I have absolutely no fashion sense. I know what I like and I usually wear what I like despite fashion, sex appeal, or Labor Day rules.

I am a Wrangler girl. Or, a Levi Strauss girl. Both brands were bought from Wiener’s Department store.

Jeans were my choice of apparel because more could be done in jeans. It didn’t matter if you were running, or jumping, or climbing, or hanging upside down because nothing “unmentionable” could be seen and denim was allowed to be dirty or ripped.

I didn’t particularly care for dresses.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I loved dresses that twirled. If they were “plain jane” what was the point in wearing them? I didn’t turn any more heads in those dresses than I did in my Wranglers or Levi’s.




There was one more plus to wearing jeans…

I could wear my favorite shirt. It was pink.

I know, shocking! My favorite shirt was pink!

But, I didn’t care about the color since the quote written on the shirt summed up my whole attitude, reason for living, and belief system.

People would see me coming and know EXACTLY what I was about. It gave me leave to prove it as well, which I did regularly.

So, exactly what was the quote on my shirt you ask?

“ANYTHING BOYS CAN DO, GIRLS CAN DO BETTER!”

Score for me, for girls everywhere, and for my mother who had the sense to buy it for me.

I was a young girl when I read this book for the first time. I can't remember how old. I do remember loving every word that graced the page. I could see myself and my sisters in each one of those girls.

Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy.

I wanted to play with them. I wanted an attic, to put on plays, to laugh and laugh and laugh until I couldn't stand it.

And I wanted a friend like Laurie. A good person who seemed to like spending time with me even though I was a girl.

I would have to say I did have a friend like that. His name was Michael, and I had a huge crush on him. Not only did he let me play, but he didn't get mad when I won. He was blond and blue-eyed. Pretty near perfect in my opinion.



Little Women taught me a lot. How to be brave and fearless, and what true strength is.

Beth's path astounded me. Often overlooked. Having to encounter her fears on a more regular basis than anyone else. And she had to fight death. I couldn't believe it, and I wanted to jump inside the pages and punch the illness inflicting her.

When she took her last breath, my heart broke and that's when I knew life was precious. That's when I understood that things changed, people grew up and wouldn't stay seven-years-old forever. That's when I started looking forward....

I understood, before my peers, that adulthood would happen, that the decisions I made now would matter when I was older. And this knowledge helped me combat peer pressure and other things that would try to influence me to be different than who I wanted to be. I grew determined to have the future I wanted. I refused to lose faith and give in to who my peers thought I should be.

Isn't it amazing that a book can do that? I'm extremely thankful for Little Women. I've loved it for forever, and I'll never forget what it did for me.

Do you have a book that formed your decisions? Please share in the comments!

Febrile Convulsions…

That was what the doctor called them. Those tremors my brother had.

I didn’t know that as a child, of course. My next memory of Bill and his health dealt with the giving of his medicine. (In a teaspoon of applesauce.)



I do know, that after that day, I was more by his side than ever before. I wasn’t waiting for something to happen again. I wasn’t scared.

I was soaking up him. Because, in my six-year-old mind, Bill was fine. He was smiling and playing and doing all the things he used to do. I thought it was all over, and I wasn’t going to waste a second.

But, it wasn’t. He continued to have seizures until he was two. Grace went with my mom for some of his doctor visits and Mom told me the Febrile Convulsions may not be the root of the problem.

He might have an immature brain stem. It would develop over time, but there was no telling what it would do to him in the long run.

It is important to tell you that I didn’t know about the brain stem concern until I was 13. Mom also told me, at that time, that the doctors said he wouldn’t be able to walk or talk.

But, the only effects I saw from those horrible tremors was a boy who concentrated really, really hard on crawling, and climbing, and walking, and talking.

If he hadn’t been so determined maybe it wouldn’t have happened. And, of course it didn’t happen the normal way. The walking, the talking…it all has its own story.

People called this his struggle and his triumph.

And, I might agree with them…but I think it was harder to grow up with four women in the house…

An excerpt from Welcome Home:

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me. I’ve desperately wanted to tell you what happened for so long, and I never thought I’d get the chance.” She looked at him, and he saw the torture she’d gone through by having to keep the truth from him.

Sweat gathered at his temples.

She began slowly, stumbling over her words. “H-he made threats to me,” she rasped.

Kyle straightened. “Threats?” he growled.

She took a deep breath and put a hand over her heart.

He knew it was pounding as hard as his.

“He t-told me that if I told the sheriff what Michael had said…he’d k-kill you.”

Kyle stared at her, shocked and horrified. His breathing was fast and shallow, his heart pounding in his ears. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and his hate for Owen Prescott was made stronger for the hell he’d caused his daughter.

“I didn’t know what to do,” she cried. “I couldn’t let him do to you what he’d done to Michael. I couldn’t have borne it if you’d d-died.” She swallowed and choked on a sob. “So, yes, I lied to Sheriff Cummings. I helped my father go free because I would’ve died if anything happened to you.” She cried in earnest now, looking at him, the expression in her eyes conveying her hate for her weakness. She laid her arms on the table and placed her forehead on her wrists, her shoulders shaking in grief.

Kyle’s head swam; his gut churned with emotion. How could he have been so blind?

Saving Sarah
Prelude to the Pike's Run Series

The story of Michael and Sarah gets us started with the Pike's Run series, but it actually takes place in North Carolina. The majority of the books in the series are set in Texas. The Lonnigan family moves after their parents pass away. There are four siblings: Sean, Michael, Daniel and Bonnie.

Irish Catholics who follow a path many Irish did by settling first in the Carolinas, and then moving to Texas for cheaper land.

But before the Lonnigan family leaves, Michael falls in love with Sarah Kerry, and just as their budding courtship deepens to love, Sarah breaks it off. Michael is hurt and confused, and his gut tells him something isn't right. He doesn't believe Sarah when she tells him that she doesn't love him.

While Sarah says the words necessary to dissolve her relationship with Michael, it takes all her strength to do so. She's been backed into a corner by a family secret she had no idea existed. The only way to save her father is to follow the demands of Liam Devlin. Even if it kills her to do so.

I enjoyed writing this book, because we experience the beginning of the Lonnigan family saga. The plot is also very simple, but causes great havoc and upheaval in Michael and Sarah's lives. A family secret that can tear people apart...

But luckily Michael refuses to give up, and Sarah finds the courage she needs to fight back.

Favorite Part:

I have two. I know, I know. I should've been discerning enough to pick only one, but I can't. Y'all have pity on me...

My most favorite part is when Sarah makes a pivotal decision and confronts her fears. (And I can't tell you more than that because it'll give away some stuff.)

The second is when Michael is walking with Liam Devlin to his cabin. That's pretty awesome. I can't even tell you how much fun I had writing that.

An Excerpt:

“You always look at me like that, Michael,” she whispered. She could feel his eyes on her. They seared her with intent and heat. It was as if he branded her with his determination.

“In what way?” he asked, his voice pitched low.

Her pulse raced. “Like you’re gazing deep inside me.”

He took a moment before replying, and when he did, his voice was hard and firm. “I can see your heart, Sarah Kerry. And it’s mine.”

Her breath caught in her chest. She whipped around as her skin tingled from the possessiveness and rightness of his words. Her heart did belong to him, but it didn’t matter. It could never be.

The river rushed before her, strong and free. What she wouldn’t give for the ability to run unchained, to grab the happiness she wanted and never look back. She exhaled deeply and closed her eyes.

Michael Lonnigan stepped closer, the warmth of his solid frame seeping into her. “Tell me,” he urged. “Who is the man who stalks your every step?”

As she looked up, an image of her predator flashed before her. “He is…no one.”

“No one?” His voice grated on the phrase. “He had his arm around your waist in church today.”

She clenched her teeth, keeping the bile down as the memory of his touch plagued her.

“If I didn’t know your true feelings,” Michael continued, “if I hadn’t seen you step away from him, I’d think you didn’t love me.”

Perhaps she should deny her feelings for Michael. But as quickly as she conjured the thought, she discarded it. He would know she lied to him.

His hands came up to rest on her shoulders. “Tell me who stands between us. Why have you turned away from me and gone to him?” he begged, his tone rough and seared with pain.

She ached to tell him, to lay her burdens at his feet, but no one could know her family’s shame and peril. To confess her hell would be to betray her father, and she couldn’t do that. “Please,” she urged, her voice wavering, “you must let it alone. We can’t be together anymore.”

He gripped her tighter, pulling her back against his chest. She allowed the intimate embrace, needing his touch, for it was her life’s blood. He ran his hands down her arms and circled her waist. As he buried his face in the crook of her neck, he breathed in deeply.

Yearning centered inside her, making her heart pound. One month of precious courtship, thirty days of happiness, thirty nights of sweet longing, gone now. Obliterated by her dead mother’s hand.

Michael Lonnigan, the man of her heart, could never be hers. Tall, broad shouldered, dark haired, brown eyed and with a smile true and honest, he would not belong to her. She had to leave him, to set him free. It would kill her to do so.

His arms tightened so firmly, she feared he might carry her off. Pushing at his forearms, she yanked herself from his solid hold. “I have to go.” Her knees shook as she took the necessary steps away from him.

“I can’t accept this,” he called after her as she walked swiftly down the path through the swaying pine trees. “I can’t let you go.”

Tears formed in her eyes.

“I love you, Sarah,” he cried.

Sobs clutched her chest as she picked up the pace, branches snagging at her skirt. Her life had been ruined, her dream crushed, and her sweet love could do nothing about it.

Being one of those weird book people who sees characters as friends, I have to spend one day a week talking about my favorites.

We'll start with Kyle Lonnigan in Welcome Home, the first full-length novel in my Pike's Run series.

I wrote a stubborn, passionate, family-oriented guy who sticks to his guns and cares so much about those he loves, he almost loses the woman of his heart. There's a lot of emotion and tension in Welcome Home, created by Kyle's heartache.

He has to learn how to come through the grief of losing his father. And of course, he has no idea what he really needs until Emma shows up.

Two years prior, she was the woman he'd fallen head over boots for, but then she tells a lie that rips him apart.

I enjoyed revealing Kyle's layers and getting him back to the trickster, happy fellow he was before his father's death. I really didn't realize what I was getting into when I wrote Kyle, because his anger was truly formidable.

Thankfully, Emma turned out to be pretty stubborn herself. She refuses to give up on him and confronts his fury with all the love she has for him.

Kyle is my first hero. I wrote and wrote and wrote until I learned who he was. And what I found was a fiercely loyal gentleman who would do anything for those he loves. I'm proud of him, even though there were moments where I wanted to punch him.

Emma really should've punched him, but for some reason I can't explain, she didn't. Maybe because she knew his fury hid a lot of pain?

Probably.

Kyle made my heart go pitter patter, especially when he finally gets down on one knee. I was in tears by then. His longing and need for Emma made the pages in Welcome Home turn, and I wanted so much for him to forgive and let go.

I'm happy to say he's had an appearance or, at the very least, a mention in each book in my series. Kyle and Emma started it all, and I'm pleased with their performance.

Here's an excerpt for you:

Cool air brushed over Kyle as he stood outside and away from the dancing. When Emma had walked in, the barn had suddenly become too confining and he had to get out. He lost count of how many reels he’d missed as he leaned against the outside wall of the barn. All he could think about was her and the way she looked with her lavender dress, soft hair, vibrant eyes, dazzling smile…

She was femininity in all its glory. Kyle closed his eyes and recalled the last time he’d seen her as beautiful as she was tonight. Her dress had been much fancier, much more expensive.

Her hair had been more elaborately styled, and her eyes had been full of desperation…need. A need for him. A need for his love.

That night, all of society had been at her father’s house, drinking, dancing and showing off their money. But it had been just the two of them outside, standing in the moonlight, the scent of roses wafting around them. His hands had been at her waist, while hers were wound around the back of his neck.

He still felt her, even after two years.

There are  places in Texas that look like a scene from a fairy tale. These spots will prove to you that Heaven on Earth is possible.

In the Spring, the heart of Texas gets covered in wild flowers. It's a riot of color. They follow the roads, curl over the hills and hug the fence posts. I can't begin to tell you how beautiful it is, and the pictures I post won't do it justice.

If you ever want to visit Texas, come in early April and make sure you spend time in the Hill Country. You won't be disappointed.

There are a lot more. Sunflowers, daisies, thistles, blue-eyed grass....

But I can't talk about all of them. No matter how much I might want to. Texas Wildflowers have been some of my favorite things since I was five. I wait desperately each Spring for them to appear. People call me and tell me how good the season was.

If you're interested, and want to learn more, you can visit the Texas Wildseed Farm. They do God's work there.

To tide you over, because it's only January, here's a picture...

Is there somewhere, some time, that is like Heaven for you? Fairy tale scenes are everywhere, and I promise if you look, you'll fine one!

I have a star on my hand. It has been drawn with blue marker, only my skin has turned it to sort of a bluish-green.

My teacher put it there.

I know she drew it on my hand because I had a good day and this was her way of communicating that to my mother.

I wasn’t that impressed with the prize, especially when I had no idea what I had done to deserve it.

I suppose I hadn’t yelled at anyone that day. I distinctly remember one instance when I told a group of girls, “You think you’re just so smart because you’re in Ms. Otto’s class!”.

They looked at me like I’d grown two heads. But, what ELSE do you say to girls who flock together and don’t let anyone else into their group?

Mean girls…

Cute hair, cute ribbons, cute clothes, cute dimples…

I did not fit in.

I didn’t really want to, though. I didn’t have any desire to play dolls, or house at recess, which is what they did. I preferred to play with the boys. Dodge ball, kickball, tag, etc.

Much better.

Though the boys never excluded me, I knew I was doing the "wrong" thing. Boys weren't going to invite me to slumber parties, or skating parties, or ask me to sit with them at lunch.

I understood that I didn't really fit in most places. My teacher had issues with me, the girls avoided me, the boys tolerated me...I knew this.

Then, one day, I got an admirer all my own...

In my wranglers and button down shirt, I walked up to the librarian and said in a very proper tone because he was the librarian, “Excuse me, but would you have any books by Rudyard Kipling?”.

After he survived his heart attack at hearing that come out of the mouth of a first grader, I became the twinkle in his eye. He didn't need me to be a boy, or wear ribbons, or listen.

I was fine just as I was.