Want a free book?

Yes? I thought so. If you have read Rift in the Deepyou might have been left with questions. And if you haven’t read it (why not!? Just kidding. Kind of) then you’re in luck. You don’t have to have read it to enjoy this FREE (yes, free) eBook novella.


Introducing The Tale of Briton’s Fury. A free novella available now. Check out the blurb below, and dive into a Steward Saga story unlike any other.

A dangerous warlock. A beautiful stranger. Three Lands amidst the havoc of war. Can two accessors make the difference?

 Briton the Brown is a madman. Or so it would seem. Colin wants nothing more than to hide away at the top of the sphere and live in peace. But with Briton entering the Scrape Lands, the Warlock Council summons him to tell his story. A story that sends shafts of fear through his core just thinking about it. When he travels to Shroud, he encounters a young woman with strange power and sparkling eyes. But does her power control him? Are the feelings that arise really his own?

Tiberius leads the Brotherhood, tasked with recording history and protecting the Jin’tai’s way of life. But when the Warlock Council sought refuge, he couldn’t refuse. And now? Briton invades the peace talks, and he brings chaos with him. There is only one way to protect the Scrape Lands from becoming engulfed in the war that has wreaked havoc through the other Lands. But is the price worth it?

Step into a tale of fury and romance, of friendship and hate, of loss and sorrow. This is the tale that started it all…and that has far reaching effects into the history of the Stewards.

It’s That Time



It’s a little strange saying this but…my book is now available in both E-book (also Kindle Unlimited) and print. Really? How is that possible? It’s a bit surreal, to be honest.

Something that only seemed a dim possibility, with months and months of hard work, has become reality. The dream that all writers have…you know the one. Publication. Holding your work in your hands. For indie authors, though, that is just the beginning. Now comes that hard part (at least for me.)

Marketing. Ugh. So with that being said, will you buy it? Write an honest review? Sign up for my email list? Maybe, with a little help from my friends (and readers!) I can hit the #1 spot. For the pre-order, I reached #43 in the Christian fantasy category, and somewhere in the 80’s and 70’s for two other categories. That being said, it’s loosely Christian fantasy, so anyone will enjoy it who enjoys good old epic fantasy. Or just a good story. So help a girl out. Thank you to everyone who has purchased it already. You’re the real heroes *fist bump*

That Moment

Every author knows it. That moment when you know that what you have written, or are going to write, makes the hard work worth it. Sometimes I wonder if we, as a community, band together so easily because we’ve all experienced it. On some level. Whether it’s finishing a manuscript, writing that perfect dialogue exchange, getting that review, or interacting with that reader who loves what you do…that moment.

Remember it. Savor it. Then get back on the writing bandwagon, because there are a thousand reasons not to, but for every moment that pops up to counter those reasons…it makes it worth it.

So raise your glass (or mug…or tankard) and toast yourself, and me, and all those others out there who want their dream to be reality. And don’t stop.


My favorite is pointing out the talent when I come across it. Self-promotion is hard, but promoting others? I love it.

JE Purrazzi and her Malfunction universe…Infraction comes out soon! (e-book). Sign up for my email list to get it for free.

SM Holland and Get In My Head…Sara’s Story is now out in paperback. Her work is needed.

Bonnie Anderson and Always Look For the Magic. The story of her grandfather growing up during the Depression. I’m loving it, and how it takes me back to middle school and devouring every book I could on history.

Debi Walter runs The Romantic Vineyard, and is publishing Cherishing Us: 365 Tips for a Healthy Marriage (e-book and paperback). She also wrote a novel about her grandmother called Through the Eyes of Grace.

Writing as Catharsis: My Year Part 2

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I wrote last week about a conversation I had with my husband that opened up a floodgate, and I entered into the world of mental health illnesses and all that comes with it. That was just the tip of the iceberg.

Last August I had major knee surgery and was bed bound for 12 weeks, with a three and two year old. I’m sure you can imagine how fun that was. My body was already in a state of recovery, and my emotional instability didn’t help. Depression set in, and I knew that unless I kept my mind sharp and active, I might not ever claw out of the slump I found myself in.

Then the question popped into my mind: Why not finish writing that book I started as a teenager? The idea sprang forth like a shoot from a seed. Yes. That could keep my mind engaged while I languished on my bed, waiting for my knee to heal.

It was the best decision I could have made. I wrote four manuscripts in eight months. I’m set to release Rift in the Deep on March 1st, the first in a series called The Steward Saga. Here is the blurb. I won’t say that writing “saved me” but I will say that it helped save my sanity. While God healed my body and helped me sort through the feelings that came with it, writing became my outlet for those emotions and creativity that had been building up inside. If you are a writer, you know what I mean, right? It’s cathartic.

Writing serves several purpose, and being a creative outlet is just one of them. I’ll tackle more reasons at another time. But for now, and how it interacts with the suffering and trials I’ve experienced this last year, you could say that God has used it to show me that the path He has laid out isn’t only filled with darkness. There are shafts of light that burst forth to illuminate his goodness in the midst of pain. It provides an anchor, so that when I’m tempted to wonder if He really does love me and have my best at heart, I write. And His promises come flooding back.

Short Story Tuesday: Gloria

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The sun settled on the horizon in washes of purple and gold. The barren field lit as with the glory of angelic hosts, outside the norm of dust and grime. Dry bones would better describe it on a normal day. But not now.

Maybe it was the promise of rain, maybe not. Either way, I stopped toiling to gaze at it in earnest. Sweat trickled down my face, like an itch, but I didn’t wipe it away. Not yet, leastwise. It reminded me I was alive. And for a moment, I could almost believe that horizon would welcome me. Would it embrace like a mother’s cool touch to a fevered brow? Or would it clutch tight like a long-lost friend? I closed my eyes and imagined it.

Across the field the train whistle blew. I snapped open my eyes as it approached, the longing in my breast increasing like the steam in the engine of the monolith that sped across the tracks. The sun swooped low…low…low. The train built speed, and there! I came in sight as the sun set. Maybe if I thought hard enough, longed with enough passion and fire, I could spring across the dusk and ride the tracks to…where? Freedom? For me? Yes. Even for me.

I glanced back toward the others. They labored low, but some gazed with me to the deepening horizon. The light fled, just as I longed to do. Their eyes followed the train, and the promise offered in the whistle that pierced the air. Freedom. I remembered it well.

Her smile suddenly came to mind, as if chasing the sun as it set. Gloria. How I have failed you! What do you think of me now? Dressed in orange, shackled and shuffled, taken from job to job that no one else wants to do. Paid cents when others would be paid dollars. My crime? Well, that’s a story for another day. But does it mean I deserve this existence? The walls that are my companion, except for when I’m brought out to see the sun? It taunts me. I know I will go back. The drudgery will kill me, if my fellow prisoners don’t. The panic will set in…it always does. And I will have to contemplate, for the millionth time, if it was all worth it. Of course, the answer will be no. But that won’t stop me from asking. Again.

Gloria. Like the angelic host.



The United States holds 4.4% of the world’s population, yet incarcerates 22% of the world’s prisoners. For-profit prisons average $3,300 per inmate per year, for a whopping 1.6 billion per year. For more information, and for how to get involved in prison reform, visit The Sentencing Project.


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Rising from the ashes

Tender form of Truth

Don’t be near, don’t be far

Rumbles from my youth

What are you? Vague?

Or fearsome clarity?

Maybe I cannot see

For wisdom disparity

I sit back and think

I must revise your score

But bottled in the ashes

Lies forevermore

Hence you rise again

Stamp the call of pain

You won’t deceive me

Let your justice rain

When Music Led to Crime: My Neighbor’s Story

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My second home with my husband was a two-bedroom apartment in south Orlando. We were there for two years, and over the course of that time, we had developed some relationships with our neighbors, particularly a man named “Joe” (not his real name.) We would greet him whenever we saw him, and he would respond with a big smile and a wave. We would comment about the weather, or other “fluff” conversation, to see if it led anywhere. Our mission and purpose was clear…we wanted to influence our neighbors with the gospel, and would search for open doors.

The door opened with Joe. The longer we were living there, the more we interacted with him. He would often smoke outside his apartment and we would take the opportunity to engage him in conversation. Eventually we invited him to church, and it became clear that he knew we were Christians and yet remained open to continuing to dialogue with us. Eric eventually asked him to meet with him over coffee and talk about Jesus. He gladly agreed. When they met, Eric heard some of his story. He was a former felon, had spent time in and out of jail for drug related charges. He would deal drugs on and off (and swore he currently wasn’t) yet his Mom had raised him right. They attended church as he was growing up, and he had wandered away from his faith when he entered his teenage years. He asked for prayer for himself, and for his girlfriend, also a former felon, who was currently in rehab.

Eric and I discussed what we could do for them, and how to best serve them. We talked to Joe about coming over for dinner, along with his girlfriend, where we would pray for them. He again gladly accepted, and picked her up from rehab to come have a meal with us. “Jane” was also friendly and outgoing. As soon as we sat down to eat, we couldn’t get them to stop talking. They opened up about their past, and their present struggles with drugs and alcohol and clubbing. They opened up about their upbringing, both from single-mom households, both dragged to church when they were kids, both getting lured away by friends who introduced them to what they called a “gangster” style of life. Jane told us about her daughter who was being raised by her grandmother, because Jane couldn’t keep herself out of trouble. They talked about how they both knew that they needed to get out of this lifestyle, and their inability to be able to make the right choices to do so, especially since it was so hard for them to get a job, let alone keep one.

We were able to share the glorious gospel with them, about how we understood their inability to choose any other way of life. We told them about Jesus, who could help them, about the Holy Spirit, who could empower them. It was an incredible night. It was obvious that they both really wanted to hear it; they soaked it up. Jane cried, and asked for prayer. Joe would say things like, “I know I need help. I know I need to change. I just can’t.”

What is my point? I’m setting this up for a particular reason. I asked them this question:

“Can you point to one particular thing that led you to this type of life? What was the entry gate?”

They could have said growing up with no fathers. They could have said the wrong friends and peer pressure. They could have said the first time they did drugs.

“Music,” Jane said without any hesitation.

“Absolutely. Listening to hip-hop,” Joe replied.

That was the last thing I expected to hear. There we were, with our apartment complex’s drug dealer and his girlfriend in our home, listening to their sad story of a life wasted to drugs and gangs, and they unequivocally blamed music as the entry into it all.

Jane went on to explain how as a young girl, hearing lyrics of the glories of a certain lifestyle, the wealth and prestige, influenced her to want that type of life.

“It was subtle at first. But as my girls and I listened, it no longer became something we wanted. It became what we were living. And it’s not all it was cracked up to be. It ruined my life. It led to doing drugs. It led to shoplifting and stealing, because we wanted to support the type of life we heard about, but never could afford. I’m in rehab because now I can’t get away from it, and it’s controlling me.”

I’m not making this up. I know you’re sitting there reading this, thinking, “No way. No one actually blames music for how they messed up their life. That’s just silly.”

Yet I’m here to tell you that that is exactly what they said. And it shocked me, too. You can make the argument that lyrics don’t affect you; that you just listen to the music. That not all hip-hop is bad, because seriously, Lecrae is a hip-hip artist isn’t he?

Look, I’m not here to bash hip-hop; of course not all hip-hop is bad, and every style, including some Christian music, has its vices. What I am saying is that you can’t make the claim that you are unaffected by what you hear. That’s just not a biblical concept. The only way we can understand anything spoken to us is because we hear it and interpret it. “Faith comes through hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ.” (Romans 10:17)

James speaks often about the power of words, specifically about the power of the tongue (James 3). The only category for music in the Scriptures is that of singing praise and giving glory to God, so much so that even if we as Christians are silent, the rocks and trees would praise him (Luke 19:40).

I think there is a definite use for non-Christian music. You can sing about the love you have for you significant other, and it can be glorifying to God. You can sing about righting social wrongs and it be glorifying to God. You can sing about the sacrifices of our military, or the pain and suffering after 9/11, or the pain and sadness after a break-up, and it be glorifying to God. What matters is how we interpret these things. Through what filter are you listening? The filter of a secular worldview that finds ourselves as the arbiter of truth? Or the filter of a biblical worldview that sees God as the giver of all things good, the One who is behind the love you have for your spouse, the one who ultimately will makes all things right, the one who is with you when you are broken? All things are empty without Him, and that emptiness is on full display when what we listen to is devoid of Him.

So let me challenge you, next time you turn on Keith Urban, or Elvis, or Macklemore…listen with ears that can filter out the truth from the lies. Do what Joe and Jane couldn’t do. Listen and point to the One who gives the good gift of music. And if what you are listening to is in direct rebellion to the character of the God we worship, for crying out loud…turn it off.

Originally posted here.