Author Spotlight - Excerpt from Powerline

The seated draftee, currently senior deacon Ed McCaskey, began jeering at the men. Ball after ball failed to dunk him. "Hey, everybody, I'm still dry up here. Isn't any of you man enough to drop a tired old beanpole like me?"

"Pick any of these. They'll get you yet," Andie said.

"You said it, lady." Kevin's eyes narrowed into a steely glare. He took aim and made a huge powerful throw, missing the target by a hair.

"Not even close, farm boy," yelled the deacon. "This target's practically the broad side of a barn. Come on, turkeys. Isn't there one among you with any--"

Jeff cut him off. "We haven't sent in our strongest player yet." He backed up to where Cassie stood sipping lemonade. With a gleam in his eyes, and a courtly bow from the waist, he offered her a ball. "How about it? Relief pitcher?"

She laughed aloud, flushing with embarrassment and a peculiar twist of pleasure. "The relief accepts the challenge." In a deliberate manner, drawing out the suspense, she handed her lemonade to Pam, and accepted the ball from Jeff. Their fingers met, and he clung to her touch for a moment. That strange electric thrill happened, the one she felt each time his skin made contact with hers. Cassie frowned with a studious air as if gauging her throw, and stepped up to the line. "You're in trouble now, Ed," she informed the deacon politely.

He gave an airy wave off gesture with one hand. "You're too little to move that ball half this distance."

"Get him," yelled her friends. "Make it count, Cassie!"

She judged the distance, biting her lip as if concentrating. "This is for the youth ministry," she said, enjoying her moment.

"Powerline, Kids' Clubs, and the Sunday school. All worthy causes."

"Come on, Cassie!"

"You can do it!"

"Let him have it, girl!"

She wound up her best sandlot pitch and let fly. A huge splash dropped the deacon abruptly into the inky depths. Ed came up sputtering, wiping his face down. "Well," he called, "I'm cooled off now, by golly."

Cassie laughed in excitement. The day seemed charged with enjoyment and good fun. She accepted her tiny animal prize with pleasure from the attendant. It was a four-inch tall stuffed eagle. Isaiah 40:31. They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. You promised, Lord. Let us always remember to wait on You. She turned to Jeff, gravely handing him the toy with a little flourish. "I hereby present the turkey prize," she announced to their laughing friends, "to the turkey who put me up to this -- Jeff Hadley."

He burst out in an unrestrained, infectious laugh, a warning look in his eyes. Cassie knew he'd pay her back later. "It's an eagle, not a turkey. What do they teach farm girls these days? Can't you tell the difference?" He stuffed it into his pocket as the laughing group moved on to the next stall.

"You're a good sport." The group moved on to the face-painting booth with the eager children. Cassie declined, not liking the feel of tempera on her skin, but watched as Melinda, Pam and Vera's girls all acquired pseudo-tattoos. "Neat," enthused Heather, Vera's twelve-year-old.

Amber, age four, rubbed at hers, afraid it might be permanent. Jeff scooped the giggling child onto his shoulders.
"Will it come off, Jeppie?" she asked plaintively.

"Sure it will, sweets. Just give it a good scrub-a-dub in the tub." He tickled the child. Cassie beamed, a step behind and out of sight. She thought of Leon's nieces, or of cousin Santiago and his daughter Amalia. Jeff was good with kids, like the men of her own family. He'd fit in with them. They'd like him, everybody would. He was a people person, like the folks she'd grown up with. Even Abuelita would take to him like a Cuban to picadillo.

On the spot she decided that Jeff was a prize, the pearl beyond price the Word spoke of. If he was crazy enough to want her, she'd spend the rest of her life giving to this man. He'd been tested, gone through the fire. He'd lost his wife. But Cass was here, and there was a plan for their lives, the two of them together.

Funny, thought I was getting pretty tuned in, pretty spiritual. But Jeff saw it way before I caught a glimmer. He sensed we belong together. Glad he didn't give up on me. Thank You, God. I asked You to give me a love for him that I couldn't mistake. And that's exactly what You did.

Author Spotlight - Deborah Kinnard dares to fly

Lately we’ve heard about authors in the general fiction market and some genre markets turning down large advances in order to take their stories direct to the readers. Yes, that’s right – the bad child of the industry, self-publishing, is growing up. Barry Eisler turned down a six-figure advance to self-publish. Joe Konrath has been trumpeting the advantages of direct-to-reader publishing for years now.

It’s easier now to self-publish, and from some blogs lately I’ve sensed that it’s both more lucrative for the writer and more risky. Read Kiana Davenport’s blog to see her take on the risks.

So has the Christian romance market embraced this brave new world? Not so much. We’ve been led to believe for a long while that the publishers are the gatekeepers, the patrones who watch over us all and make sure we don’t get our hands on bad fiction. For that matter, even edgy fiction…

Do I have answers for a writers who want to dip a toe into this edgy new market? No. I’m happy with my publishers, though frustrated at times that the market doesn’t provide much of what I like best to read. I salute those authors who have sufficient following to try this approach. What the markets will look like five years from now, or even two, I’d need a crystal ball to say.

Whatever shape it takes – more out of the box fiction, please!

Author Spotlight - Q&A with Deborah Kinnard

DEB: A little about POWERLINE: the book grew out of my own experiences as a crisis line volunteer back a few years. Since it was run from a secular, humanistic mindset, we weren't allowed to point people toward Christ or indeed faith of any type. I started playing with what might happen if a crisis line was set up the other way--and encouraged its volunteers to counsel the callers with the love of God. POWERLINE grew out of that, and I think my volunteer did a pretty good job.

STEPH: How long did it take you to write PL?

DEB: In several drafts, it took almost three years. I showed it in an early incarnation to a friend who writes and sells screenplays, and she liked it enough to show it to a friend. Once they were done, they wrote me a note saying, "If you fix these six major problems and 60 minor problems, we think it's marketable." It went on to be the first book I sold. I'm honored that Desert Breeze chose to reissue it.

STEPH: Do you cast your characters? If so, who are the leads?

DEB: I never have. I prefer to visualize them as they take shape in my mind, and let my readers do the same as they read. Although I think Cassie does look a tad bit like I might've looked as a young twenties. She's prettier, though.

STEPH: How long have you been writing?


DEB: Non-seriously, since age 10. Seriously, since the late 80s. I first sold in 2002, so I guess I'm a 40 year overnight success.

STEPH: Are you a plotter or a panster? Totally, 110% pantser.

DEB: I rarely plot anything out beforehand. I prefer to write "character-driven" fiction, and the characters don't always tell me what they're up to. The one time I tried to outline, the book bogged down and still isn't finished.

STEPH: Do you have an ebook reader? If so, which one?

DEB: I don't ... but family, if you're listening, Christmas IS coming!

STEPH: What was the last novel you read?

DEB: I've been writing so much, I can't think of the last one I picked up and then finished! LOL. I'm currently reading Laurie Alice Eakes' print book LADY IN THE MIST. But since I'm heavily in rewrites on another project, I can't honestly say I'm diligent about reading for pleasure just now.