Girls Write Out
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
After a pretty short stint in the hospital (for a major surgery) Diann Hunt is finally coming home.  She's been bragging about being up and walking, and I had to laugh because when Denise, Colleen and I were in Nashville, our editors took a walk up and down the treacherous driveway.  Did Denise, Colleen and I move?  Nope.  Were we tempted?  Nope.

So when I hear how active Diann is after her surgery, I think oh good.  Soon, you can come home and be a couch potato again like the rest of us.  So in honor of Diann, I think we should all do a little jig. Or at least take a walk today!

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Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Colleen black closeup serious good

You all know I'm a health nut and am always researching. :) I've recently discovered the benefits of MCT oil. I put it in my coffee with butter and it's totally fabulous. I cook with it and dribble it on salad. It's clear and tasteless, but oh my goodness, my skin is so great since using it! 

First off, what is MCT oil, you ask? It's medium chain triglycerides. It's found in coconut oil and palm kernel oil. Here are some of the benefits of it:

More easily digested than regular oils so helps with malabsorption issues.

Metabolized quickly in the liver and decreases fat storage (helps you lose weight in other words.)

Improves thyroid function.

Improves brain health.

Improves athletic performance (yeah, I'm going to need THAT one. LOL)

Stimulates thermogenesis. (increases metabolic rate.)

Helps regulate blood sugar.

Boosts energy

Now you can just use coconut oil. It's 60% MCT. But I have found that I really prefer the MCT oil. It's colorless, tasteless, and stays liquified. I just love the stuff! Have you ever tried it? If not, what new thing are you working on for your health?

Colleen Coble  
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Sunday, August 26, 2012

Coming Oct. 2
               The Trouble with Cowboys 

Dear Pushover,
Horse temperaments differ by breed and personality. A stallion requires a firmer hand. Don’t be afraid to let him know who’s boss.

Chapter One
Annie Wilkerson was sitting in the Chuckwagon, minding her own business, when he mosied in. He was with a crowd, of course. He always traveled in a pack—him and his handful of ardent admirers.
Annie opened the menu, propped it on the table, and slouched behind it. The Silver Spurs belted out some country-and-western tune her sister probably knew by heart. The clamor in the crowded restaurant seemed to have increased twice over since Dylan and company walked in. But maybe that was her imagination.
The chair across from her screeched against the plank floor. Finally. John was already ten minutes late. She lowered her menu, smiling anyway.
An instant later the smile tumbled from her lips.
Dylan Taylor plopped his hat down and sprawled in the chair like he owned the table, the restaurant, and half of Park County besides. His impertinent grin slanted sideways, calling his dimple into action—a fact of which he was no doubt aware.
“Annie Wilkerson. Why’s the prettiest filly in Moose Creek sitting all by her lonesome on a Saturday night?” Dylan’s Texan drawl had followed him north, sticking with him like a stray dog.
Ignoring the heavy thumps of her heart, Annie tilted her head and deadpanned, “Well, Dylan, I was just sitting here waiting with bated breath for you to come rescue me.”
He put his hand to his heart, his blue eyes twinkling. “Aw, Annie, don’t tease me like that. It smarts.”
She scowled at him and settled back in her chair, propping the menu between them. “What do you want, Dylan?”
“Maybe just the pleasure of your company.”
“Maybe you should find another table.”
He tsk-tsked. “So cruel. You wound me with your hurtful words.”
If Dylan had a heart, she was sure it was un-woundable. Made of something springy and elastic that sent oncoming darts bouncing off. Typical cowboy.
She skimmed the menu, unseeing. “That seat’s taken.”
“Your sister joining you?”
Like she couldn’t possibly have a date? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His hands went up in surrender. “I was hoping to join you.”
“I have a date.”
His head tipped back slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Ah . . . who’s the lucky guy?”
“What do you want, Dylan?”
He tilted the chair onto its back legs, and she found herself wishing it would fall. But that kind of thing never happened to men like Dylan.
“I have a proposition,” he said, his eyes roaming her face.
Her cheeks grew warm, and she hated that. Cursed Irish blood and fair skin. She swore he said things like that on purpose. She focused on the menu. On the photo of barbecue ribs that were actually better than they looked.
“Not interested.”
“Now, come on, give me a chance to explain. It’s business—not that I’d have any problem picking up socially where we left off last time . . .”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “There was no last time.”
“Whatever you say, sugar.”
She gritted her teeth and slumped until she could no longer see him over the menu.
“In all seriousness,” he said, his voice dropping the teasing tone, “I got a horse that needs help. Wondered if you’d drop by next week and take a look at him.”
Oh, no. She wasn’t stepping foot on Dylan’s property again. Not after last time. “I’m busy next week.”
“It’s my best horse—Braveheart. He’s got moon blindness.”
“I’m not a vet—have Merle look him over.”
“He did.”
There was something in his voice she couldn’t define and didn’t care to try.
“He thinks I ought to put him down.”
Annie lowered her menu. Dylan’s dimple was long gone. “Is he blind?”
“Not completely. But he will be. Started bumping into things in the spring, and by the time it was diagnosed, it was too late. He’s not himself now. Spooks easy, won’t let anyone near, not even me.”
His eyes pulled her in. She’d never seen him without that cocksure grin, much less with that sober look in his eyes.
Careful, Annie.
She looked away, toward the dance floor where her best friend, Shay, was dancing with her husband. They moved like two pieces of the same puzzle. She wondered how long it would take that cowboy to erase the pretty smile from her friend’s face. In her experience, it wouldn’t be long.
“Annie . . . ?”
She pulled her eyes from the couple. “There’s a trainer over in Sweet Grass County, Roy Flint. He’s supposed to be really good. I’ll get his number for you.”
“I don’t want him. I want the best. I read your column; you know what you’re doing.”
Brenda Peterson appeared tableside, flashing a bright smile. “You two ready to order?”
“We’re not together.”
“Large Coke, please.”
They spoke simultaneously, and Annie glared at Dylan as Brenda walked away with her menu—never mind that she hadn’t ordered yet.
Dylan propped his elbows on the table. “I can’t put Braveheart down, but he needs a lot of work, and I don’t have the time or expertise.”
Annie leaned back, putting space between her and those puppy dog eyes. She was a sucker for a horse in distress, but if she was at Dylan’s place for days on end, she’d be the one in distress. Besides, getting him to pay up last time had been like collecting pollen from the wind.
“You’re right,” Annie said. “It is going to take a lot of time—time I don’t have right now.”
He leaned in, trained those laser-precision eyes right at her. Heaven have mercy, it was easy to see why he made women lose their wits. What was God thinking, combining all those rugged good looks with cowboy charm and tossing in a dimples for good measure?
“I want you,” he said.
The double meaning—intended or not—was a needed reminder. She pulled the napkin from the table and spread it across her lap. “Roy can help him, I’m sure of it. I’ll get his number for you Monday.”
Someone nearby cleared his throat. John Oakley had somehow arrived unnoticed, thanks to Dylan’s annoying habit of usurping her every thought.
“Hello, Annie.” John bent and placed a kiss on her cheek.
“Hi, John.” Annie couldn’t tear her eyes from Dylan, whose left brow had shot up.
“Oakley.” Dylan nodded, coming slowly to his feet. He towered over John, who looked out of place at the Chuckwagon in his banker clothes.
“Dylan. Thanks for keeping my date company.” His flat smile and flaring nostrils said otherwise.
“Anytime, Oakley, anytime.” Dylan’s gaze held hers for a beat too long, the corners of his lips twitching in a way she was sure annoyed John. “Annie, talk to you Monday.” He pointed at her, winking. “And don’t think I’ve given up.”
Warmth flooded her face as John sank into the chair and jabbed his glasses into place with his index finger. She watched Dylan amble away and told herself the feeling spreading through her limbs was relief.

Denise Hunter  
posted at 8:34 PM  
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Friday, August 24, 2012

I touched on this subject a little earlier in the week on another blog, but I enjoyed writing it so much that I thought you might enjoy reading about it.

You know I'm always making fun of my husband, Mel. He gets a kick out of it, and doesn't mind taking the brunt of my jokes as long as I'm still paying attention to him and he knows I love him. Well, a couple of weeks ago he started picking on me. I'm living out the year of the hermit after the loss of my mother earlier this year, plus the resulting illnesses I've experienced since then. Mel has to take off his scrubs as soon as he gets home to keep me from picking up more germs from the ER--and let me tell you, they have a lot of germs at the hospital! My immune system is shot. You need to watch out for that after you've lost a loved one.

Mel wasn't considering that when he made the sudden decision to attend a family practice conference in Tahoe, California a week after my birthday, and to take me with him. He said it would be a great way to celebrate my birthday, since I love the Sierras and especially Lake Tahoe area. Nevermind that I hadn't returned to my home state--the state of my birth--since Mom's passing. I bit my lip and didn't comment. I was barely able to drag myself out of the house in time to make church. Our assistant, Bonnie, did the shopping and errand running. He ignored my silence and breezed on his way making plans as if I'd jumped at the chance to travel across country via jet.

I nearly told him several times that I simply could not handle the trip. I had developed some weird strep throat that affected my head, my strength, my emotions, everything. We got right down to the wire on Sunday morning when I would have to decide whether or not I could make the trip. But my family doc placed me on antibiotics that knocked back some of the pain and coughing, and I was no longer contagious. I went. I didn't like it. I grumbled a lot, but Mel ignored the grumbles and made the best of it. Mel says I didn't grumble, but I did, he just didn't hear it.

The trip out there was awful, with every leg of the trip delayed. We were so late arriving that we couldn't even see the beautiful trees on the mountainsides as they welcomed us to Squaw Valley. We were so tired we fell into bed without unpacking, and I slept until noon the next day. Mel made things a little less depressing when he came in from his morning of classes filled with excitement, wide-eyed as a kid after cotton candy overload. He insisted we walk to the small town square a mile away through the forest. I went. Reluctantly. I would have preferred to crawl back into bed and cover my head, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings. He knew I was in bad shape when I wanted to take the shuttle back to the resort where we were staying. Me, the avid hiker whose passion is finding the longest trail and trying to get lost to make it interesting. I was depressed, sick, my throat hurt, and I couldn't believe he'd dragged me here knowing how badly I felt. Poor little me.

The antibiotics must have kicked in Monday night, because the next morning I woke up and saw the golfers swinging their little white and yellow balls into the forest and then walking around, hunting them like Easter eggs, and I actually smiled a few times. When Mel dragged me out for a walk that afternoon, we walked the long way around, 2 1/2 miles to the town square, where we tasted some delicious gluten free salad and desserts, drank some coffee, explored a little more. I suggested we take the shortcut back to the hotel through the forest. This time I sniffed a tree. They smell like hazelnut and vanilla. The whole valley smells like a mixture of nuts and pine. Delicious. I started breathing more deeply, and for the first time since Mel suggested this crazy, impulsive trip, I was glad he'd pushed me into it.

"Honey," I said as we strolled through the forest trail together, smelling the trees (yes, actually sticking our noses up against the trees and sniffing) and listening to the birdsongs, "did you know how very much I hated the idea of coming out here?"

"Yes, Sweetheart, I knew. Kind of hard to miss."

"Why did you do it?"

"Because I love you and I felt you needed some time away to heal. I know how much you love it here."

"Honey, do you know how much I love you?"

"Yes." He stepped away from a fragrant tree, took me into his arms and kissed me. "It was worth a little tension, knowing this could help you come out of that cloud you've been living under for so long."

"You're quite a man, you know that?"

"Yeah. I know. I have my moments."

Ah. My modest, sweet natured husband. I think I'll keep him.

How about you? Any romantic interludes you'd like to share?

Hannah Alexander  
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Thursday, August 23, 2012

Colleen 2012 head tilt

I got back from the hospital last night, and Di is doing great! They gave her an epidural instead of morphine and I want that if I ever have major surgery again! She is up and running down the halls (well almost!) and her sense of humor is still there. The doctor got all visible cancer so she has had optimal debunking! And the good thing is that there was no fluid contaminating things this time so we're expecting great results! I wanted to take a picture of her in her surgical cap but she threatened bodily harm so no pic. LOL Keep praying for her though. She'll likely be in the hospital until at least Monday. 

We're having a Facebook party over on my page tonight! GREAT prizes and a fun time. I hope you can join me. Please post it up on your Facebook page too and tell your friends. Soo looking forward to seeing you there!

Here's the link:

Colleen Coble  
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Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Serena Chase from USA Today interviewed me about my latest release, "The Scent of Rain" and here's the link.  I thought she asked really good questions.

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Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Mackinac Island. It’s a magical place that allows you to step back in time from the moment you first step off the ferry. Authors Cara Putman and Melanie Dobson have teamed up for a tour of the island, now and then. Comment at each stop for a chance to win a copy of one of their books set on Mackinac Island. You’ll find the list of stops here. Share the tour on twitter, Facebook, pinterest and other places, and you’ll gain extra entries for the grand prize of a copy of each of their books and a 5 slice box of Murdick’s Fudge, straight from Mackinac Island. Just be sure to email Cara at, so she can record your entries. Grand Prize winner will be drawn on August 27, 2012.

A great way to relax on Mackinac Island is to hop on a bike and circle the island.

Cara Putman: A Wedding Transpires on Mackinac Island
The island is a little over 8 miles in diameter. Bike shops dot the town from the docks to the area near the B&Bs. Each visit, we rent bikes when we visit. The trips stay the same, the number of bikes grow.  In the beginning it was two adult bikes with a burley cart. Last month, we had three adult bikes, a burley cart, and a tandem attached to my bike. What doesn’t change is the way I relax as we circle the island, listening to the waves. Or the way I push to complete the loop in an hour so we don’t have to pay more for rental. Maybe next time we’ll take our own bikes and our time.
Even though “horseless” carriages are still banned on Mackinac Island, there are seventy miles of roads and trails to explore by bicycle, carriage, foot, or by renting one of the island’s six hundred horses. Like Cara, I chose to explore by bicycle (without the burley cart). The autumn day was perfect, and I loved being able to being able to pedal around the island’s perimeter without cars passing me as well as being able to park wherever I liked to hike up the cliffs. One of the signs along the road read “No Speeding.” I wasn’t sure exactly how fast incorporated speeding on a bicycle, but I can guarantee I was nowhere close to it.

A Wedding Transpires on Mackinac Island
 Join attorney Alanna Stone as she returns home despite her determination to never set foot on Mackinac Island again. Once again in close proximity to Jonathan Covington, her first love, she vows to protect her privacy and her heart from the man who still makes her pulse race. But when her worst fears are realized and history repeats itself—landing her in the midst of a murder investigation—Jonathan may be her only hope. Will they be able to lay aside the past and let God heal their hearts, or will reconciliation come too late?  Read the first chapter here.

Love Finds You on Mackinac Island
As the Gilded Age comes to a close, Elena Bissette’s family has lost most of its fortune. The Bissettes still own a home on fashionable Mackinac Island, and they spend summers there in hopes of introducing Elena to a wealthy suitor. Quickly tiring of the extravagant balls at the Grand Hotel, she spends her days walking along the island’s rugged coastline. There she meets Chase, a handsome laborer who invites her to watch the ships from an abandoned lighthouse. The two begin to meet there in secret, hoping to solve a mystery buried in the pages of a tattered diary. As Elena falls in love with Chase, her mother relentlessly contrives to introduce her to Chester Darrington, the island's most eligible bachelor. Marriage to the elusive millionaire would solve the Bissettes' financial woes, and Elena is torn between duty and love. Read the first chapter here.

Colleen Coble  
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Sunday, August 19, 2012
Kristin Billerbeck (right) and Colleen Coble (center)  talk shop with Thomas Nelson Senior Editor Ami McConnell
If you kept up with our blog last week, you know 3 of us were in Nashville for the Smitten Summit. I always anticipate time together with my peeps, and as always, this trip lived up to the hype. We brainstormed terrific ideas, laughed, came up with goofy ideas, and laughed again. We celebrated being together, talked shop, and bemoaned missing our Diann.

It wasn't until I got home that I had the thought. As much as I had anticipated it, as much fun as it was, coming home was just as nice. Seeing my boys, catching up with Kevin, sleeping in my own bed. True, Mama C wasn't there to make me breakfast and tell me to go lie down and rest, but a girl can get lazy like that, know what I mean?

I'm so thankful for every blessing in my life. Friends, family, career, and every other good thing He sends my way. What are you thankful for this week?

And speaking of blessings: please pray for Diann today. She's having a very important surgery! Pray that God will direct the doctors and lead them as they make decisions concerning her treatment. We love you, Di!

Denise Hunter  
posted at 9:15 PM  
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Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Smitten summit2

Our Smitten Summit is finally here, and we girls are soooo happy to be together! The only mar on this week is Di can't be with us, and neither can our agent Karen Solem (shingles.) Di conserving her strength for the big surgery next Monday (it was postponed from yesterday because of insurance red tape to unravel) but she's here in spirit!

This house has to be seen to be believed. The pictures do NOT do it justice. You should see the master bathroom. Dave and I have the master and there is one of those rain showers in it (hugs) with jets all over the place. There's also a gigantic jetted tub and double sinks.

The entire house has gorgeous wood floors and it's decorated kind of rustic with bear things around. Kristin and Denise have one wing of the house with their own bathroom (Kristin took a bath first thing) and Natalie and Ami, our editors, will have the downstairs level all to themselves. it has a kitchenette and a room with a pool table down there as well as two bedrooms and a bathroom. 

I'm playing the mom this week and brought in food. I enjoyed fixing the girls breakfast this morning. :) When our editors get here, we will brainstorm more Smitten books plus novels for each of us. Our publicist Katie Bond, marketing manager Andrea Lyons, and fiction publisher Daisy Hutton are coming tonight. Katie is cooking dinner for all of us, and she is going to LOVE the kitchen with Viking appliances! I've never seen a refrigerator that big. 

So we're having a great retreat already. So what's your favorite getaway place? I'm giving away a bed-and-breakfast getaway on Facebook on August 23 so check out the details and hop on over to be eligible to win!

Colleen Coble  
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Friday, August 10, 2012

My overly busy editor once remarked that she needed a wife to follow along behind her and help her keep up. She's a busy woman. She runs a slick, excellent team of editors and assistants, and yet even with that kind of help, she feels the need for a wife to help her in her daily life.

Sometimes our lives become so hectic that we need help. Some husbands pitch in and help, sometimes even without throwing tantrums, crying or making us pay them back double. Mel doesn't throw tantrums, but he is still busy switching from night to day shifts. We can never keep on top of his schedule, and that was especially difficult when my mother was staying with us last year. I needed help. I needed a clone, another me to get everything done that had to be done and see to it that Mom was well cared for.

Enter Bonnie, who was looking for a job. I found out she was looking for jobs in a small city with no job openings, especially not good enough for her qualifications. I asked her to take on the job of helping me. She could be my assistant, help me care for Mom as I tried to focus on writing. The decision for both of us was a gift from God. We'd known each other for 37 years, so there was already trust established. Bonnie did anything I asked. She spent lots of time with Mom to keep her occupied as Mom's dementia worsened and sundowner's caused everyone trouble.

Mom passed on to heaven this year, and since all her sisters went ahead of her, I'm sure she's still enjoying a family reunion. But after the funeral, after family returned home. Mel and I decided to keep Bonnie. She became my personal assistant in my writing job. She's read nearly all our Hannah Alexander novels and written honest reviews of them--and get this, they didn't all earn five star ratings. She speaks her mind, tells me to stop scratching my head and stop fiddling with this mole on my arm. She shows me how to decorate. It all goes in one ear and out the other, but Bonnie will soon have a wonderful chance to decorate a new clinic for Mel. She'll not only be my assistant, she'll be the decorator of the clinic, and then she'll be office manager at the clinic, because that's what she does with my real estate here at the house, plus our household accounting. She's a treasure. I think Mel and I will be fighting to see who gets her back, but we'll try to share nicely and not overwork her.

Have you ever dreamed of having someone come into your house first thing in the morning and clean your dishes from the night before, do laundry, never invade your private space, and yet talk to you as an equal, not someone of a different class. Someone who shares your faith in Christ, and therefore can remind you when you're down that God has it under control?

Can you imagine the joy of having someone help you as you help them? Many can't afford full-time assistance, but it's good for me to know that Mel and I are helping Bonnie stay in her home, and she deserves it, because she saved my life. What I was going through with Mom knocked my feet out from under me. I'm still reeling from it, getting sick constantly--right now I have a very painful form of strep. But even when Mel's at work, I can hide in my home and heal while Bonnie takes the load off my back shopping for groceries, getting the car taken care of, drawing up plans for the new clinic.

I highly advise it. Don't take on a job that's too big for you without getting someone to help. It can forge lifelong friendships and enlarge your family with good people.

Hannah Alexander  
posted at 1:33 AM  
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Wednesday, August 08, 2012
It's that time of year.  Time to buy school supplies!  All authors love this season.  The stores brimming with ballpoint pens and neat office stuff.  I think school supplies to a writer are like the right wrinkle cream to a middle-aged chick.  You always think the right equipment will make all the difference in the end-result.

It's a superstition I can't quite get over.  I have my favorite pens (Pentel Gel in blue -- medium) and I get so excited to take my kids every year.

However, they don't have the same excitement. They don't even care if they go, "Just pick me up this..."

My kids are math geniuses.  I don't have an English Lit kid in the bunch.  That seems wrong somehow, and makes Back to School shopping very lonely.

As a writer or a book lover, do you have a thing for office supplies?  What are your favorites?

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Tuesday, August 07, 2012

We've got a new porch and landscaping on our old house. When I've seen pictures of the "before" house, I always thought it was nice enough. A big old house with character has always appealed to me. But the "after" pics are amazing, and seeing them side-by-side makes it clear which one has the best curb appeal, don't you think? That white railing just pops, and the new landscaping is super nice. I even have a Japanese maple!
The outside work made me think of covers for our books, the "curb appeal" of the novel, if you will. The cover is hugely important. Not just the visual images on it, but the spine, the back cover, and even the title. Often all that's seen of the book is the spine so the title is a huge deal. More and more we authors understand just how important the title is. And I stink at titles so this is a big handicap for me. :( Luckily, my team at Nelson is great at titles, but I wish I had a better method for picking them. I generally make a list of words that have something to do with the book. Right now I'm trying to figure out the title for a Rock Harbor novella. It has to impart a hint of mystery and setting. I'm rather stumped but I haven't had the brain power to sit down with my lists. I'm going to do that this week though.
How do you come up with titles? Some people pull known phrases and twist them. Some take Bible verses and play with them. What works for you?
Colleen Coble  
posted at 4:45 PM  
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Sunday, August 05, 2012
Two weeks ago I finished my substantive edit on Barefoot Summer, the first book in my new Chapel Springs series. Every writer has their own traditions and habits, but one of mine is that I take a week or two off between books to refill the creative well.

If you were looking in my living room window during this time, it would look more like the making of a couch potato. But trust me, it's part of my process. I rebound from the long and arduous journey of writing a novel by reading novels and watching movies.

It's especially important to immerse myself in the romance genre, remembering what it's like to fall in love again. This week or two is filled with lots of happy sighing and contented smiles.

Also during this time, the plot of my next book is simmering in the back of my mind. I find myself pausing the movies and putting down the novels to make notes on my next story. The idea being that, by the time my break is over, my plot is fleshed out enough to begin writing.

Eventually I reach a point when I know my creative well has been refilled. Story ideas are abundant, and I feel excited about new ideas that are now flowing easily.

Kevin and I were at the theater Friday seeing Spiderman. Story ideas were popping into my head all throughout the previews.

I leaned over and said, "The creative itch is back."

Time to get writing.

Next up: Dancing with Fireflies, book 2 of the Chapel Springs series. I can't wait to see where Jade and Daniel's journey leads them.

What do you do to recharge your batteries?
Denise Hunter  
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Friday, August 03, 2012

Most of us have dreamed about what we might do if we somehow inherited a fortune. I even began praying about our finances lately, and since a million dollars no longer seems to be a lot of money--especially judging by the national debt--I started praying for God to give us a billion dollars. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a greedy person. I don't want a mansion for myself, nor do I necessarily want a new car. Mel's car is creeping toward the 200,000 mile mark, and mine is over a 100,000, but they're cars that were made to last, and we plan to drive them to the end of their lives. We have a home that is comfortable with plenty of room for us, our assistant, our four rescue cats, and even a place for family members to stay when they come this way. I hate the thought of moving, so I don't want to even think about that. I still have many reasons to want that billion dollars.

The reason I want a billion dollars:

Friends and family are in desperate need. Being a novelist, I've made hundreds of friends in the writing world. Attending a writers' conference is like attending a family reunion. Most of us speak the same language--yes, novelists are weird compared to the rest of the world, but we're quite loveable. Most novelists don't make enough money to live on, and you'd be surprised which ones do. But we don't have employers, a large number of us don't have insurance or any other benefits. We are constantly expected to provide meaningful stories, and do them within short time frames. People think novelists are wealthy. We aren't. Neither are editors. With the huge change in the publishing industry, many have fallen through the cracks, especially some of the highest quality editors in the business, because, unfortunately, too many new writers don't understand how vital editors are to the quality of their novels. At any rate, I have a lot of dear, dear friends who are struggling financially. And did you know that there really is a huge and ugly truth in the working world--age discrimination? Try getting a job when you're nearing sixty. Not only that, try keeping a job when you're nearing sixty. I couldn't help everyone I wanted to if I only inherited a million dollars. I want a billion.

Missouri Baptist Children's Home is losing support because people are out of work. This is one of my favorite charities because I'm a Baptist from Missouri. The Bible commands us to keep ourselves untainted from the world, and to help widows and orphans in their need. There are a lot of orphans out there, and they need to know about Jesus. They also need to be fed and clothed and loved. The more children who can be cared for by Christians who can tell them about Christ's love for them, the more loving adults we can bring up and move into the world desperately seeking the Truth. My calling is to share Christ.

My pastor deserves a raise for once. If we inherited a billion dollars, maybe that could come to pass.

We want to build a clinic. Mel has been an ER doc for over twenty years. The times have changed. He has changed. His dream since he was ten has been to spend time with his patients, help each patient find health, and not to be worked into an early grave. Unfortunately, if he continues at his present speed, none of his dreams will come true. We are in the process of drawing up plans for a clinic where he can hire a couple of employees, spend plenty of time with each patient and yet still be able to make a living, pay his employees and give them health insurance, and help his patients not just find the drugs that will help them, but find total healing. He needs equipment to do this, and medical equipment is very expensive. I want to help Mel see his dreams come true. 

This is what I would do if I had a billion dollars. But if I ever receive that money, you'll never know. No one will. I want to give money anonymously.

How about you? What would you do with a billion dollars?

Hannah Alexander  
posted at 12:19 AM  
  Comments (12)
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The Authors
Kristin Billerbeck
Kristin Billerbeck is a proud Californian, wife, mother of four, and connoisseur of the irrelevant. She writes Christian Chick Lit; where she finds need for most of the useless facts lulling about in her head.

Colleen Coble

Colleen Coble writes romantic suspense with a strong atmospheric element. A lovable animal of some kind--usually a dog--always populates her novels. She can be bribed with DeBrand mocha truffles.

Denise Hunter

Denise Hunter writes women's fiction and love stories with a strong emotional element. Her husband says he provides her with all her romantic material, but Denise insists a good imagination helps too.

Diann Hunt

Diann Hunt writes romantic comedy and humorous women's fiction. She has been happily married forever, loves her family, chocolate, her friends, chocolate, her dog, and well, chocolate.

Hannah Alexander

Cheryl Hodde writes romantic medical suspense under the pen name of Hannah Alexander, using all the input she can get from her husband, Mel, for the medical expertise. For fun she hikes and reads. Out of guilt, she rescues discarded cats. She and Mel are presently taking orders from four pampered strays.

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