Just a little fun change of pace here. Look at these great rides!
Father, thank you for all types of fun creativity. Apart from you, we can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
-
White Water is Book 6 of the Rachel Hatch Series by L. T. Ryan and Brian Shea.
Rachel Hatch is a unique heroine, former military until she was injured, daughter of an operative who tried to separate himself from that business and started training his daughter at an early age to defend herself and prepare for the worst of things. He was murdered when she was 12 years old, and she made it her quest through the years to discover who and why it was done. When she did find out, her life and those of her remaining family were threatened which required her to take extreme measures.
Part of those extreme measures caused her name change and a parting from the man with whom she thought she was falling in love. It tore her up, and remains a battle to stay away from him and her family now consisting of her mom and her deceased sister's two children.
In the previous book, Rachel made it her mission to return a kidnapped daughter to her mother amidst the horrors of sex trafficking. One of the girls in the bunch slated for those horrors Rachel (now Daphne Nighthawk) couldn't rescue so she's made it her new mission to find where they've taken her in Mexico and bring her back home.
When an older man reveals his intentions to rescue these captured young people, he joins Rachel in her efforts to find the young woman. His connections greatly assist in their purpose, but the vile powers that run this operation inflict major trauma on Rachel and her associate with others dying at their wicked hands.
The incredilbe ending brings a tragic story to a possible worthy conclusion for the man who assisted Rachel in her rescue.
White Water intensifies as the novel progresses and doesn't pull any punches as to the absolute horrors of sex-trafficking. It's a satanic business run by truly evil people, and Ryan and Shea bring its picture into sadistic focus. Rachel Hatch is an amazing heroine and sometimes it hurts to read her far-reaching pain.
I must say, as a Christian, it saddens me that this hard-fighting woman pursuing goodness and justice can't quite reach out to God even in her most dire circumstances. That leaves one part of the story "empty" and brings a solemnity even in victory.
Some profanity.
Father, only you know hearts. Only you can reach those hearts. Bless these two authors with the knowledge of yourself. Thank you, Lord. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
-
For He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.
Colossians 1:13-14 (NIV)
-
Five questions for you:
What are five of your favorite colors in order of preference?
Have you ever shot a gun?
Have you ever been fishing from a boat?
What are five of your favorite songs?
Do you ever wear boots, sandals, high heels, and/or tennis shoes/sneakers?
Looking forward to your answers.
Father, we need all that you have for us. Help us to be the ones you designed us to be. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
-
First one to write and post a review of . . . in a love song on any social media site, blog, Amazon, etc., will receive a gift of one of my other novels of their choice. Both Sweet Release and Destination are only available for ereaders. Breath of Life is only available in print as is Hope of Glory. The remaining three: The Famous One, Race, and Seeing . . . are available in print or for ereaders.
That's it.
Father, only you bring good and perfect gifts. Thank you for every one of them. And thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
-
Of course you did . . . know. Readers make writers' lives "successful". Books are "made" by readers driving their favorite stories' rise to popularity from the accolades paid to them by – you guessed it – readers.
The more readers acknowledge a book that gave them something more than just an okay feeling, the more a book climbs up that tottering ladder of popularity. Among millions of novels only a small percentage get noticed.
Let's face it: there have been some gargantuan bestsellers that from a writing standpoint were less than stellar. But something about those particular stories hit a chord that played out in literally millions of purchases. Who knew that vampires to sexual bondage stories would ring that bell in the minds of enough readers to sell crazy amounts of books worldwide and result in more than one movie each?
What that proves is there are a massive amount of readers out there waiting to devour stories, and some of those stories certainly don't suit a great number of other readers. What it doesn't address is there are some very good novels that never get noticed, never sell many copies, and/or get only a few reviews.
So: Readers, do your part to rave on about the good stories you've read. Tell friends, write reviews – a couple of sentences is all it takes – anywhere you can, and give them as gifts. If you don't care for a story you read, that's okay. Not every novel will be a favorite or even one that you can like. But know this: the author of your favorite stories needs to know how much you loved their work.
Good reading to you!
Father, thank you for your writers/authors. Every good and perfect gift comes down from you. Thank you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
-
Ah, The Lovin' Spooful with one of their most popular hits. Fun songs. Back in the day . . .
Father, thank you for music. All good and perfect gifts come from you. Thank you for it all. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
-
Almost everything of any value takes determination to achieve. Some people need goals to goad them on to whatever the next step is to gain what they want. Men seem to need a daily plan for their days and I'm relatively sure that isn't particular to men where challenging careers are involved.
Now "value" is an interesting word. Value is what's important to you as an individual or to the group where you are hoping to work together toward a specific important result. Something precious to you has value. Something you really want has value.
Most of us recognize determination in those who battle through struggles even when it looks or feels futile. Determination infers strength and strength looks differently on each one who wears or uses it. Determination can easily incur frustration and anger, and/or persistence and perseverance. With the attitude of "whatever it takes" determination shines.
Determination can mean even when things look bleak, effort presses on.
Determination continues even when that goal or dream doesn't appear to be possible. It then becomes the purpose of continuing to do what you believe you need to do. You might have to replace the goal or dream with something more plausible and less grandiose but you'll still have to work to attain it. That's where determination can become a worthwhile matter of personal character.
What does determination mean in your life?
Father, you created us. You gave each one different strengths. When we surrender to you, you give us the power of the Holy Spirit. We have what we need to do what you designed for us. Help us to be faithful in our endeavors. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
-
God is our refuge and strength,
an ever present help in trouble.
Psalm 46:1 (NIV)
-
From my solo mystery Race:
(From Chapter 32)
Next, Mark gave us each copies of the contents in Roman’s file box. Mark told us Roman’s cell phone had been locked inside it, apparently not used much according to the technician’s report, most of his recent calls to his parents’ number in Idaho and a couple to the chaplain’s.
“The guy was smart. He even had a notarized will. Left everything to his parents. Strange if he thought he’d outlive them. Had a decent bank account, a credit card with no outstanding charges. Receipts from all paid purchases. Highly organized. And these. Three more items of significance, pertaining to his character.” Mark distributed additional photographs, copies of an envelope with Danny’s name on it in all caps and a letter comprised the first of the new pile.
We each separated the two copies and set the rest of them aside without looking at them.
“Danny,
I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on with me and your girl. So let me set the record straight. Nothing. Yeah, she’s gorgeous, but we both know she’s not like the other women we’ve shared at different times. She’s special, and I’m telling you man to man you better get with the program and stop drinking or you’re going to lose her. And I’ll be honest with you too, my friend. If you drop the ball, I’m going to be there to pick it up. I’ve never known love, but she could point me in that direction for sure.
Danny, I’d never hurt you. We’ve been friends for our lifetime on these crazy racetracks. So I’ll get out of your way with Ronnie, but I’m letting you know she’s fed up with your drinking and if she’s not more important than the bottle to you, you’re flat crazy.
One last thing. I’ve met Jesus Christ. Best thing that ever happened to me. I know this much. He won’t let you down. Think about it, my friend.
Later, Roman.”
Before I allowed my swelling emotions to get the best of me I picked up the next pile of copies. Several poses of the same item: a gift box with a necklace in it. Delicate gold chain with a teardrop diamond pendant. Next he gave us the pictures of the card that was tucked into a jewelry bag with the necklace. Again the envelope had “Ronnie” printed across it in all caps. The card itself showed a striking sunset with the silhouette of a horse against it. Inside were Roman’s words to Ronnie.
“I’ve lived my life all wrong. You’re one of the few things that’s right in my life. You belong to Danny. Do for him what you’ve done for me. Thank you, Ronnie. Roman”
Normally I’m not sentimental—or romantic. This immediately choked me up, and I had to excuse myself, knowing the guys would wonder at my emotionalism of late. Oh well. I had no choice.
When I got to the restroom, I went into a stall and took out my handkerchief and put it up to my eyes. And lost it. I never realized how hard it was to keep quiet when you’re near convulsing with sorrow. When Sheila left, I drowned my sorrows in drink and only occasionally let the tears come. At home. Alone. Just let them fall or drain down my face. And drank some more. But now I had no alcohol to subdue the pain, and for whatever reason the loss of this young man crushed my spirit. My gut ached from trying to hold back noisy sobs. My face and handkerchief were soaked. I had to pull handfuls of toilet paper from the roll to keep my nose subdued and before too long I’d almost filled the toilet bowl with wads of snotty tissue.
“Breathe, damn it!” I shouted inside my head. And then swore because I swore.
“David?”
Jesse’s voice. And I knew he came because he cared, but I didn’t want him to be here. “Yeah? What’re you doin’ followin’ me to the little boy’s room?” I tried hard to sound in control, but he knew me too well.
“Look, I’m sorry. I just wanted to tell you I’m here for you. If you ever need me, I’m here. Okay?”
I wanted so desperately to speak. To say something intelligent, thoughtful, grateful, funny even, but I knew if I tried, I’d blubber, and it would be humiliating. More than it already was. But I had to answer him. Had to say something, anything. And it pained me that all I could muster was, “Thanks.”
Thank you, Lord. I say it every day: Apart from you, I can do nothing. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
