company, Preston Hoyle, wanted a report by week’s end on her observations and initial plan of attack for increasing profits and returning the line to its highest level of sales.

“You’re here late.”

Speak of the devil. Morgan looked up at Preston and smiled. “I’m just wrapping up a few things and wanted to take one last peek at next week’s schedule to make sure Aaron didn’t add anything new since the last time I checked.”

“He’ll definitely keep you organized, and don’t hesitate to utilize his skills. He’s a sharp young man.”

Morgan stood, feeling small and somewhat intimidated by the tall, handsome man towering over her. Even with heels on, she couldn’t quite look him in his pale blue eyes and had to tilt her chin up. He was closer than she had realized, invading her personal space. His gaze seemed fixed on her lips, so she took a quick step back and reached for Aaron’s resume to insert some distance without seeming too obvious.

“I gathered that from his resume, and I can’t help but wonder how long I’ll have him with his education and experience. He seems a bit overqualified for the job.”

“Don’t worry about Aaron. He isn’t going anywhere, but you should. It’s Friday night. You’re new on the job and new in town, and you’ve put in more hours than I expect, especially during your first week. I feel a little guilty about the lack of assistance with your transition, but hopefully, Aaron has ensured you have everything you need. If my in-laws weren’t in town, I’d love to take you to dinner and show you what our fine city has to offer.”

The only way Morgan could describe the smile that followed his last statement was “lecherous,” and warning bells resounded in her head.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Hoyle, but it has been a long week, and as soon as I can close up here, I’m heading up to Sedona to our family vacation home. I plan to relax with a glass of wine and one of the Healthy and Delicious Foods entrees I haven’t tried yet before I tackle a year’s worth of dust and cobwebs tomorrow.”

“Now that’s dedication, but don’t get too carried away with these products. Your figure is just fine the way it is,” he said, letting his eyes linger too long on her breasts. “And please, call me Preston. I’m sure we’ll be working very closely together, including plenty of late nights, so no need to be so formal.”

Morgan didn’t know how to respond to his last comment so returned her focus to an innocuous topic. “According to the promotional material supplied by the advertising team, the Healthy and Delicious Foods line isn’t just for weight loss. I must admit, I’m very impressed with the data on GCF’s revolutionary natural sweetener, MFHG3, derived primarily from the monk fruit and hoodia gordonii. Not only does it sweeten foods, but the steroidal glycosides found in the Hoodia plant are reported to curb the appetite. It sounds almost too good to be true.”

“Yes, MFHG3 took this company from a small local manufacturer to a national powerhouse, catering to the thin-obsessed and health-crazed society. MFHG3 has changed the playing field and has all the other companies scrambling to catch up, but enough shoptalk. You need to get out of here, and if I miss my dinner reservation, my mother-in-law will yap about it all weekend. I would like to hear more about this place in Sedona soon. Sounds like a perfect weekend getaway from the heat, the city, and the stress of the job. Maybe you’ll even give me a tour one of these days.”

Not in this lifetime. She bit her lip and didn’t respond.

The smile he flashed at Morgan as he departed her office made her shudder. He seemed perfectly professional during the interview process. She hadn’t been alone with him in the same room all week, but this brief exchange warned her to avoid one-on-one time with her boss as much as possible, especially after hours in an empty and dark building.

Morgan dropped into her desk chair, powered down her computer, and stowed the lightweight laptop in her briefcase along with several files she had procured from accounting. Grasping the knob on the lower side drawer of her desk to retrieve her purse, she was reminded of one more thing she had forgotten to do this week.

She had intended to have Aaron submit a work order to have someone fix the drawer. Since it didn’t completely close, she wasn’t able to lock up her purse when she was down in the ground floor factory—not that anyone could get into her office with the tenacious Aaron sitting just outside her door. Mostly, it was simply annoying. The drawer shut enough that she didn’t catch a shin, so she forgot about it until she was stowing or retrieving her purse.

“I can’t believe this little gap is bugging me so much. I must be turning into my ex,” Morgan huffed as she sat down on the floor and scooted under her desk with the small flashlight from her key chain, hoping her boss didn’t return and catch her with her skirt hiked up.

She ran her fingers along the track and felt something at the very back. Wriggling even further under the desk, she shined the small light in the area where she detected the obstruction. The item was affixed with tape, but it took little effort to pry it free.

Crawling back out into the light, Morgan examined the small item. No larger than a paperclip, its identity was clear. She held a tiny flash drive between her fingers.

Hmm, curious place to keep data. She pondered the matter while looking closely at her find. “Wish I wouldn’t have already powered down my computer,” Morgan muttered as she dropped the small device into her purse, flipped off the lights, and headed for the elevator.

Everything About You

She needs a movie set miracle, he needs cash…can a farmer morph into a movie star in five days?

If Shelly has her way, Danny will become America’s next heartthrob and she’ll get her own promotions company. He’s already gorgeous, a little naive, and needs to work on that accent. To Danny, Shelly is on the pompous side, but holds the key to his real dreams…if he can figure out all the rules, say the right things for the daily vlog session, keep his heart strings in place, dodge Shelly’s vicious former boyfriend and the movie star diva.

Shelly’s about to lose a lot more than her heart if she can’t get a handle on her wounded pride and learn who to trust.


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Copyright 2016 © Lisa J Lickel


The man grasped her gold pen and studied it like he’d never seen a writing instrument before. Shelly Colter hoped Pettibone’s quirk choice for a replacement in the romantic lead knew how to use it. If only he wasn’t so rugged, so handsome. Or could be… Waving her hand in front of her face to dispel the disagreeable farm odor wafting from his dusty navy blue t-shirt and jeans, she pointed again at the line on the contract. Springtime in the country. Wisconsin. At least it was a nice day, plenty warm enough outside for short sleeves and pure sunshine. “Right here, Winston. Sign your name. Mr. Pettibone, the company owner, has already signed, and I’ll be your witness. Filming is behind schedule, and we have a lot of work to do.” She wanted to add the tired cliché “time is money,” but she doubted he’d hear.

Sounds from the contemporary western movie set around them, the best boy calling for more extension cords, a pow-wow among the writers and Jordan the director, created a familiar, exciting cacophony. Harry from costuming waited anxiously in her shadow, fiddling with the measuring tape around his neck and shifting from foot to foot. Winston was a different build from the recently fired celebrity. Harry had spent weeks creating and fitting a wardrobe on that loser, Seth Taylor. Shelly’s publicity campaign now needed to be redrawn too, so Harry was by far not the only person to lose work.

Food service set up a coffee buffet under a spreading oak in young leaf on this June day. Shelly was hungry, but nerves made her choke at the thought of anything but coffee. Winston Daniels, the man she was supposed to turn into a heartthrob in less than a week, seemed distracted by everything and kept looking up at every clash of equipment or prop placement.

So much pressure—could Shelly do it? She was good at her work. Pettibone trusted her.

“C’mon, Danny.” Jen, Winston’s sister, stood next to him, trying to encourage him.

“Time is of the essence, Winston,” Shelly said in her steel-coated tone. Pettibone had given her five days, including this one, to whip a country hick into the next mega-movie-star sensation, and she couldn’t afford to waste a second.

“You sure?” Winston whispered to his sister, a small thing who’d struggled to get baby fat off in time for her role as the best friend of the female lead. It was quite a coup for Jen, since she’d only had walk-ons and a couple of commercials under her belt.

Jen whispered, “It’ll pay for the…”

Shelly tapped her foot. “Are you in? Because there are plenty of other actors who would jump at this role.” There weren’t really. Pettibone had run Seth Taylor off the set early this morning when he’d shown up too high—again—to even remember what role he was playing. Filming was in disarray, and costs were rising. Pettibone was determined to make the Academy Award cut-offs this year, and if Shelly couldn’t bootjack this new guy to fit the bill of a swoon-worthy romantic rancher, it would be a long, lonely path to owning her own publicity company. Or getting another job in public relations. Anywhere. She wanted to hurry—if only Winston would cooperate. A little faster.

As soon as Winston dotted the “i,” she snatched the paper contract and shouted at Pettibone’s assistant. She waved for Harry to start taking measurements for size and fit. Winston was bigger than Seth. The new wardrobe meant more costs, but that wasn’t her concern.

“We can talk while you’re being fitted,” she said. “Fred, get that camera out of here. Not now. I’ll tell you when we’re ready. You’ll just make him nervous.”

“Pettibone says I’m to film it all. We’ll use the footage for publicity later.”

“That’s my job as publicity director to decide what to use for promotion. Everyone understands that.”

“We do. Don’t get twisted up about it.”

Before she could get into a really good rant, Winston tucked his elbows against his side and turned pale. “E-everything? But I don’t know what to say. I haven’t even read any lines.”

Harry frowned and lifted Winston’s arms straight out from his sides again.

“And you are all supposed to do the vlogs. At least once a day,” Fred muttered. “Even you, Shell. Probably all the time for him.”

“What’s that?” Winston.

“Video logs, like a spoken diary.” Shelly set her hands on her hips and walked around Fred, circling Winston, thinking about what she’d say in her vlog and what she’d have to tell Winston to say. “I’ll explain it later—no time now. Harry, how much more?”

“Getting there.” He clicked a few keys on his tablet. “Nice shoulders. Good hips. Long legs will help with the action shots. Six-one? You work out?”

“Uh, sorta.”

Shelly winced at Winston’s pronunciation. “First thing…well, second…no, third thing we must do is work on your voice. I think we’ll call in Roma. Jen, what are you doing here? Don’t you have to be somewhere else? As if there aren’t enough distractions. Winston, listen up! Harry, line up wardrobe from the third date scene, you got it? The one where they’re at the—”

“I’m on it!” Harry trotted away.

Shelly reached up an uncomfortable distance—he was taller than she’d thought—to take Winston’s jaw and turn his face left and right. “Face straight ahead, please.” What angle would capture those delicious grooves alongside his mouth? Thank goodness his ears were normal. “Smile. Wider. Show me teeth. Are you listening?”

The future megastar took a step back, stuck his thumbs in his belt loops, and looked down at her five-foot-two height. “First of all, I didn’t quite catch your name. Secondly, I don’t know what’s going on, and third, don’t I need a script to study, or something?”

“Shelly Colter, company promotions manager. My job is to make sure you are turned into the public face of this film. You are a complete unknown, and why Pettibone insisted on stuffing not only an unknown but a completely untried actor on his film I have no idea, but I will make it work. Fortunately for you, stepping into a Seth Taylor role will jumpstart the publicity, but I must insist it stay positive. Are you a drug or alcohol user? Involved in a messy divorce or break-up?”

He shook his head.

“Anything else I should know about that could negatively affect this publicity campaign?”

“Just what you see. I’ve never acted before. Except in a play once, uh, in school.”

Shelly smiled. “Well, this movie is a lot of action, so I think you’ll be all right. You already do…farm work, I believe?”

At his nod, she let her smile slide into a smirk. “Since you’ll be portraying a rancher, you’re partway there.” She studied him up and down again. “Hair next. Then a preliminary photo shoot. Margo, the production assistant, can explain how we do things on set, what’s expected of you in your role, and the AD…” At his blank look, she amended, “Assistant director can teach you blocking. When Roma gets here, she can help you with proper pronunciation. We’ll have your teeth bleached.” Shelly narrowed her eyes. “Winston Daniels will become the next new Hollywood buzz boy and a household name by Thanksgiving. The picture is expected to release at Christmas. Come.”

By the time she’d taken five steps, she realized Winston was not behind her. “Winston?”

He stood there, brooding, feet shoulder-width. Shelly might have been interested in him, tried to flirt with this handsome hunk of guy, if she wasn’t in such a rush and he wasn’t so…aromatic. “What?”

“You seem to have some mighty case of pride, there, Miss? Missus? Colter. You might find people a mite more willin’ to work with ya if you didn’t treat them worse than I treat my cows.”

Talking Love With Lisa J. Lickel

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From the time boys became more than “tag” targets I was never without someone of the opposite sex to hang out with, call on the phone, escort me to dances or movies, even when Mom was the chauffeur. I was a drama queen flirt, histrionic friend, and disingenuous church group groupie. I’d love to say it changed in an instant when as a middle teen the Holy Spirit provided the answer to that infinite question of whether Christ was for real. Decades later, I am still working out who I am on many levels. That story won’t get the final edit until it’s over.


In between, I went to college and joined not one, but two Christian groups, fell in love with the music, studying anything and everything, and the boy with the wispy blond mustache and highwater pants from one of the faith groups who prayed with me for John Denver’s soul. Seriously. We won’t know for a while if poor John received the benefit of our intervention. When the mustached boy didn’t run screaming after meeting my family for the first time when we got snowed in and ate turkey three days in a row, and his dad laughed in good humor when I dropped and broke dishes on the way from the table to the sink the first time I met his folks, I knew things would work out fine.


Two grown up children and an odd assortment of grands—girls, boys, and kitties—later, life is full circle as our oldest son heeded the call to seminary and now serves as area director for the many branches of the campus faith organization his dad and I attended. Son number two followed in his father’s footsteps, attempting to encourage a better world through public education. “Love is not proud” is not an easy description to avoid when it comes to introducing family.


Love has shown me all the attention I need has always surrounded me, filled me, poured out of me in ways I don’t have to control or manipulate, or understand. The Lord of life is in charge. My job is to leave behind a story that boasts only of God’s great mercy and grace exemplified in what He has done for me.


Check out Lisa’s contribution to Prism Book Group’s new Love Is series…


Everything About You

“Love is not proud…” 1 Corinthians: 13:4

She needs a movie set miracle, he needs cash…can a farmer morph into a movie star in five days?

If Shelly has her way, Danny will become America’s next heartthrob and she’ll get her own promotions company. He’s already gorgeous, a little naive, and needs to work on that accent. To Danny, Shelly is on the pompous side, but holds the key to his real dreams…if he can figure out all the rules, say the right things for the daily vlog session, keep his heart strings in place, dodge Shelly’s vicious former boyfriend and the movie star diva.

Shelly’s about to lose a lot more than her heart if she can’t get a handle on her wounded pride and learn who to trust.

Free Today! Greener Grasses by Julie B Cosgrove

Download the 3rd book in Prism’s Love Is series FREE today!
Twin sisters, Erin and Ellen, covet each other’s lives and husbands. Their festered envy has not only kept them at arm’s length for almost two decades, it has placed both on a precipice of divorce— something they’d never admit to each other.
Yet after two weeks together with their spouses, as they sort through their mother’s belongings following her funeral, they discover the flaws in their sibling’s “grass-greener” lives. But will that revelation help each sister appreciate her own husband and lifestyle as truly according to God’s plan? Or is it too late for a change of heart?
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FREE today! Snag the second in Prism’s Love Is series and it’ll cost you $0!
What are readers saying?
“What an admirable, well-drawn heroine Georgia is! All she needs is a little cooperation from Alan to make things turn out right. So many stories that begin like this one end in heartbreak. However, author Gay Lewis doesn’t follow the predictable course – instead she weaves a realistic tale, dealing with a true-to-life issue in a realistic way. I really enjoyed this sweet story. It’s definitely worth reading.” Amazon Reviewer Carlene
“Gay Lewis is my favorite author. I love all her books that are well written and easy to read. As I read this book, I feel so bad for Georgia whenever her husband criticized her in such a cruel way. But Georgia did not give up. She responds using her kindness. Her efforts paid off. It’s very fun to read through all the details. I will recommend this book to my friends.” Amazon Reviewer KWU
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Magnolia Lake

Cora Stephens is a typical high school senior, loving life in the small town of Davis, Georgia. Everything changes, though, one rainy afternoon when her world comes crashing down around her at the hands of betrayal. Then, just as she’s beginning to pick up the pieces, something unimaginable happens, and she’s forced to learn how to rely on faith, family and friends to regain her happiness.


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Copyright 2016 Emily Paige Skeen


He grabbed my waist and crushed my body against his. Then his lips met mine with breath-taking force, only pulling away long enough to answer my question. “It was fine. Doin’ much better now that you’re in my arms, baby.” He kissed me again in a way much too private for the cinder block walls of our small high school.

I caught my breath as I pushed him away and playfully swatted his arm. “Now, Jeff, you know better than that! Principal Long’ll be out here in no time, pourin’ cold water on us!”

He winked at me and leaned in for one last kiss. He was much gentler this time, brushing his lips softly against mine. “Sorry, babe. You know I can’t resist.”

Just then someone bumped into him, nearly knocking me down. “What the—”

“Yo, Colton!” Christopher Johnson, one of Jeff’s teammates, interrupted me and rammed me against my boyfriend again. “What’s up, man?”

“Hey, man!” He turned to Christopher, who was oblivious to my presence. “Whatchya been up to? Where’s your first period?”

“I’m headed to English on the 300 hall. How ’bout you?”

“Calculus, dude. Sucks.”

I cleared my throat. “Um, Jeff, don’t you think we should get to class? Don’t wanna be late on the first day,” I said impatiently. Out of all Jeff’s friends, Christopher bothered me the most. He was cocky and egotistical. He had a habit of sleeping with girls, dumping them, and then bragging about it to all his friends.

“Well, howdy, Miss Stephens.” He grinned. “Didn’t even see you there.”

“’Course you didn’t,” I mumbled. “Can we go now, please?” I asked, tapping my high-heeled shoe impatiently. The carpeted floor muffled the sound, but the expression on my face was not hard to read.

“Yeah, babe, I’m comin’. Later, Johnson.” Jeff turned away from Christopher and grabbed my hand. Once we were out of Christopher’s hearing range, Jeff demanded, “What’s your problem?”

I came to an abrupt stop and put my free hand on my hip. “Oh, nothin’. Just that every time that guy comes around, you forget I even exist.”

“You’re gonna have to get over that. Chris is my buddy. We play football together. You oughta start bein’ nice to him. Now, let’s go.” He yanked on my hand and pulled me forward. I didn’t like the way he was acting. This was definitely not his most charming moment.

We walked the rest of the way to class in silence. I was pouting and Jeff was being stubborn. We barely said three words to each other during the next few hours, until it was finally time for lunch.

I decided to be the mature one and give in, as usual. “Sweetie, where are we gonna sit this year?” I asked, glancing around the crowded cafeteria.

Jeff’s expression was smug. He knew he’d won. “Chris is holdin’ a table for us.”

I rolled my eyes. Was he seriously suggesting that I sit with Christopher every time I ate lunch for the next nine months?

He made a half-hearted attempt to pacify me. “Don’t worry, baby, there’s plenty of room for your friends too.” He grinned down at me, knowing I wouldn’t argue.




Born and raised in a small Georgia town, Emily Paige Skeen takes from her own life experiences to create real, relatable characters for her novels. She loves to intertwine small-town charm with deep emotion and intrigue, creating stories that inspire readers.

When she’s not writing or chasing after her two youngsters—both under the age of five—you can find Emily reading, soaking up the sun whenever possible, or shopping. She, her husband, and their kids make their home in a tiny little town an hour south of Atlanta, on a five-acre plot of land right off a bumpy red-dirt road. She loves to sit and listen as the ever-present crickets and frogs perform their harmonious concerts in the still, quiet evening hours.

Writing has always been Emily’s passion, ever since she crafted her first sloppily hand-written story plastered over spiral notebook paper at the emotionally-charged age of thirteen. Now, she strives to encourage and inspire girls and young women with her writing. She believes that with a little bit of faith and a whole lot of love, anything’s possible.

Sarah and a Date for Mackenzie OUT NOW!

Merciful heavens! Getting acquainted with adult teachers in a high school is one challenge, but hang with the kids too? Sarah, heaven’s little love angel who is known for bungles, has dealt with children and enjoyed them, but teenagers? My stars! They are a different ballgame. She doesn’t understand their jargon, clothes or hairdos. And mood swings? Forget it. She knew nothing about them—nada —zippo. She’d seen and heard them from above—even wondered at times why they existed on the same planet as adults. They were unique and interesting, but to mingle with them? Not a chance would she choose to do so—well, not until her latest assignment. Why would the Superiors send a bumbling angel like her to help a shy teenager find a date for a high school prom? Poopty doopty! A nightmare is about to happen.


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Copyright 2016 Gay N Lewis

Sarah paced on her cloud while she waited for the sun to set. At least she hadn’t been sent back to the Houston area during the scorching summer. Temperatures for south Texas in late March meant warm weather, but at least this season didn’t remind her of Hades.

Early spring brought a myriad of budding shrubs, and hiding behind one at night should be no problem—unless a dog found her. Remembering an attack from a canine brought shivers to her spine. While on a mission to help Beth Marsh, a widow, find a male companion, she’d pretended to live in a house she’d assumed was vacant. Unfortunately, the home she chose had a huge Rottweiler as a protecting resident. Sarah had vanished just as the animal snatched a bite of her ankle. Oh horrors…the memories!

As the sun disappeared, she set about making plans. In The Heavenlies, Sarah had no need for time clocks. Time didn’t exist there, but based on the moon’s position, she supposed it about ten o’clock in this realm. Slipping into a residential area, she appeared as a young man. She chose jeans, a sleeveless black t-shirt, and covered her bare arms with tattoos. She then called forth a guitar. If anyone asked, she’d be a rocker looking for a concert venue.

Good! No one saw her as she left the bushes and set her destination to a nearby convenience store. She’d discovered, on other missions, a few helpful people in those stores who could tell her how to locate addresses.

She strutted in, carrying the guitar, and approached the male teenager at the counter. “Evening. I’m lost. Got a gig over on Cali Street in Katy. Can you give me directions?”

“Sure. You aren’t far.”

Imagine that. She’d been close to Katy all along—a first for her—well, that should save time.

“Go down this street two blocks.” The teen pointed with a thin finger. “Turn left and drive four more streets. When you come to a house with a red mailbox, take a left on that corner and go another street or two. You’ll come to it.”

Sarah widened her eyes. Good grief! How would she remember all that? He’d given no names of locations, just numbers and gestures. He was almost as bad as she was with such things. “Uh…sorry…not sure I copied all that. Could you write it down?”

The guy grabbed a pad and drew a stick map. “Here you go. What group are you with?”

Sarah coughed. Group? Did he mean band? Wonderful—just great. God didn’t like the truth stretched. What to say? “I’m a loner musician. Just show up. Carry my guitar with me just in case I’m asked to play and sing.” The loner and musician part happened to be true, the other stuff questionable, but she needed to act out the subterfuge.

“I try a little guitar myself. Maybe you could give me a lesson. Would you play something before you go?”

Oh, boy! Just what she needed. Why did she show up with this instrument? She played a harp—for goodness sakes—not a guitar. And sing rock? No way. What to do now?

“Uh…no, don’t think so.”

“Aw, come on. I gave you directions. Let me hear you on that guitar. I’m stuck in here working and can’t go anywhere. Just one song.”

Sarah strapped the guitar to her body, bounced up and down as she listened to the beat of a silent drum and then let out a loud, strident howl. Wahagababa! The wail sounded similar to a wolf caterwauling with his paw caught in a trap. After the vocal introduction, she placed hands on the guitar and proceeded to strum the instrument to complete the effect. Wang! Twang! Plunk! Two strings popped loose. “Sorry. Need to fix that. Thanks for the map.” Turning, she ambled away.

“I hope no one is paying big bucks to hear that dude sing.” The clerk’s muttered words reached Sarah’s ears as she opened the door.