Author Interview tonight: a chronically ill award-winning author, a working single mom, and a college student...

On "Speak UP!" with Scott McCausey of ChristianDevotions.com: Tuesday, March 28th at 6:00 p.m. Eastern time/5:00 p.m. Central time, Linnette R Mullin - author of life-changing romance and the award-winning novel "Finding Beth," will be interviewed on blog-talk radio! God is doing some amazing things in our resident author's life, so tune in for the interview tonight. 

Click here for the link!

If you can't listen to the live broadcast, no worries! The link will remain up for you to listen at your leisure. Either way, tune in! You're not going to want to miss it! Linnette talks a bit about her childhood, teen years, early adulthood and what led her to where she is now - a chronically ill award-winning author, a working single mom, and a college student. (Click here.)

Leave a comment here or on her Facebook wall telling what you found most interesting about her interview and your name will be entered into a drawing for a bookmark and an autographed copy of "Finding Beth." Please be sure to leave your email address, as well, in case you win!

Linnette R Mullin
Author of Life-changing Romance
Award-winning novel, "Finding Beth"
Freelance Writer
Mother of four amazing sons!
College Student
and more.....

Laura Frantz, Author @ Friday with Friends!

Please welcome author 

Laura Frantz to Friday with Friends!

What a pleasure it is to have Laura Frantz with us today! She has a new book releasing this September called "Love's Awakening" and she's sharing a deleted scene from Love's Reckoning which will lead into the new book.

Deleted Scene/Love’s Reckoning

Forty-Five

A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.

JOHN KEATS

          The hotel foyer was hushed, the clerk a bit wide-eyed as they came in. Silas paused at the desk, Eden alongside him. She glanced up the carpeted stairs, her breathing shallow. Had it only been hours ago she’d come down from her room, never daring to hope she’d return a bride? Her cheeks, stained from the heat of his kisses, had hardly cooled. Her tumbled thoughts stretched to their wedding day on the morrow. What, then?

            “Have you ne’er kissed a lass these eight years past?” she’d teased when he’d taken her in his arms again in the carriage.

He’d laughed – a low rumble in his throat – not bothering to answer.

            Now at the desk she marveled he was so composed when she was so…not.

“I’d like Miss Lee to be moved to the bridal suite, if you will,” he said quietly to the clerk as another couple came in.

            “Of course,” came the obliging reply. “Anything else, sir?”

            “Aye, fill the room with flowers as befitting Mistress Ballantyne.” The clerk turned away with a smile when Silas said, “Roses, I’m thinking. From the King’s Garden.”

            Eden felt a delight clear to her toes. “Are you trying to bribe me, Mr. Ballantyne? Afraid I’ll change my mind?”

            He could hardly check a grin. “Mayhap, Miss Lee…”

            The clerk returned with a skeleton key which Silas grasped with alacrity, eyes on Eden. “Can I show you to your suite?”

            “Our suite, you mean,” she whispered.

            He took her by the elbow and propelled her up the carpeted stairs. “How early can this wedding be?”

            She smiled, wishing he’d kiss her again, loving the unfamiliar, thrilling feel of him. “Best ask Reverend Herron, though I’m partial to mornings myself.”

            “Aye, the earlier the better. That way I can be back at the boatyard by noon.”

            She laughed, turning to him on the landing, thinking how good a little levity felt. “Tomorrow is mine, Silas Ballantyne. I’ll not let some old sloop woo you away from me. Not on our wedding day. Or night.”

            He framed her face with his hands, his eyes dark with purpose. “I’ll wager I’ll not come out of the bridal suite a week.” His mouth brushed hers, sweetly-rough. She felt the beat of his heart, his banked desire. “Och, Eden. I don’t know if I’ll last through this night.”

            She was dizzy with elation, nearly shaking. He left goosebumps at his every touch…

            “Well, well. Things seem to have taken a turn for the better.”

            They pulled apart, faces flushed yet hands still touching. Stephen Elliot was in back of them, coming up the steps, a look of undisguised pleasure overriding his surprise. “Miss Lee, when I last saw you, you were contemplating a ride out the Allegheny River road. I had no idea what would become of your foray.”

            Silas smiled. “Mr. Elliot, allow me to introduce my bride-to-be, Miss Eden Lee, no longer of Philadelphia but Pittsburgh.”

            Stephen swept off his hat and bowed. “So it’s to be Mr. and Mrs. Silas Ballantyne at long last?”

            “On the morrow, else I can persuade her sooner.”

            “Well, I’ll leave you to your persuading then.” With a wink, he turned and disappeared down the steps as quickly as he’d come up.

            In the gentle flicker of the sconce affixed to one paneled wall, Silas took her in his arms again, trailing hungry kisses from her ear to the soft curve of her neck, her sigh of pleasure a promise of the joys to come.

Tomorrow would come none too soon…

           

Well, folks, did that whet your appetite? Be sure to look for "Love's Awakening" this September! I believe Laura plans to be around to answer comments and questions, so be sure to leave them.

Novelist Laura Frantz, was born into a family who followed the legendary frontiersman, Daniel Boone, to Kentucky during the turbulent 18th-century and still resides there today. Passionate about all things historical, she writes her manuscripts in longhand first. Her stories often incorporate Celtic themes. Her family lineage is Scottish, English, and Irish.

According to Publishers Weekly, "Frantz has done her historical homework." She is known for the depth of her characterization and research. The author is represented by Janet Kobobel Grant, Literary Agent & Founder, Books & Such Literary Agency of Santa Rosa, California.

You may find Laura on at LauraFrantz.net, Facebook, and Pinterest. Happy Reading!

Angela Meyer at Friday with Friends!

Friday with Friends welcomes fellow 

CrossRiver Media author, 

Angela Meyer!

The Chosen Bride

Prologue

                                                                                                                                    

Seven  years after the great war, King Alden still rules Iashanda.

 A savage disease ravages the land. They call it the Dark Rogue.

In order to exile this death, King Alden has ordered a purge.

Simon Howden

The fire raged, hungry flames consuming the diseased bodies thrown into its belly. The stench of burning flesh joined the sweet scent of blooming magnolias. The wind shifted and the death stench enveloped Edan where he stood guard out of reach of the fire’s heat.  He turned away and emptied his stomach onto the grass. “Drat this disease.” He wiped his mouth and returned to his watch duty.

The Dark Rogue invaded the land as sure as Hadar’s army invaded and destroyed it seven years previous. Despite measures to eradicate the sickness, the infection traveled from the port cities near Mariguth to the eastern interior near Vanbolth.

King Alden fought for the people during the war with Hadar and he fought for the people now. By royal decree, soldiers moved across the land, purging it of this ravenous disease. Village by village, the healthy were evacuated from their homes, the dead burned, villages razed. 

The soldiers on this mission knew this tour of duty was likely a death sentence. Their responsibilities required them to be surrounded by death on all sides. They handled death. They breathed death. And death would claim many of them.

Most of the soldiers ignored the villager’s pain as they ignored their own fears. Edan chose compassion. He offered comfort to the survivors and tried to alleviate fears where he could. Encouraging them to hope beyond the death. Many night’s his sleeping pallet was filled with more tears than sleep as he anguished over their pain.

As lieutenant of this regiment. he heard the grumblings of the men under him. He understood, but wished they would carry the King’s heart into this matter. It would take the country working together, caring for one another to rebuild.

Today was the tenth week of the march. They neared the end of the purge. Then the troops would return to Elrad and wait out their own quarantine. Once proven healthy, they could return to their homes.

Edan watched the villagers throw the diseased bodies of loved ones on the flames. Some of them collapsed on the spot or wailed in their pain as they watched the burning. Others simply left, their bodies speaking sorrow as they bent over as though under a heavy load. 

Edan looked up the short rise on the western edge of the village where his childhood friend, commander of the regiment stood, a hardened expression on his face. A once jovial man he joined the throngs of those carrying the burden of anger over lost loved ones just before this mission started.

Tom Curtis

Edan pinched the bridge of his nose. He longed to see his wife to assure himself that she survived this plague. A commotion among some villagers passing by yanked Edan’s attention back to the present. A child of no more than 10 years screamed and fought against their hands as they held her back from the flames.

Edan  approached and the villagers released her. She crumpled to the ground, wrapping her arms around herself and rocking back and forth as she wailed in symphony with the roar of the fire.

“Who does this child belong to?” He grabbed the arm of a retreating villager.

The man shrugged off Edan’s hand. “How should I know?”

Edan held out his hand to the others inching away. “Won’t one of you take care of her?”

One woman paused, tears streaming down her face. “We’ve taken care of enough death for a life time.”  She turned to go.

“She’s not dead. She’s a child.” Edan yelled at the people backing away.   

The woman stopped. “Check the east quadrant of the village. I recall seeing her there.”

Edan shook his head. How could they have so little regard for a child left to fend for herself? He knelt and touched the girl’s shoulder. The wailing stopped but she continued to rock as though to the beat of some imaginary dirge sung for those she lost.

“Edan, what’s going on? We raze the village in two hours.” The commander’s voice rose above the wailing villagers, chasing off  those still watching.

Edan took a deep breath and stood up to face his commander. “I think her family was the last to be burned. No one has stepped forward to claim her. ”

The commander looked away. “That’s no concern of ours. Send her away.”

Edan took a step back at the edge in his commander’s voice. “Where to?”

The commander’s lips pinched together and his nostrils flared. “It doesn’t matter.” He pivoted and started to leave.

Edan placed a hand on his friend’s arm. “Let me try and find someone who will take her in. She’ll die out here alone.”

His commander turned and glared at Edan.  “We may be friends outside of the army, but here I am in command. Send her away.”

Edan sucked in his breath at the force of his friend’s words.  “Don’t let your own grief harden your heart. Remember King Alden’s instructions to enable every survivor the opportunity for  a new life.”

            The commander took a step toward Edan. “Don’t tell me how to conduct this purge.”

            Edan stood toe to toe with his commander, meeting his glare. “Would you deny her a future family because you miss your own? What report will you give to King Alden regarding this child?”

His friend raked a hand through his hair and looked off into the distance where the setting sun lit up the sky. “You’re right. Every time I look into the flames, I see my own family.” He cursed and faced Edan . “Very well. This child will have a new start. Take care of it.”

Click here for Chapter One, each subsequent chapter is listed in the categories box on the right hand sidebar. Enjoy. 

Angela D. Meyer has always enjoyed a good story, so it didn’t take long for her to start creating them in her head. The path to writing them down meandered its way through journal entries full of poetry to children’s stories, devotionals and now novels. She awaits the release of her debut novel, Bruised Reed, summer 2013 and is currently participating in the A to Z challenge on her website. She lives in Omaha, Nebraska with her husband and 2 children whom they home school. Some of her favorite things include the ocean, good stories, connecting with friends, taking pictures, quiet evenings and a good laugh. Someday she wants to ride in a hot air balloon and vacation by the sea.

Connect with Angela at www.angeladmeyer.com

Kathy Nickerson at Friday with Friends!

Friday with Friends welcomes CrossRiver Media 

Author, Kathy Nickerson!

Audrey Ann

            She sat in the bus station and felt the cold weight in her pocket. She should never have taken it, of course. Her mother had raised her better than that. But Mrs. Caldicott had been especially difficult all morning. She had insisted the tea be stirred just so, and she had complained that the biscuits were too dry. One minute she wanted the window open for her health and the next minute she wanted it closed because the hydrangea bush made her sneeze.

            Audrey Ann had worked all morning polishing a drawer of silver and catering to various whims. Somewhere around midday, she looked up from the yawning drawer and stretched. She glanced down again at the trays full of silver, which no one ever used. She wished for a moment that she owned just one small spoon from the collection. She would have taken it to Grady at the Duncan Street Pawn Shop last night.

Instead, she had sold Grady her ring. Her mother’s ring, actually. The one with the smooth rubbed edges and the tiny curling letters along the inside. Because of her visit to Grady’s and the coins in her pocket, Audrey Ann had been more than a little tempted this morning to walk right on past the frowning gate of Number Eleven. But, she had taken herself by the collar and marched herself up the steps and gotten on with it all.

            She tried to be content by remembering she would finally be able to pay her rent this evening. But then Mrs. Caldicott had gone on and on about the hydrangea incident and about how girls from the country could never be counted on to get things right. The final insult had come when Audrey Ann looked up from the silver collection just in time to see Mrs. Caldicott squeezing the last drop of tea from her Tuesday bag, which she insisted must last until Friday. Then she wrapped it carefully in her napkin lest Audrey Ann try to slip it into her own pocket while clearing away.

            Mrs. Caldicott was certain, as she told everyone, that Audrey Ann stole from her consistently. That was better than the last girl, though, who had been gradually poisoning her food.

            Suddenly, it had all been too much. Audrey Ann had lifted the heavy spoon and dropped it into her pocket. Now, here she sat, wondering where she should go. The farm had been sold months ago. She couldn’t go back there. She would have to go forward, somewhere.

            Although she had never owned any real silver, Audrey Ann was sure the spoon must be worth a large sum of money. Maybe she should go to Grady’s first. Sell the spoon. Redeem the ring. Then she would be free.

She would have enough money left over to escape the city and find a place with trees and hills and birds. Maybe even cows. She would set herself up in a little cottage and write great novels of enduring value.

She would go to a place where no one could scream at her to adjust a window shade just when she had found a minute to scribble on whatever scrap of paper she had managed to scrounge. She would buy thick reams of writing paper, and she would crumple them up and throw away what didn’t suit her without a second thought.

            Audrey Ann looked down and touched the pale band where her mother’s ring should have been. Her ring, actually, since her mother had died and left it to her. She remembered the time when she was small, when her mother had promised the ring to her as an inheritance. Audrey Ann remembered being horrified to think of her mother gone somewhere unreachable. She wondered what possible importance a ring could have in such circumstance.

            Now that the ring was gone, too, she understood.

            Audrey Ann blinked her eyes to clear her head. The she began looking at the other people waiting in the station. She tried to imagine where they might be going and what they might do when they got there. But the game was no good, because the weight in her pocket grew heavier.

            Audrey Ann reminded herself that Mrs. Caldicott would never know. She would claim Audrey Ann had done worse, anyway. Then she would hire a new girl, a girl who needed work so badly she wouldn’t care if it cost her a dream. And it would start all over again.

Audrey Ann was convinced it would have taken years to earn her way back to the country on the salary Mrs. Caldicott paid. This was just a harmless little shortcut, like jumping over the creek instead of going the long way around to the bridge. Mrs. Caldicott would never miss one small, silver spoon from a house filled with treasure. And she probably owed the world one great writer in exchange for the meanness she had contributed over the years. For almost fifteen minutes, Audrey Ann carried on a pretty good argument with herself.

            But, her mother had raised her better than that.

            Finally, Audrey Ann stood up and fingered the spoon in her pocket. Straightening her shoulders, she put one foot in front of the other and started the tiresome walk back toward Number Eleven. She only paused once along the way to pick up a scrap of paper that had blown from the trash bin. She planned to start a new story today. Just as soon as the silver was all put away.

~

Author Bio: Kathy Nickerson describes herself as a writer, speaker, and eternal optimist. (Because she knows how The Book ends.) She writes from northeast Missouri where she lives, loves, and works with her husband of nearly forty years. Her short stories and articles have appeared in several magazines, and her novel Thirty Days to Glory will be released from Cross River Media this year. (www.CrossRiverMedia.com)

You can follow Kathy’s blog or sign up for her newsletter on Faith, Family, Friends, and Fun at www.kathynick.com .

Author Dan Walsh ~ Friday with Friends

lInterview with Author Dan Walsh & Video of Dan with Gary Smalley talking about The Dance!

About The Dance

“Marilyn Anderson, after 27 years of marriage, leaves her husband. ‘I’ve dropped hint after hint, clue after clue,’ she says in her note. Jim, a successful businessman, is clueless, but, once over his anger, he begins soul-searching with help from his children and retired dance instructor Audrey Windsor. Marilyn, meanwhile, finds a job and a roommate and begins dance lessons. Throw in a well-meaning uncle, their daughter Michele’s wedding, their sons’ questions, a demanding church deacon, a dashing dance instructor, and a hurricane, and readers will definitely come away satisfied and shedding tears at the end. Mixing fiction’s emotion and nonfiction’s teaching works splendidly here.” ―Publishers Weekly

Hi, Dan and welcome to FWF! How about a few questions for our readers on your latest release (co-written with Gary Smalley) ~ The Dance?

How did this new series with Gary Smalley come about?

It started for me with a phone call from my editor at Revell, Andrea Doering. They were treating it as a very big deal, and it was a very big deal to me. She explained that Gary had decided a few months before this call to do another fiction collaboration project, similar to the phenomenally successful one he had done with Karen Kingsbury. His team had been given an assignment to find a fiction author he could work with whose writing would impact him in a similar way that Karen’s did. That began a process of evaluating a number of authors from different publishing houses. The short version of the story is… after a thorough process his team recommended me to Gary. After reading my first two novels, a weeping Gary called them back to say, “Call Revell. I want to work with Dan.”

Wow! That had to be terribly exciting and scary at the same time!

What was it like working with Gary on The Dance?

In one sense, it was like having a skillful editor giving you regular input as you write, rather than all at once at the end of the book (which is normally what happens). We decided I would write the story and send him 2 chapters at a time. Many times, Gary would simply right back something like, “Love it. Can’t wait to read more.” But fairly often he would send me specific input on various scenes that always improved them. Especially on how to create a stronger emotional impact.

I read the book blurb and I'm wondering...

What do you think is Marilyn's biggest struggle in her marriage?

She really just wants what all wives want from their husbands, I think. To be loved and cherished and cared for and listened to the way she had been in the early days of their relationship when he had pursued her. In most weddings, these are actually the things a husband vows to do. Gary and I believe this expectation is not unfair or unrealistic. It is really part of what God has in mind for married couples.

I totally get what you're saying there and I agree. 

Some call this form of fiction "transformational writing" of which I am guilty. Tell me, please. How did you strike the balance between creating a fiction story with a non-fiction message?

This was probably the biggest challenge of writing The Dance, and will continue to be the biggest challenge with the rest of the series. People reading fiction aren't looking for the same experience as when they pick up a how-to book on marriage and family life. On the other hand, part of the reason we’re writing this series is that Gary and I recognize how effective the “power of story” can be in conveying spiritual truths to people who need to hear them. In fiction, these life-lessons come in the back door and can affect us in a similar way that music does. So the trick is always putting the story first and allowing the life lessons to come into play naturally, in small doses, the way they awaken for us in real life.

Coming from the wife/mom point of view, I'm curious. Did writing this story affect you as a husband and father?

I’m always looking for anything that can help sharpen my blade in both of these key areas of my life. And that certainly happened while writing The Dance. But thankfully, both Gary and I have already learned the biggest and most difficult lessons we cover in the book. The hard way. In fact, if our readers get the sense that we are connecting well with their experience, it’s not primarily because of all Gary’s years as a counselor and my years as a pastor. It’s because we've made all of these mistakes ourselves. Many times. And God has mercifully led us to a healthier place.

That's wonderful, Dan! Thank you for honestly sharing your own experience. And I have to say, once again, that I'm just so thrilled to have you on Friday with Friends and I'm excited about this new novel series. Writing to affect lives, to reach hurting people through entertainment is the purpose of my own writing, so I'm feeling a kinship here. Thank you for coming and sharing a little of the behind the scenes with us here at FWF!

          Thanks Linnette. Looking forward to spending time with you and your readers. If 
          anyone would like to ask some other questions, I'll be stopping by off and on all day.

Dan Walsh is the award-winning and bestselling author of 7 novels, published by Revell and Guideposts, including The Unfinished Gift, Remembering Christmas and The Reunion. Reviewers often compare Dan’s books to Nicholas Sparks. His latest project is a 4-book fiction series with Gary Smalley. The first book, The Dance, just released. A member of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW), Dan now writes fulltime in Port Orange, FL. He and his wife Cindi have been married 36 years. You can email him or follow him on Facebook or Twitter. There are buttons to connect to these on his website: 

www.DanWalshBooks.com. 

Coming Line-up for Friday with Friends

Donna Clark Goodrich ~ The Writer's Friend

Dan Walsh ~ Award Winning Author of "The Deepest Waters"

Kathy Nickerson ~ a CrossRiver Media Author of coming novel, "The Bruised Reed"

Angela D Meyer ~ a CrossRiver Media Author

Also later in the Spring: 

Lorna Kopp with her coming debut novel, Answering Annaveta


And two of my favorite award winning historical authors:

Laura Frantz of "The Colonel's Lady"

Karen Whitemeyer with "Stealing the Preacher"

Author Shanna Groves on Friday with Friends

Welcome Author Shanna Groves to 

Friday with Friends! 

Check out her latest book!

~at CrossRiver

Sit, Wait, Trust: A Writer-Mom’s Journey

By Shanna Groves

After two days of being holed up with a badly injured foot, I lost it.

My husband had been taking care of our three young children and household duties—things I should’ve been doing. My heart pounded as my one-year-old son screamed when I yanked my crutches away from him. “No,” I told him. “Hurt.” I felt lightheaded as my eight-year-old son attempted to carry his baby brother up the stairs to their bedroom. “Careful!” I pleaded with them. Then there was the stinky odor that wouldn’t go away. I hobbled to the washing machine, and there they were—my bathroom rug and toilet seat cover that sat in mildewed water for 48 hours.

My life pre-foot injury could have been summed up as “God is in control—but only when I’m not.” As a micro-managing momma, I felt empowered knowing that I had mine, my three kids’ and my husband’s lives under perfect control. My husband was well-fed and encouraged. My children never had to worry about hot breakfasts, clean underwear or how to get to school, because I was on top of things. I even had my friends’ lives under control. Whenever they needed me, I was there, doling out endless advice, prayers and relentless reassurances of “You know I’m here for you.” People could depend on me for anything.

After tripping off a porch step and badly injuring my left foot, I couldn’t walk. Neighbors and church friends fed my family; I couldn’t maneuver well around the kitchen in crutches. My parents, who had driven from out of state to help, made sure my older two children wore clean underwear and socks to school. Friends took turns babysitting my one-year-old son because I wasn’t able to carry him. My husband took a week off from work to do grocery shopping, run errands and make sure all of us had a hot breakfast.

All the while, I sat on the sofa and wondered how I would ever get back on top of things. I felt like I was riding a rollercoaster without a seatbelt on; not being able to control things around my house. I knew I had to give up my need to control things, but it was hard. I had to learn how to be still, wait for things, depend on others, and earnestly pray for healing.

One day, my cell phone rang.

“What are you doing?” asked my very busy mom friend.

“Just hanging out,” I mumbled.

“How’s the foot?” Her voice competed with toddler squeals. “Hey kids,” she called out. “Quit putting rocks on the dog’s head.”

“The foot’s still sore,” I said, “and I don’t know what to do.”

“So, how are you?” she asked. “Is your husband home now?”

“Yep, he’s here.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“It is?” I answered, smugly.

My friend giggled. Then I started giggling. The tension and guilt rose from the pit of my stomach, to my chest, up my throat, and out my mouth. I busted out laughing; I just lost it.

“You okay?” she asked me.

I continued laughing but attempted to answer. “I’m a one-footed momma. I can’t do anything without my husband right now!”

My insatiable need to do things without help—it had to stop. I had to start trusting God as the Divine CEO of my home, family and life.

“Is there anything too hard for the Lord?” Moses wrote in Genesis 18:14. Without God and the helpers he provided during my recovery, there was no way me or my family could’ve managed. I believe that is exactly what I needed to learn. To just sit on that couch, give up my crazy need to control, and learn how to depend on him completely.

After faithful prayers from family and church friends, my foot healed and I was able to walk again less than a month after the injury. But I will never forget the lesson God taught me—slow down and trust him.

~

How about you? Is this a lesson you've had to learn? Having chronic Lyme's disease, I can definitely empathize with Shanna on this issue. What lesson has God taught you recently? Leave a comment with your email if you'd like to be entered for a free e-book of Confessions of a Lip Reading Mom.

*To be entered into the drawing, please leave your email address in a comment which must be left before Monday. Please leave a space on each side of @ in your email address in order to help avoid spammers. Winner will be notified via email. Thank you! :D

~

Shanna Groves now walks, not runs, to the next appointment. She is learning patience at this very minute as she waits for the laundry load to finish so she can throw it in the dryer. When the kids are in school, she works as a writer. One of her books, Confessions of a Lip Reading Mom, will be published any day now. Visit her at www.ShannaGroves.com.

Find out more at CrossRiverMedia.com!

Author DiAnn Mills at Friday with Friends!

DiAnn Mills, award winning author of 

Expect an Adventure fiction, teams up with the FBI? I don't know about you, but I'm intrigued!

FBI - The Real Deal

I'd seen enough suspense movies to note the animosity between the FBI and other law enforcement agencies. “Out of the way, fellas. I’m with the FBI, and we’re handling this.” At least that's what I believed until the first night at FBI Houston Citizens Academy where I’d been selected as an honored participant.

            Granted I was really nervous. I’d been fingerprinted and waited to make sure I hadn’t done something that would cause me to get arrested. I didn’t think I’d broken any laws, but who knows? I’d gone through a few yellow lights. I passed inspection and made my way to a conference room with thirty people, all from various backgrounds from the Houston area.

            I watched a presentation given by an FBI special agent and a police detective. The two men had worked together to solve a cold case, one that is the basis of The Survivor.  My research had been information found online and through the FBI’s media coordinator, but I hadn't seen video footage of the interrogation or how the nine-year-old little girl looked after having her throat cut. I choked back sobs because I knew the case passionately, and I'd been in contact with the victim—now a grown woman, married, and expecting her first child. I discovered how well an FBI special agent and a police detective teamed up using their strengths to solve a horrendous crime. I took this information and wrote a story loosely based on the real crime. Other agents and police officers were involved. The investigators were determined to find the man who’d harmed this child and refused to give up until an arrest was made. That was their goal and it guided them throughout the investigation.

            Back to learning how far too many movies have the details wrong. The FBI does join forces with other agencies. They all have the same goals: solve crimes and prevent other acts of injustice. Methods and procedures of different law enforcement agencies vary, and that’s why the process is successful. Team work—everyone gives their best. Granted some individuals may not get along well with others, but that's life.

            Are you curious about the areas covered by the FBI? Take a look at http://www.fbi.gov. On their website you’ll learn how to contact them and see the photos and stats of the most wanted list. You’ll discover the FBI’s expertise and could even apply for a job. Now ... if I were a little younger I’d consider a new career.

            The next time you think you're watching an authentic TV show or movie where the rough and tough special agent shoves aside police officers, the writer didn't get his facts right. And you’ll have the correct answers because you visited the FBI’s website!

            What was the last TV show or movie you saw with law enforcement officials? Leave a comment to win a personalized copy of The Survivor. 

Linnette here! Wow! I don't know about you, but I'd sure like to get my hands on a copy of The Survivor! Be sure to leave your comments and questions for DiAnn. We'll enter your name for a chance to win a free copy. BONUS: If you "Follow Linnette by Email", you'll earn a second entry into the drawing! Just enter your email address into the box and click "submit".

*To be entered into the drawing, please leave your email address in a comment which must be left before Monday. Please leave a space on each side of @ in your email address in order to help avoid spammers. Winner will be notified via email. Thank you! :D

~

Award-winning author DiAnn Mills is a fiction writer who combines an adventuresome spirit with unforgettable characters to create action-packed, suspense-filled novels. DiAnn's first book was published in 1998. She currently has more than fifty books published.

Her titles have appeared on the CBA and ECPA bestseller lists and have won placements through American Christian Fiction Writer's Carol Awards and Inspirational Reader's Choice awads. DiAnn won the Christy Award in 2010 and 2011.

DiAnn is a founding board member for ACFW and a member of Inspirational Writers Alive, Romance Writers of America, and Advanced Writers and Speakers Association. She speaks to Various groups and teaches writing workshops around the country. DiAnn is also the Craftsman mentor for the Jerry B Jenkins Christians Writers Guild. 

DiAnn and her husband live in sunny Houston, Texas.

Writer Stephanie Karfelt @ Friday with Friends

Please welcome writer Stephanie Karfelt

and check out the epic slinky-dog give-away!

Suzy Quimby Rides the Bus

Suzy liked the dog painted on the side of the bus, but thought it should have eyes. When you’re going to have Thanksgiving dinner with a family who doesn’t really want you, it would help to look into the understanding eyes of a dog, even one painted on the side of a bus. Miss Vicky was supposed to come with her, and deliver her to the family with the fake smiles, but Miss Vicky didn’t show up. Suzy had Miss Vicky’s ticket shoved inside her Hello Kitty backpack, with a penny she’d pressed in a machine for fifty cents. That penny now had an imprint of jellyfish on it, instead of Abraham Lincoln.

Suzy double checked her pigtails to make sure they were neat, and dropped her backpack onto the seat beside her to keep it empty. It made her sad that her holiday family didn’t want her, but it made her sadder that she had to go anyway. She pressed her forehead against the cold window to ignore people looking hopefully at the empty seat with the backpack. Then the bus driver started to yell, and she looked up to see a lady in a soft brown coat clutching a cake box.

“I didn’t have time to get a ticket, the line is so long. Can’t I just pay you?” The lady offered a handful of money to the bus driver who used ugly words.

The cake lady looked at Suzy’s backpack seat, and just because the bus driver was being mean - and Suzy didn’t want mean to win - she dug in her backpack, and tramped bravely to the front of the bus and handed Miss Vicky’s ticket to the lady.

~from Pampered Puppy dot com

“Thank you, Sweetheart.” The cake lady told her when she sat beside her. “What’s your name?”

“Suzy Quimby,” she declared, even though it was talking to strangers.

“Moira Curtains.”  They shook hands formally. “I like your pigtails, did you do them yourself?”

Suzy smoothed them proudly, she had fixed them herself.

Moira sat her cake box between her feet and asked, “Are you visiting family for Thanksgiving?”

“They don’t want me.” Suzy announced, “At Easter they said I was annoying and a picky eater.”

“Are you?” Moira’s dark eyes laughed.

“I guess so, everyone says that, but isn’t it rude to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe they thought it would make you eat?”

“They say it behind my back, like I’m too dumb to understand them. They don’t want me to come, but it’s on my papers and the Director says I have to do what’s on my papers.”

Moira said, “They would miss you if you didn’t come anymore.”

“No,” Suzy insisted. “My family died, and they feel obli… obli… like they have to be nice to me. They wish I wouldn’t come anymore.”

Moira stared at her. The middle of her eyes went big, like a cat’s at night, Suzy shivered. She wrapped her arms around the backpack and pretended to look out the bus window at the cloudy, wet day. Miss Vicky would be in trouble for making her go alone, but Suzy was old enough to know not to talk to strangers.

“Nobody wants me either.”

Suzy immediately turned back to Moira. “Your eyes are scary.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Who’s the cake for?”

Moira’s eyes were friendly again, smiling, and she bent forward and plucked the box off the floor. Balancing it on her knees she opened the lid and turned it towards Suzy so she could see it. It was a round white cake with yellow roses all around the edges, enough so that every piece would have a big fat frosting rose on it. Right in the middle of the cake, in green icing it said, ‘Suzy Q’.

Suzy hugged her backpack tight and smiled, “It’s for me?”

“What does it say?” Moira asked.

“It has my name on it. My Daddy used to call me Suzy Q.”

“Then it is for you. You can taste it, if you like.”

Suzy leaned forward to peer into the box, “It’s like a birthday cake.”

“It’s better than that. Try it.”

Since it had her name on it, Suzy reached into the box and swiped a thin finger right over a yellow rose, and popped the sugary sweetness into her mouth. It wasn’t like taking candy from a stranger, not when the cake had your own name on it. A frowning lady on the other side of the aisle watched her, while Suzy raked her finger again and again over yellow roses. She didn’t care what the frowning lady thought; icing was her favorite part of a cake. Nobody ever let her have anything sweet, not even the holiday family, because the Director said it wasn’t on her chart.

“You don’t seem like a very picky eater to me.” Moira teased her.

Suzy leaned back in her seat and grinned, she liked the lady in the brown coat. Moira’s eyes weren’t so scary, they were tired. Suzy ran a messy finger along the edge of the lady’s coat, it felt smooth. “I feel funny.”

“I know, Suzy, just close your eyes and rest. You’ll feel better in a minute.”

Obediently Suzy closed them. It was a little scary, because she didn’t feel right, she felt dizzy and hot. Moira held her sticky fingers then, and that helped.

The bus stopped and Moira tugged her to stand, holding her gooey hand tightly. They left the Hello Kitty backpack sitting in the seat. The lady across the aisle was looking at it; she looked worried so Suzy looked back. There was an old lady with silly grey pigtails sitting in her seat; her eyes were squeezed shut and yellow frosting painted her mouth. It frightened Suzy; she clutched Moira’s hand with both hers and whispered, “That’s me, isn’t it?  I forget I am old.”

“You’re not old anymore Suzy Q. Your real family wants you; everyone wants to see you. Come on.” 

~

About Stephanie Karfelt: Writing fiction with a twist is my specialty. My novels lean towards New Adult and Urban Fantasy. Warrior of the Ages is my first novel, and should be out later this year. It’s about an immortal warrior moonlighting as a cop, and just how dangerous a blonde in a speeding convertible can be for the world’s oldest bachelor. My hope is that this book will make cops everywhere think twice about trying to foist speeding tickets on women.

The latest on my books can be found at www.WarrioroftheAges.com, or follow my blog for some fun giveaways at www.TheGlitterGlobe.com. And just for friends of Linnette, I’ll give an Epic Slinky Dog to the first three visitors. All you have to do is follow my blog too (because you already follow Linnette’s, right?) and post “Linnette sent me” and I’ll send you an awesome Epic Slinky Dog. Be sure to leave me contact info so I can find you! 

Thanks for coming, Stephanie! And friends, you'll love the epic slinky dog. So run on over to the Glitter Globe (you'll love it there), follow Stephanie and let her know I sent you.