Into the Fire

One of Donovan's greatest hits. I loved this one. 

Father, you're all that matters. You are Love. Apart from you, we only get a brief glimpse of what real love is – and we're simply not capable of it in these sin-stained bodies. Thank you is never enough for your rescue. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Reading Jack Carr's Red Sky Mourning and will have a review up by next week.

So looking forward to Don Bentley's new entry to the Mitch Rapp Saga in September: Capture or Kill.

In between those Brad Thor will have a new release in August Shadow of Doubt. 

What novels are you looking forward to reading? 

Father, thank you for the gift of writing. Please bless those who manage to tell the truth in their fiction and those who decide to honor you in their writing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

     Jesus said to them, "If God were your Father, you would love me, for I came from God and now am here. I have not come on my own, but He sent me. Why is my language not clear to you? Because you are unable to hear what I say. You belong to your father, the devil, and you want to carry out your father's desire. He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies. Yet because I tell the truth, you do not believe me! Can any of you prove me guilty of sin? If I am telling the truth, why don't you believe me? He who belongs to God hears what God says. The reason you do not hear is that you do not belong to God."

John 8:42-47 (NIV)

   An excerpt from my novel Then . . . you available in print and ebook.

Chapter 5

She finished getting ready and walked down the hall to the tantalizing aroma of bacon and biscuits which quickly reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since a light lunch yesterday at work. Does the man cook too?

     Walking into the kitchen, she observed him standing over the stove, maneuvering eggs around in a pan. Dressed in black Levis without rips and another black long-sleeve T-shirt with a depiction of a yellow “Don’t Tread on Me” flag on the back, he asked, “Hungry?” without turning around.

     “I didn’t think I was until I smelled your cooking. Now I am,” she said. “What can I do?”

     “Get us something to drink. I’ll take a glass of milk. You help yourself to whatever you want. Are you a coffee or tea drinker?”

     “Both actually, but coffee in the morning usually does it for me.”

     “I’m out right now which doesn’t happen very often. We’ll stop on the way at a stand. That okay?” He turned to look at her then.

     “You shaved off your beard,” she said without thinking, seeing the moustache remained.

     With his free hand, he rubbed his face. “Yeah, I was being lazy. Feels better this way.” He turned off the burners, grabbed the biscuits out of the oven and tilted them into a towel-lined basket. He set them and the butter on the island along with two kinds of jam he snatched from the fridge and a container of honey.

     “Here ya go,” he said, handing her a plate. He’d already set out silverware on a napkin.

     She’d poured him a glass of milk, setting it on the island and selected a small bottle of orange juice.

     “This looks delicious.”

     “Glad you think so,” he said, taking a bite of bacon. “Help yourself.”

     She buttered a warm biscuit and dabbed some honey on it, savored the taste. She put a small portion of scrambled eggs on her plate and took a strip of bacon. “This is a treat, Stone. It’s rare when I eat a real breakfast. Thank you.”

     “You’re welcome. I’m a breakfast junkie.” He shook some green Tabasco on his eggs. “Probably because I tend to eat early in the evening but rarely get to bed early. So I wake up hungry.” He stopped eating and talking and looked at her. Serious.

     “What?” she said, intimidated.

     “It’s weird talking to you. No one’s ever here. I’m surprised we’ve had a conversation.”

     “Really? You seem so easy to talk to. I wouldn’t normally admit to just anyone all the stuff I said to you last night. I mean, I did of course owe you an explanation for the intrusion, but I could’ve opted to tidy it up a bit, I guess. That didn’t even occur to me. I do apologize for being such a wreck.” She felt the color heat her face.

     He kept his eyes on her and took another bite of eggs. His stare did tend to unnerve her, but she did her best to hold his gaze.

     “Your eyes are green,” he said.

     “You walk with a limp. Your right leg. It’s permanent. Some atrophy from a serious injury.”

     “Shattered the femur. Enemy sniper. He missed his target. Should’ve been my head. Hardware keeps it together.”

     Her professionalism kicked in. “Please understand how I say this. A massage could help you. And by that, I mean it could give your musculature some stimulus to increase the circulation, the blood flow, plus there are other specific techniques which could relieve pressure areas. I would love to help you.”

     Her sincerity and business-like delivery impressed him, but she had no idea what her words actually said to him. He kept his eyes focused on her, trying not to watch her lips speaking them. He almost missed when the words ended. He continued to look her in the eyes for an extra couple of moments.

     He finished his nearly full glass of milk in one large, quick gulp. “Understand how I say this: under the circumstances it probably wouldn’t be a good idea. But, thank you.” He said it quieter than he normally spoke and with a respectful consideration to his tone.

     His look once again unnerved her while the flame consumed her entire face. She hurried and collected their plates and rinsed them in the sink.

     “Anything else you need to do before we go get your car?”

     “Brush my teeth again and I’m ready.”

Father, thank you is never enough for the stories, inspiration, characters, and words to write. May I always honor you with my writing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

This is our Independence Day, our fight for freedom and against tyranny. This One Nation under God until He says it isn't will definitely not give way. Fool us once, shame on us. 

Remember the price paid for the freedom and foundation of this country. Never give up. We are Americans! 

GOD BLESS AMERICA!

Lord God Almighty, please intervene one more time. Please. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

As an author, I might be an exception to some rule(s). I don't have a deadline. I prefer to self-edit as I go. I take breaks – and sometimes they're way too long. There's a reason for that in some cases and not one I can figure out in others. I break the writing rules as far as the trendy suggestions to eliminate adverbs, italics, dialogue tags, and miscellaneous other directives. I write what I want to read and how I want the story to read. 

So far, I write standalone novels, all contemporary – except my first book took place "Sometime in the 80s."

All but one of my novels are love stories heavy on the romance. The solitary mystery is Race available in both print and for e-books.

That's where my writing mind is wandering this Wednesday . . . 

Father, thank you is so small in regard to all you've done for me. Thank you for my books, the stories you've given me. Apart from you, I can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Because of them, we remain free. Don't let anything or anyone take the freedom of America away. One Nation under God until He says it isn't.  

                 GOD BLESS AMERICA! IN THE NAME OF JESUS! AMEN. 

Donovan Colt Torp, my firstborn son, thank you for who you are and for your love. May the Lord continue to shine His face upon you and remind you of His great love for you. In the Name of Jesus. Happy Birthday! I love you. 

I don't know how other authors feel about the significance of types of vehicles, makes and models, but I come from the generation of muscle cars and "family" cars. Vehicles driven by our characters say something about them – whether or not what they drive is significant to who they are. 

Take Stone in my most recent novel Then . . . you. Former military who endured a devastating injury, recovered, became a recluse. His everyday car was an old but pristine and painted with grey primer Toyota Land Cruiser, but in his garage was his 2004 Cobra Mustang, shiny red with all the bells and whistles. Obviously, vehicles said something about who he was.

In Destination, Thomas drove a classic old Ford Bronco. 

Dale Rivers from . . . in a love song drives an old Jeep Wrangler with 300K+ miles on it.

In the current WIP the hero owns three vehicles, an '80 Ford F150 4X4, a Subaru Forester, and a 2000 Ford Lightning with a canopy. 

Vehicles are that extra "thing" to help define a character.

Just my Monday Musings . . . 

Father, thank you is never enough for all you've given me, done for me, and your protection over me. Thank you for characters and stories, the love of writing. Please help me to glorify you in it all. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

And the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will Himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast. To Him be the power for ever and ever. Amen. 

1 Peter 5:10-11 (NIV)