inspiration

Kylie’s Kiss by Delia Latham

/ Dora Hiers / 4 Comments
On a dare, Kylie Matthews lands smack in the middle of Solomon’s Gate-Castle Creek’s new Christian dating agency-and she finds herself revealing exactly what she’s waiting for in a relationship: “The kiss that steals my breath away.”

What she doesn’t reveal is her lack of self-esteem or her irrational reaction to facial disfigurement. Neither is applicable to her quest to find the perfect match. But that seemingly superficial malady becomes all-important when her first agency-arranged date is Rick Dale-a man who is everything Kylie is searching for. He’s handsome, smart, fun. Rick has it all…including an angelic six-year-old daughter with severe scarring on one side of her face.

Hard at work founding a therapy camp for young female victims of deformity or disfigurement, Rick wants Kylie to be a part of those plans. She’d love to say yes…but how can she, when every contact with the facility’s guests-and Rick’s own daughter-will make her violently ill?

Kylie is ready to admit their relationship doesn’t stand a chance, but she’s forgotten that God makes a way where there seems no way.

About Delia:
Born and raised in a place called Weedpatch, Delia Latham moved from California to Oklahoma in 2008, making her a self-proclaimed California Okie. She loves to read and write in her simple  country home, and gets a kick out of watching her husband play Farmer John. The author enjoys multiple roles as Christian wife, mother, grandmother, sister and friend, but especially loves being a princess daughter to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. She loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her through her website or send an e-mail to delia@delialatham.net.

Daffodils by Donna B. Snow

/ Dora Hiers / 15 Comments

Margaret Ellington is not only grief stricken after her husband dies, but guilt ridden as well. Her solution—to run away. She moves away, hoping to escape the memories of her failure as a wife. She vows never to marry again unless she can love with all her heart—and she’ll never be able to do that unless she can finally get over her first love.
 
Lukas North is determined to reclaim the love he threw away ten years earlier. He’s willing to give Margaret time to recover from losing her husband—but letting her go is not an option.
 
When Lukas keeps a secret from Margaret about a major career move, she panics. After the mistakes they made in the past, can their relationship be rebuilt on anything less than complete honesty?

Excerpt:

Wandering from room to room, she doublechecked everything. Closets were empty, no boxes forgotten. The shadows on the walls outlined stark reminders of where pictures had been. The unfinished projects—a cracked floorboard, chipped molding, a small hole in the plaster, all stared at her accusingly.
 
Margaret closed her eyes as she clutched the doorframe. Oh, God, why Peter? He was the good one. I’m so sorry, Peter. A tear splashed onto the carpet.
 
Margaret took a deep breath, wiped her cheek, and stepped into what had been Peter’s sickroom. She walked to the window seat and stared out into the backyard, arms clutched around her middle. There would be no sound of children playing, no sitting on the glider growing old together. She put a hand on the window. If only I could have loved you more—
 
“Any more, Megs?” Lukas’ footsteps grew louder as he came down the hall.
 
She wiped away another tear as it dribbled down her cheek.
 
“Oh, hey, there you are.” He hesitated in the doorway, resting a hand on the frame. He lowered his voice. “You OK?”
 
She chewed on her bottom lip and nodded, afraid that if he came near her she would collapse in those arms; arms she knew were strong enough to hold her up. Arms she had missed for years. She hated herself for wanting to feel them wrap around her again.
 
About Donna B. Snow…
I’m over 45 and I’ve stopped counting, but I’ve been happily married for 17 years and hope for many more. Our teenage daughter is an absolute joy and I can only hope it will stay that way. I have two passions – music and writing, and God has blessed me in both. What a joy it is to be able to use the gifts He’s given me to honor and glorify Him in word and song. I’d love to have you join me on this journey.

 

Anybody try painting an entire house during allergy season?

/ Dora Hiers

OK. OK. So I know that’s not the smartest thing to do. My sore throat, watery eyes, and coughing attests to that. A visit to the doctor will have to wait.

Before
When my 27-year-old son and his wife bought their first house, a short-sale, and needed help painting, how could I say no?
“You know I love you, John.” My legs dangled from the top of the kitchen pantry. Yeah, that’s right. The top. You can’t see the pantry from this picture, but it’s to the left of the cabinets. And no, you can’t see the ceiling, either. What is it, twenty feet high? And why didn’t my son take a picture of me for posterity? Just in case I fell.
I repositioned the clip holding my long hair. I’d already made one trip to the hairdresser to cut paint out of my hair. I didn’t need to spend money for another haircut so soon. Or endure my hairdresser’s snickers.
“Huh?” The rolling stopped. Wide brown eyes stared at me from ground level. What did he think I was going to say? That I was dying?

“Not everybody could drag me away from my writing to paint a house.” I sneezed. Coughed. Dragged a kleenex out of my pocket to wipe my nose. “Or climb a ladder this high. Only special sons. Keep rolling.”
Those brown eyes softened in a grin. “Yeah?” He picked up the twenty-foot extension roller. Started back on the living room walls.
“That’s right. You’re special. But you’re going to owe me. Big time.” I finished trimming and moved back to the ladder, my legs and arms shaking. 

I had to do this. Nobody else in the family could trim as well as I could. Well, actually, nobody else wanted to trim. Especially the open space above the kitchen cabinets.

“Wait, mom.” John dropped the roller in the tray and took giant steps in my direction.

Wait? For what? I had work to do and not enough time to get it done. I continued climbing down, balancing the almost dry paint pan, a paint brush, and a roller in one hand, the ladder rung with the other. And got as far as the kitchen counter. I lost my balance, and my rump landed on the counter with a thud. But I managed to keep everything in my hand. Except the ladder rung.

After

“Ohh.” I couldn’t begin to tell you everything that hurt.

“Mom, I said to wait.” John stood in front of me, exasperation and concern warring on his face as he took brush, pan, and roller from my hand.
When did my son grow up? Become so mature? So wise? I’d waited so long, I didn’t notice it happened right in front of my face.   
No. Painting in the midst of allergy season is not wise, but I can’t say there’s ever a good time to paint.
Except when your son needs you.