I apologize for messing up the photos on last Monday’s post. I tried to copy them from Facebook and I guess that isn’t how it works. I uploaded them all this time. If they did show up somehow last week, then these photos are a repeat. However, I wanted to share with you some of the beauty of the area we visited.
Lavender Farm Terraza di Lavanda, Leelanau Michigan
We stayed in a B&B on a lavender farm. It was a beautiful setting and very tranquil. I enjoyed early mornings looking out over the lake and watching the sunset at night.
We rented an SUV with a navigation system that my son became a pro at. We toured Sleeping Bear Dunes on a one-way paved drive up-up-up to a lookout, then down-down-down around curves and one very steep hill back to the main entrance. The view was worth the white knuckles.
We visited a place called Fishtown. The history of the town is on the photo below. The building is a lodge that is built on the water. It was a great place to pick up souveniers at the little shops. We ate at a restaurant outside on the patio. My son got a fish entree, but my daughter and I weren’t quite as brave. He said it was very good.
There’s a historic Coast Guard station and community in Glen Haven. That was probably the most fascinating part of the trip for me. The image of the brave men who rowed out into the waters and rescued people started the wheels turning in my head. What a great series that would make. It would take a lot of research though, and I have several other projects I’m working on.
When we drove out of the Leelanau Peninsula, we stopped by a historic landmark called Point Betsie Lighthouse. We toured the lowel level of the lighthouse. I didn’t try and go up the spiral stairs to the lookout. I did that at a lighthouse a few years ago and became claustrophobic. There was a beautiful view of Lake Michigan, though and I enjoyed the historical aspect.
On the way home, we stopped at a place where an artist, Gwen Frostic, created and printed wildlife on notecards and stationery. Years ago, I attended a writing workshop and she was one of the instructors. We toured her print shop at the time. When my husband and I honeymooned near that town, we also visited the shop. This time I took my kids there for the nostalgia. We found some beautiful mugs with her art on them.
It was a great time of bonding with my adult children and a refreshing change of pace and scenery. I’d like to go back someday.
Our dog and cats were glad to see us come home. They had good care while we were gone, but we could tell they missed us.
Take a break from the heat today and dive into a story set in Churchill, Manitoba. This featured book is about a hero who suffers from PTSD after a polar bear attack that nearly killed him.
Author’s Inspiration:
“The hero of NORTHERN PROTECTOR, Constable Ben Koper, is the best friend of the hero in book 1 of the series. He’s mauled by a polar bear in book 1 and I always knew that book 2 would be about him and his journey back to mental and physical health.
Not many police officers face this kind of challenge in their careers, but I did want to write a book that tackled the role of PTSD on police officers. PTSD can be the result of one traumatic incident, or it can be the slow, insidious build up over time of many experiences. We hear about PTSD often with our soldiers returning from combat, but not as much with police.”
About the book:
Constable Ben Koper is still healing from the polar bear attack that almost killed him. Nine months after it happened, he returns to Churchill, Manitoba, a changed man—scarred more than just physically. PTSD is his new shadow, haunting his every step, and he can’t seem to kick the pain meds he shouldn’t need anymore. He’s determined to prove, to himself and his colleagues, that he’s still up to his job. Failure isn’t an option.
ER nurse Joy Gallagher spent the entire last winter texting with a healing Constable Koper. What started as friendly concern from this single mother has grown into full-fledged romantic feelings, and she’s eager to level up their friendship and introduce him to the idyllic comfort of small-town life. Until a teenager is murdered at a summer party. The crime is strikingly similar to the cold case murder of Joy’s foster sister, stirring old trauma Joy has never fully dealt with.
When another victim is snatched in town, Ben and Joy must confront their own demons, and join forces to track down an elusive killer. The race to rescue the next victim before it’s too late will test Ben and Joy to their limits. Can they survive their encounter with this heinous killer, or will the past destroy them.?
Excerpt:
CONSTABLE BEN KOPER PULLED HIS POLICE truck over to the side of the road across from Ruby’s Café & Emporium. His first day back at work in nine months, and already he was running late. He slammed the truck into park and stared up and down Kelsey Boulevard, on high alert for any movement between the buildings.
Last November, a polar bear had attacked him in this exact spot. He hadn’t been back to Churchill since then. Goose bumps skittered along his arms. Rationally, he knew that bears had been spotted along the coast and probably hadn’t made it into town yet. But his anxiety and the acid in his stomach told his brain a polar bear could be anywhere, now that the sea ice had melted.
Ben grabbed his mobile phone with the coffee orders on it and stepped out of his truck, pulling his baseball cap down to his sunglasses. He slammed the truck door and strode to the pavement of Kelsey Boulevard. The rest of the street sat quiet, while Ruby’s 6:00 a.m. crowd was hopping with its early morning breakfast specials. He could see people eating at tables through the huge front plate-glass window.
When he hit the middle of the street, his heart sped up, jackhammering in his chest. His feet refused to move past the centre of the road, like he’d struck an invisible wall. Adrenaline shot through his limbs. His vision tunneled into black holes. Sweat poured down his back and gathered on his forehead. He put his right hand on the grip of his service weapon, trying to get some equilibrium. His throat closed, and he leaned over with his hands on his knees. Deep breaths.
Deep, deep breaths Trying, trying…
Dan Sherman, his therapist, sounded in his head. “Look for five things around you to centre yourself. Repeat them to yourself. Then count them down one by one.”
Panting, beads of sweat rolled down the right side of his face over his scarred eyebrow and ear. All he could see was the concrete road and small rocks littered about.
There’s nothing but the road. Concrete, rocks, concrete, rocks…
He needed five things. His boots wouldn’t move. He stood hunched over in the middle of the street, trying not to throw up his meagre breakfast. No other objects around; nothing else to see. His feet… he couldn’t move his feet.
Running shoes, white and pink running shoes… Where did they come from?
“Ben? Ben,” a lilting, female voice broke through his fog. “Are you okay?”
A hand touched his shoulder, his sore right shoulder, and he flinched. Finally. He could move. He reared his head up and collided with the face belonging to the voice.
“Ow.” The woman let go of his shoulder and grabbed her nose while he staggered sideways.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he stammered. He reached forward to steady himself with his right hand but dropped his phone on the ground with his other hand. The woman dove for the phone and swiveled around to give it to him.
“Ben, look at me,” she ordered. That voice had a familiar ring to it. Bossy but comforting at the same time. He’d heard it before. “Let me see you without the sunglasses.”
He removed them without question, his heart slowing while sweat made his uniform shirt cling to his back. At nearly 6:30 a.m, no less. Or, what time was it now? He was inexcusably late. Not a great impression to make on the new Corporal.
The woman stood in front of him, her dark brown eyes concerned as she held him by his upper arms. He blinked twice and tried to get his tongue to work. Mortification brought a dull red flush to his cheeks. I should know her… Gah, why won’t my stupid brain work?
She wore purple nursing scrubs with sprigs of pink flowers on them. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a braided ponytail, but her eyes—they were the deepest brown he’d ever seen. Several gold earrings pierced her right ear, and one gold stud pierced her left. A delicate scrolled flower tattoo peeked out along her left collarbone. And she smelled of fresh citrus. Like a pitcher of lemonade.
All right, he hadn’t totally lost his powers of perception. A gorgeous woman had just pulled him out of a full-blown panic attack in the middle of main street. Wonderful. He might as well turn in his badge and gun, drive straight to the airport, and fly home.
About the author:
Laurie Wood lives in Central Canada and writes inspirational romantic suspense with an edge of danger. She’s also a military wife who’s raised two wonderful special needs children to adulthood. They’ve lived all over Canada and are still on that journey. When she’s not writing she can be found at her spinning wheel, knitting, or hanging out with her dogs in the garden. She loves to hear from readers and always replies so feel free to get in touch with her.
In this month’s theme of Heroes, today I’m featuring a military romance by Connie Ann Michael. This series follows the lives of Sawyer and Raven, and each book is more intriguing than the previous one. If you haven’t read the first three books, you may want to do so before putting this one on your reading list. The author has woven faith and love into the lives of the characters throughout the series.
About the book:
Sawyer and Raven are finally happily married and living by the beach in California, but things are far from perfect. Unsettled with “normal” civilian life, Sawyer feels called back to the battlefield. With Raven’s reluctant agreement, Sawyer deploys with a helicopter medic group.
Raven struggles with letting her go again, the nightmares of her last deployment never far from his thoughts, but when their close friends, Thommy and Vanessa, announce they are expecting a baby, Raven begins to wonder if Sawyer is searching for more than just her next deployment.
As a former prisoner-of war, Sawyer suffered life changing injuries that leave her unable to have children. Now that their best friends are expecting, Sawyer’s questioning her ability to give Raven the family he desperately wants—and deserves. It seems everyone is moving forward in their lives while she continues to go backward, hoping the next life she saves will fill the hole in her heart. But the middle of a battlefield is the last place she expected to discover the doctors were wrong, and God has other plans.
About the author:
Connie was born and raised in Seattle Washington but recently moved to Southern Montana. She lives with her husband and her two dogs and enjoys any activity which will get her outdoors. Connie is a 5th grade teacher and has two sons who have given her two wonderful daughter-in-law’s and one adorable grandson.
Shelby Marano is the youngest of three sisters and was always Daddy’s baby girl–until her father was murdered. Ever since, she’s been running from anyone or anything that could truly hurt her. Instead, she seeks calculated thrills that leave her exhilarated, but when she’s caught outside during a summer storm, she quickly realizes not all adventures are within her control.
Tyler Burgess offers her both refuge fromthe rain and a safe place to land.
Time spent with Tyler proves him to be much more than just a nerd in a history museum, but what she finds out about him is a dealbreaker for her. As Shelby’s perfect little world is threatened by family health issues and an unknown stalker, she learns the hard lesson that no one can hide from the dangers of life. Can Shelby let her sisters, Tyler, and even more importantly, God, show her in one Sweet Summer, that love is worth taking the risk?
Excerpt:
Both day and night belong to you; you made the starlight and the sun. You set the boundaries of the earth, and you made both summer and winter.
Psalms 75:16-17
Chapter One
Water sluiced down Shelby Marano’s back, and she ran faster, as if it were possible to outrace a tropical downpour that wanted to be a hurricane when it grew up. Her feet pounded on the sidewalk next to the Charleston harbor sea wall, agony streaking up her calf. The orthopedist had advised her to take a break, but she could no more stop running than she could give up coffee or taking risks.
She slowed and searched for shelter. A black pickup approached, and she did a quick glance-over. The vehicle looked a lot like Thomas’s car, and aggravation ripped through her like a leg cramp. Then, the vehicle picked up speed, passing by. She tripped over a cobblestone, her heart slowing down in relief, and she could take in oxygen again.
Shelby focused back on her surroundings and not her paranoia. The Battery sat at the tip of the peninsula of Charleston, a beautiful green expanse with statues and cannons and a gazebo. The gazebo offered a roof, but this rain slanted sideways, and she needed walls. The ancient live oaks offered a bit of protection, but no public place for blocks. She sighed, then squealed when lightning struck in the harbor.
She picked up her pace, weaving to avoid rain puddles down East Bay Street, and took a left at the first side street that came her way. The roof overhangs helped her predicament some, but several more intersections went by before she saw an open door to a museum. If she’d gone straight down East Bay Street, she’d have located shelter faster, but she’d have walked into a tourist trap full of people while she looked like a soaked Labradoodle with her corkscrew blond curls half-soaked and half-sprung.
The sign read “Open,” and she headed for refuge. The wrought iron gate scraped the sidewalk as she shoved it open, and she danced a quickstep as thunder rolled. Up a dozen worn concrete steps and she stood on the columned porch, looking back out at the street.
“Hello?” The man’s voice came from behind her, inside the museum foyer. “You can come in and get out of the weather. We’re free.”
She whipped her head around, startled at the intrusion. The place showed signs of being in disrepair, paint peeling off the closest column and the grass more weeds than manicured. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“The museum. It doesn’t cost anything.” The man looked to be in his late twenties, with the square glasses and rumpled clothes seemingly assigned to people who appreciated history. She wasn’t one of those people. “It’s warm inside, you could dry off. “
She narrowed her eyes, suspicious of free and friendly for no reason, even if they were in the most polite city in the world, according to a recent hospitality magazine. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” His lips twitched with the suspicion of a smile that started to thaw her insides. “You’re soaking wet, and I won’t bite. We don’t get a lot of visitors, but enough you don’t have to worry.”
She hugged herself against the cold, still not buying. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you, but—”
He held open one of the massive doors. “You didn’t disturb me. I like the rain, and the fresh air, so I poked my head out. Sitting in here for hours gets a little monotonous.”
She shivered, putting the lie to her claim that she was absolutely fine. If he was going to be such a gentleman and hold the door, she’d be silly to stand outside getting wetter with every syllable of her protest. “Thank you.”
He moved out of the way to allow her to enter first with him following behind. She stepped into the vestibule of what used to be a large downtown church. Several rows of pews remained in front of an ancient altar, but a semi-circle of display cases interfered between here and there. Two hymns of the day were still listed on a board high up on the wall to the right.
“Hey, it’s okay. It would take some strange horizontal lightning to make its way across that portico and inside.” The man’s voice came from a few feet behind her, again not too close. When she pivoted on one squishing heel, he held out a jacket. “I found this in the lost and found box. It’s been there awhile so you can keep it if you’d like.”
She crossed her arms in front of her in a very vain attempt to pretend she didn’t need a jacket. The goose bumps on top of her chills called her a liar. “Um, thanks. It is cold in here.”
The man’s dark eyebrows came down over a Roman nose that made an otherwise perfect face more interesting. Without saying a word, he tossed the jacket. She caught it before the sleeves hit her face.
“Thank you,” she said and lifted her chin in his direction. “That’s very kind of you.”
She didn’t know if he’d thrown her the jacket because he sensed her discomfort, but him keeping his distance was as much the reason behind her thank you as the jacket itself.
“Aren’t you going to put it on?” He nodded back and leaned up against the doorframe leading to the main part of the church. “You may be stuck here for a while.”
Thunder rolled outside, and she had to agree. Shoving her arms into the garnet red and black fleece sleeves, she zipped the light jacket closed. “Why is it so cold in here anyway?”
He pushed off from the door and waved a hand toward the sanctuary. “Manuscripts.”
She felt stupid that he’d had to state the obvious, but she preceded him into the larger room anyway. She didn’t even have her phone with her to be able to call a cab so she might as well browse for a few minutes. Staying almost felt like doing the young man a favor. “Okay, what kind of manuscripts?”
This was a man who spent his hours and days inside a museum with the past, set back from the hustle and bustle of downtown and the modern world. He oozed safe.
Inspirational Author 