By simply going to their jobs everyday some make huge contributions to society. Missionaries, preachers, school teachers, policemen, firefighters and health-care specialists. Not all of us are suited for one of those positions. Still, we can serve as volunteers, maybe at church, at a hospital, a homeless shelter, or another charitable organization. That fills a need, but sometimes we donate our time and money and there’s still something missing.

One day as a young adult searching for my place in the world, it dawned on me. My life already had meaning because I was created in God’s image. The instruction I’d gotten as a child from the Westminster Shorter Catechism said “Man’s chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.”

Margaret McWhorter, the main character in my new teen book, Stopped Cold, wants to focus on something to give her life meaning. Her father appears to think being number one in sports will make her brother, Sean, and her worthwhile. She wants to believe her Sunday school teacher who told her we all have a gift or gifts from God to use for Him.

A little about Stopped Cold, an ARe Best Seller:
The book’s set in a small town in North Carolina, but things aren’t what they seem in peaceful Mistville. Here’s what’s going on with Margaret and her friends.

She enjoys a laid-back Freshman year in high school flirting with Jimmy Willmore, swimming and hanging out with friends—until that day. Her brother, Sean, suffers a stroke from taking a steroid. Now he’s lying unconscious in a hospital. Margaret’s angry at her dad for pushing Sean to be a great quarterback, but a fire of hatred burns inside her to make the criminals pay. Looking for justice, she takes Jimmy and her best friend, Emily, through a twisted, drug-filled sub-culture. A clue sends them deep into the woods behind the school where they overhear drug dealers discuss Sean. Time and time again they walk a treacherous path and come face to face with danger. Even the cop on the case can’t stop them from investigating. All the while Margaret really wants to cure Sean, heal the hate inside, and open her heart to love.

An Excerpt:
Emily entered gasping for air as though she’d raced inside.

Leaning against the windowsill, I looked toward Mom then Dad.

“Sean’s had a stroke.” Dad spoke in a monotone.

Every fiber of my being weakened as I doubled over to keep from falling then sank onto the edge of the bed. I grasped the light blue spread and squeezed it hard in my fist. He was fine earlier this morning.
“He’s only eighteen. How could that happen?”

Dad gestured with his large hand. “He came down the steps and collapsed in the foyer.”

My stomach churned like a washing machine.

“We brought him to the emergency room. That’s the last we’ve seen of him.” Dad had a blank stare in his grayish blue eyes.

A man wearing a white jacket entered. “Hello, I’m Dr. Salis.” He shook my parents’ hands. While standing in the middle of the floor he talked about Sean as though he was delivering a speech or giving a weather report. “Sean’s stroke was a mild one. I don’t believe he’ll have permanent damage, but he may need therapy for his left arm.”

Anger, sorrow, and disbelief over Sean’s illness swirled in my head like a tornado. How could this happen?

“Sean’s never had a health problem. He’s an athlete. What caused this?” Mom asked.

“I’m sorry to tell you, but we found Winstrol V in Sean’s system.” A hint of compassion rang in Dr. Salis’s official-sounding tone.
Mom’s gaze grew distant. “What’s that?”

“It’s an anabolic steroid used in veterinary medicine. It carries many adverse side effects, including kidney and liver dysfunction. In some people there’s a risk of heart attack or stroke.” Dr. Salis spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Why would anyone take it?” Mom’s questioning voice trailed off.

Dr. Salis took a deep sigh. “It enhances athletic performance.”

“In what way? I can’t imagine Sean taking something like that.” Mom spoke softly as though she talked to herself.

Dr. Salis raised his gray eyebrows. “Steroids build muscle mass and shorten the recovery time needed after strenuous workouts. Jocks who use them grow stronger and can practice more often.”

Mom’s eyes snapped open.

Was she thinking of the pressure Dad put on Sean?

“I don’t feel well. Margaret, would you get me some water?” Dad asked.
He was as white as Mistville’s winter snow. So fit, so strong, he rarely got sick, weak, or pale.

Anxious over the sight of him, I bounded off the bed, grabbed one of the paper cups out of the dispenser beside the sink, and filled it.
He reached out for it then took a sip as I dropped down into a black vinyl chair. Dad collected drops from the side of the container on his fingers then wiped his forehead with them. Some color returned to his face.

***********************************************************
A Fun Celebration

Join the month-long Stopped Cold celebration in the “teen” room at The Book Club Network. Each week Gail will ask a discussion question and give away one EITHER a PDF download OR a Smashwords e-book. plus one of four prizes.

The gifts are a jacket from the 1996 Olympic Games, a stuffed cow from a Chic-fil-A football bowl game,

a leather purse and a bottle of Fancy Nights perfume.

To enter to win, go to www.bookfun.org and click on the discussion in the “teen” room. The fun started Monday, June 10th.

Visit Gail on her Web site at http://www.gailpallotta.com
Her blog at http://www.gailpallotta.blogspot.com
Faceook Authors and More https://www.facebook.com/AuthorsandMore
Twitter: Hopefulwords @ Gail Pallotta

Buy Links for Stopped Cold:
Smashwords: 
Front Porch Romance
Amazon:
All Romance eBooks

After fourteen years of hard work, Sherrie Ashcraft and Christina Berry Tarabochia are thrilled to announce the release of their novel, On the Threshold. Interested in how a mother and daughter can write a book together? Want a chance at winning a Kindle and a business card design from a top-notch company? Keep reading!
Why did you ladies begin writing this book?
Both of us had always talked about writing a book, but fourteen years ago Sherrie said if we were ever going to write, maybe we should work on a book together. It would hold us accountable. We lived on different sides of the state of Oregon at the time, so we did a lot of it via e-mail, and once a month Sherrie would make the 250-mile drive to Christina’s house and we’d work on it in person. We wanted to share a real look at depression and trying to be good enough to please God–what that might look like in a family’s life.

Fourteen years? Really?
That’s from the first word penned. The very first contest we entered, we actually talked about how we needed to decide how to fight off all the editors who’d be making offers. Instead, we found out we had a lot to learn! Attending writing conferences and reading craft books brought our writing to a higher level.

Tell us about On the Threshold.
We loved having the chance to tell this story! In fact, we have a few more stories to tell about these characters  if readers love this one. Here’s what the book is about.
Suzanne—a mother with a long-held secret. Tony—a police officer with something to prove. Beth—a daughter with a storybook future. When all they love is lost, what’s worth living for?
Suzanne Corbin and her daughter, Beth Harris, live a seemingly easy life. Suzanne has distanced herself from her past, replacing pain with fulfillment as a wife and mother, while Beth savors her husband’s love and anticipates the birth of their child. But all that is about to change.
Like a sandcastle buffeted by ocean waves, Suzanne’s façade crumbles when her perfect life is swept away. Tragedy strikes and police officer Tony Barnett intersects with the lives of both women as he tries to discover the truth. Left adrift and drowning in guilt long ignored, Suzanne spirals downward into paralyzing depression. Beth, dealing with her own grief, must face the challenge of forgiveness. Can these two women learn to trust each other again? Will they find the power of God’s grace in their lives?

 And a little about you?
Mother/daughter writing team Sherrie Ashcraft and Christina Berry Tarabochia bring a voice of authenticity to this novel as they have experienced some of the same issues faced by these characters. They like to say they were separated at birth but share one brain, which allows them to write in a seamless stream. Both live in NW Oregon and love spending time together. Many years ago, they were both on a winning Family Feud team!

Sherrie is the Women’s Ministry Director at her church, and loves being the grandma of eight and great-grandma of one. Christina is also the author of The Familiar Stranger, a Christy finalist and Carol Award winner, and runs a thriving editing business.
Please sign up for their Infrequent, Humorous Newsletter at Ashberry Lane for a chance to win cool prizes.

What about this contest?
If you help get the word out, you can earn different points for each thing you do, and every point represents an entry in the contest.
Say, for example, you name your next child “Threshold” in honor of our book. You would earn 100 points (entries), which would greatly increase your likelihood of winning.

Fine print to be read as quickly as those medical side effects are glossed over on TV: A certified copy of the birth certificate must be sent to Ashberry Lane proving the child was born between now and when the contest ends on June 30rd at 10 PM, PDT. Some restrictions apply, such as you must also promise not to change the child’s name to anything else for at least the next fifteen years. You are, however, allowed to use “Thresh” as his or her first name, and “Hold” as the middle.

If that seems like we’re asking a little too much, there are other ways for you to enter the contest.
~ Post about On the Threshold on Twitter or LinkedIn, or share the cover on Instagram or Pinterest, and you’ve doubled your points to TWO.
~ Refer someone to sign up for the newsletter. If he or she notes you as referrer, guess what? You just earned THREE points.
~ Blog about it and reap FOUR points. (We’re available for more blog interviews.)
~ And for those who buy the book (e-book or print copy), you will gain FIVE points.
~ Leave a review—positive or negative—on a retailing site after reading the book, and TEN points to you!

All you have to do to enter is drop us an email to Christina [at] ashberrylane [dot] net with a description of what you did. We trust you.

Here is a sample email:
Dear Sherrie and Christina,
Fortunately, my last name is Hold, so when my triplets were born yesterday, all I had to do was name them “On,” “The,” and “Thresh.” (Yes, that makes a double “h,” but without it, the name just looks silly and I don’t want a kid with a funny name.) I also got the cover of On the Threshold tattooed on my arm, took a picture of it, and posted it on every possible social media site, including Facebook, though I understand I don’t get points for anything done on there. Next, I forwarded the Infrequent, Humorous Newsletter to a few of my friends and ALL of my enemies. After reading the book in two hours, I posted an honest review on three different retail sites. Please enter my name 349 times.
Love,
Your #1 Fan
Or something like that. :)
Where else can we find you gals online?
Buy the book, e-version or paperback, on Amazon or B&N or iTunes or in any other version on Smashwords. Sign up for the newsletter (all the kids are doing it!). If you want a signed copy mailed anywhere in the United States, email us. (Christina [at] ashberrylane [dot] net)
www.twitter.com/authorchristina
www.facebook.com/sherrie.ashcraft
www.facebook.com/authorchristina
www.christinaberry.net/
www.authorchristinaberry.blogspot.com
Thanks for hosting us!

I’ve recently gone through the launch of my fifth published novel of medical suspense, Stress Test. It was great…and exhausting. There were blog posts and interviews, tweets and Facebook posts, messages on GoodReads… The list goes on and on.

Of course, just before this flurry of activity I’d been working to complete the edits for my next book, Heart Failure, while trying to meet the deadline for the manuscript of the book after that, Critical Condition.

When I first felt the call (and believe me, it is a call, not just a notion or an idea) to try my hand at writing Christian fiction, I figured that the progression would be something like this: work for a year or so on my manuscript, revise it several times after input from knowledgeable professionals, maybe obtain representation by an agent, possibly get a contract from a publisher, and from there on in it would be smooth sailing. Wrong!

When an author signs a contract, the fun is just beginning. In addition to edits and revisions, there’s the task of finding endorsers and influencers, giving input on cover art, and a dozen other things that pop up, things about which a novice writer has no idea.

But at least a published writer has their foot in the door, so there’ll always be a contract out there for them. Right? Wrong again. A writer is just as good as his last book, and the magic words are “earning out the advance.” Despite our wishes to the contrary, publishers are not non-profit corporations…at least, not on purpose. Public reaction and reviews are wonderful, but the well-known bottom line hinges on sales. And if the publisher doesn’t get a return on their investment, they’re not going to offer additional contracts.

Oh, and even if you have books still under contract, there’s the possibility that the publisher will make a decision to cancel their fiction line, sinking your books like the Titanic. Think it can’t happen? Publisher Broadman & Holman just did that very thing.

People ask me all the time how to know if they’re really a writer. Here’s the test I give them: Stop writing. If, during the month that follows, you haven’t gone back to your computer to jot down an idea or refine a paragraph in a work-in-progress, you may not be serious about writing. But if you do find yourself doing those things, if you find that you can’t not write, then congratulations. You’re a writer. You may never get a publishing contract, but if you do, hang on. The fun is just beginning.

*        *        *

Dr. Richard Mabry is a retired physician, past Vice-President of the American Christian Fiction Writers, and the author of five published novels of medical suspense. His books have been finalists in competitions including ACFW’s Carol Award and Romantic Times’ Inspirational Book of the Year. His novel, Lethal Remedy, won a 2012 Selah Award from the Blue Ridge Mountain Christian Writers Conference. His most recent medical thriller, Stress Test (Thomas Nelson), was released in April, and will be followed by Heart Failure in October.

You can learn more about Richard at his website: rmabry.com. He can be found on GoodReads, Twitter, and his Facebook fan page is “rmabrybooks.”

Noone saw the deadly crash in the canyon on that gray October morning. The weather was strange, an out-of-season sprinkle from the coastal fog drifting inland. Soggy hitch­hikers huddling under the umbrella of an ancient oak tree were the last to see the black SUV as it hydroplaned past them into the Santa Monica Mountains. A muffled bass beat trailed as it climbed the winding lane, up and around the evergreen scrub, until it disap­peared in the forest crowning the coastal range. A mile farther, at the lovers’ lookout above the vast checkerboard of Valley streets, tire tracks puddled with mud were the only signs of human life.

As the headlights tunneled into the mist, no one noticed how the worn wipers flailed at the thrumming rain, how they blocked the bird’s-eye view of the gorge that inspired the Tongva name “Topanga,” a place above. No one could testify how the engine groaned as it climbed that ear-popping stretch of sacred land. Or how the vehicle veered around the dizzying curve, spraying water over the edge of the rocky cliff.

When a coyote streaked past to scale the hillside, the bumper dipped into a flooded pothole. Bright headlights bobbed across a plywood peace sign, then lit a tall pole flying a plaster pig toward heaven. A few yards farther, the beams flashed across the ruins of a legendary roadhouse like the spotlights of decades past. Echoes of Arlo Guthrie and Neil Young lingered in the air, but it was Jim Morrison’s tribute that haunted the highway beyond. “Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel…Let it roll, baby, roll.”

The Explorer dove off the cliff. Airborne, the bass boomed louder and reverberated across the canyon, accompanying a chorus of screams. It crashed against a scrubby ledge, then spun through the shower of pine needles, shredded branches and shards of broken grill, hurtling down, down, down, ribs snapping against the steering wheel, head splitting on the dashboard, music still blaring until the SUV smashed against the rock wall, shearing off the side mirror, shattering the window, shooting out into the ravine where the chassis flipped. The car exploded into the creek bed, airbags popping, bones cracking, flesh tearing, as the two ton cage of steel folded like origami into the mud.

Raindrops fell.

When the sky cleared, the canyon Cub Scout troop began its weekly hike. They wandered out from the willows lining the flooded creek as the last plumes of smoke rose from the smoldering wreckage. Crows hidden in the hillside canopy flew out in a dark feathered cloud. A rabbit burrowed into his den beneath a steaming puddle of blood. Soon, sirens wailed in the distance.

By afternoon, the muddy canyon was clogged with emergency vehicles. The sky pulsed with the thwack-thwack-thwack of news helicopters circling for a story. Reporters soon pieced together the who, what, when, and where. But no one could explain the why. The only witness was trapped inside.

 To read more,  go to…

http://www.leslielehr.com/what-a-mother-knows/sample-chapters.html

Do you remember the movie, Brigadoon? Gene Kelly is a New Yorker who goes to Scotland and falls in love with a beautiful woman in a Scottish hamlet. The catch is that this idyllic town only appears out of the mist for one day every hundred years. For me, that’s New Orleans.

My first visit was like a fairy tale, when The Pirates Alley Faulkner Society flew me in to receive an award for Best Novella.  As a young mother who wrote during naptime in suburban Los Angeles, the allure of New Orleans was as great as the recognition for my writing. Trying to translate the patois of the cabdriver felt like being in a foreign land. When we approached the French Quarter, the mist parted as if in a dream.

Ensconced in a Penthouse overlooking the river, I snacked on pralines then fell asleep bruised from pinching myself. The next morning I walked over to the French Quarter on narrow streets right out of a storybook. The humidity that made my clothes stick to my skin also fed the vines climbing the trellises of the balconies above me. The colors of the slim houses were like a rainbow I had never seen in the sky. The smells of jambalaya and the allure of jazz around every corner were like a circus for the senses. I counted five antique stores on one block. I fell in love.

The moment I stepped inside the elegant Hotel Monteleone where the Words & Music Conference was being held, the wind rose up behind me as if a spell had been broken. Sirens split the air to announce the arrival of Hurricane Georges. The city was on order to evacuate.

Within minutes, store owners were boarding up windows and tourists were hailing cabs. I ran to Faulkner House Books to leave my manuscript for Joe deSalvo and Rosemary James, who ran the conference. When I tried to leave, the door was locked. I screamed in panic until a neighbor rescued me. I ran back to my hotel where local residents were moving in. The taxis were gone, so I hitched a ride in the last car out. As my airplane lifted off into the sky, they closed the airport.

When I returned a year later, the penthouse was taken. But I was the lucky winner, having returned to meet my new agent and my editor from Random House. My high heels echoed across the cobblestones as I scurried between jazz concerts and poetry readings, scholarly panels and gourmet restaurants.  It was thrilling to meet so many members of the glittering southern literati.

On stage in a grand old theater, I finally received my gold medal. I burst into tears. The judge took me for a mint Julep, then we strolled to the formal reception held in a spooky church courtyard. A fortune-teller studied my hand and smiled as the mist rose up. At dawn, I flew back to my children and watched the city disappear behind me.

Now I have a new novel, What A Mother Knows, to share with those benevolent folks who launched my career. The next conference is just around the corner. I can’t wait to see my Brigadoon rise from the mist. And like Gene Kelly, I may never leave.

That’s the question that inspired me to write What a Mother Knows. It started when my daughter was crying at night and I feared the worst. I didn’t know what to do, or how to help her. This book offers an answer to that question, one that every mother asks.

On these pages you’ll find Special Features, including Pinterest character boards and an interactive map, reviews, excerpts, and aBook Club Bonus section with discussion questions, party menus, and a playlist.

You’ll find links to my Blog Tour, reviews on Goodreads, and information on upcoming events.  You can also contact me about a Skype Visit or to request a personalized bookplate.

I am also a blogger over at The Huffington Post. You can read my latest blog entry about what I know as a mother and how it shaped my new release What A Mother Knows.

SYNOPSIS

How far will a mother go to protect her child?

An unsettling, emotional and suspenseful novel of the unshakable bonds of motherhood, in which Michelle Mason not only loses her memory after a deadly car crash, but can’t find her 16-year-old daughter, the one person who may know what happened that day. But the deeper Michelle digs, the more she questions the innocence of everyone, even herself. A dramatic portrayal of the fragile skin of memory, What a Mother Knows is about finding the truth that can set love free.

COME BACK TOMORROW…LESLIE IS SHARING THE PROLOGUE OF HER POWERFUL AND POIGNANT NOVEL