Today’s guest is author Michelle Lowe. Michelle, thank you for joining me today. Tell us a little bit about yourself.

I have been married to my husband, Brian, for twenty years. We have a wonderful son, Jake, and one lazy hound dog named Daisy. We live in Asheboro, North Carolina where I enjoy cooking for my family and searching for Native American Indian arrowheads on our property.

What is your book about?

When Sage Patterson is forced to sell her mother’s beloved beach house, she at least hopes to put all the hurt and embarrassment of the previous year behind her. With her loyal friend and rescue dog, Molly, by her side she finds refuge in the tranquil settings of Ocean Isle Beach, watching each evening a mysterious painter paint by the waterway. This temporary refuge is interrupted, however, when real estate attorney Jacob Gable threatens to steal her heart and push her towards forgiving the man who ultimately broke her trust, making her realize there is much more at stake than only losing her mother’s precious beach house.

What is the inspiration behind your story?

The inspiration for The Maritime Cure was my mom who bravely battled Multiple Sclerosis for nearly fifteen years.

Do you have a day job? If so, how do you find time in your day to write?

I do have a day job, as a Registered Nurse. I work part-time so this affords me time to write. I especially enjoy writing early on weekend mornings with a cup of coffee in hand, or when the weather is bad outside.

Are you a night owl or morning person?

I am a morning person. I love to get up early and I’m usually spent by 8:30pm or so. My family and friends are aware of this and regularly enjoy joking about my early bedtime habit.

What does your family think of your writing?

My family has been very supportive and excited for me. This means more than I could possibly express.

Who was the first person you allowed to read your completed book?

My friend Alicia, who is also a nurse. We laughed recently when I found an old story in which she had critiqued in the margins with a red pen!

Do you have a favorite author or book?

My favorite Book is The Black Opal by Victoria Holt. I have read almost all of her books and have my mom’s old hardbacks- which are beautiful!

What’s next for you as an author?

I have two more novellas which will be published soon by Anaiah Press.

Where can readers find you online?

instagram.com/authormlowe

twitter.com/Author_MLowe

facebook.com/MichelleSLoweAuthor

GIVEAWAY:

Michelle is giving away an adult coloring book with the Bible verse, BE STILL AND KNOW. You can enter the drawing at the following link.

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/6ae93a9b9/?

Buy link:

To celebrate June as the traditional month of weddings, today’s story is about a diamond engagement ring.

Once upon a time, a young man took a young woman to a jeweler’s to look at engagement rings. She had her finger sized (just in case) and looked at a display of diamonds and wedding sets. Her favorite was a diamond solitaire that was so brilliant it glistened in the overhead lights. Not a full carat, but very beautiful.

A few days after the visit to the jeweler’s, the young man stopped by his beloved’s home. On bended knee, he asked her to marry him, and he presented her with the ring in a little pink box. She was thrilled, and accepted his proposal.

She showed off her new diamond to family, friends and co-workers.  Their “ooh’s” and “aahs” over the diamond made her very proud.

Through several years of marriage, two children and added pounds, that diamond remained a constant presence in the woman’s life. She had only to glance at the diamond to know that she was loved by the man with whom she was walking through life.

One afternoon the woman took her young son to the grocery store. As she pushed the cart, her son played “semi truck” with it. This involved pushing and pulling on the little front seat, adding the loud noise that the “air brakes” made. As they rounded a corner, the mother’s finger was caught in the “air brakes,” causing instant pain.

Not wanting to make a scene, the woman quietly finished her shopping and left the store. She was halfway home when she glanced at her ring finger, as she always looked at the diamond glistening in the sunshine. A sick feeling entered the pit of her stomach as she realized the diamond was gone. She knew instinctively that it broke off when her hand got caught in the “air brakes.”

When she got home, she told her husband what had happened, hoping he would be understanding. Maybe he could find it if he went back to the store. After all, whenever she lost one of her contacts on the bathroom floor, he was the one to find it.

Alas, he was not very sympathetic to her loss. “You’ll never find it now,” he said. She had to try, so she returned to the store. Searching every inch of the aisles turned up empty. Sadly disappointed, she returned home.

Unfortunately the diamond was uninsured. The warranty was invalid, since returning to the jewelry store to get it inspected and cleaned every six months had been inconvenient. The diamond was lost for good.

You’re probably guessing that I am the woman in the story. I cried that day when my beautiful diamond was torn from my finger. I didn’t blame my little son. He was simply playing a game he’d played before. I did have to deal with forgiveness towards my husband for not returning to the store to help me search for it. And I had to deal with forgiveness towards myself, for not following through with the warranty requirements.

Even if we bought another diamond to replace that one, we could not replace the sentiment in which it was given. The gift of love that promised a lifetime of happiness could never be replaced.

I pretty much accepted that I would never have another diamond. So I was very surprised and happy when on Christmas Day my husband presented me with a little burgundy box. Inside I found a one-carat diamond solitaire.

Whether he realized it or not, my husband was reaffirming his love for me with his gift. His action told me that if he had to do it all over again, he would still choose me.

Because of the first situation, we were careful this time. However, we had a mishap with the ring that almost lost it forever.

On the way to church on morning, I was applying lotion to my hands. I slipped the ring off and laid it in my lap. Then it was gone. I yelled at my husband to stop the car and help me search for it, but he didn’t. Half mile down the road, I finally got him to stop. I opened the door and got out, which was a mistake. After searching the car, we didn’t find it. We turned around, too upset to go on to church.

As we drove home, a song played on the radio. The song that says the Lord is more precious than gold. I knew that was true, but I prayed silently, “Not this ring, Lord. I don’t want to lose this ring.” A glance at my husband showed his disgust over the incident.

Before we arrived home, I realized it might have fallen on the ground when I got out of the car. I talked him into returning to the place where we had stopped. We searched through a couple of inches of snow. We had almost given up hope when I brushed the snow lightly with my foot. A glint of gold shone through the white. It was my ring. I picked it up and put it on my finger. Rejoicing, but subdued.

Fortunately, this story had a happy ending.

P.S.: The ring is now insured.

Summer is here, and many of us are planning vacations to get away from our daily routines. Today our featured book will take you to the fictional town of Crystal Lake, where romance is in the air. Crystal Lake is a great little getaway where you’ll fall in love with the characters and their stories. I enjoyed reading this series by one of my favorite authors, Laura Scott.

Author’s inspiration:

When I was young I spent several summers in a small lake town located in Wisconsin and fell in love with the cozy atmosphere and quirky townsfolk. Crystal Lake might be fictional but the characters in the story speak to my heart.

About the book:

Can he trust her with his secret?

Reeling from a broken engagement that resulted in a small town scandal, ER nurse Julie Crain just wants to be left alone over the Fourth of July Holiday weekend. But when single dad, Derek Ryerson and his young daughter need a place to stay to recuperate from a car accident, Julie can’t ignore their plight. She knows she needs to protect her heart, but little Lexi clearly needs love and support. 

Derek is the strong silent type, insisting on helping despite being injured. He seems too good to be true, and maybe he is. Because she soon realizes the former soldier has a secret that could tear them apart forever.

Excerpt:

Derek knew he probably sounded like a lunatic, but he didn’t care. The pain along the right side of his chest was bad, far worse than he’d let on, and after what the petite brunette nurse had said about the possible damage to his lung, he was very much afraid that, once they’d completed the scan, they’d whisk him off to surgery.

He’d downplayed his injuries because he didn’t want to stay overnight in the hospital, unless, of course, Lexi needed to be observed. No matter what, he was not going to leave his daughter. Lexi had already been through so much, more than any six-year-old should have to handle. With her mother dead and buried, she needed him now, more than ever.

If only he’d stopped for something to eat earlier, he wouldn’t have been driving through the intersection at the same moment as the idiot who’d run a red light, had slammed into them.

“Daddy?”

He turned his head, hiding a wince, to look at his daughter. True to her word, the pretty nurse—what in the world was her name?—had gotten Lexi into a wheelchair and brought her over to the side of his gurney. He forced a broad, reassuring smile. “Hey Lexi, how are you feeling?”

Her solemn gaze didn’t waver from his. “Fine,” she whispered. “Can we leave now?”

If only they could.

About the author:

Laura Scott is a Registered Nurse by day and an author by night. She has written over 70 books and has more ideas than time to write! Laura lives in Wauwatosa Wisconsin with her husband of 35 years and babysits for her son’s puppy, a Red Fox Labrador Retriever named Otis.

Author media links

Website: https://www.laurascottbooks.com

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/LauraScottBooks

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/laurascottbooks

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/laurascottbooks/

Buy Link:

Going along with this month’s theme of Family, today’s featured book is about three African-American sisters who are uprooted from their middle class life and placed in low income housing across the street from an elite private school. Petrified Flowers is a YA novel written in verse by Joiya Morrison-Efemini.

Author’s inspiration:

My family likes to watch a lot of documentaries. One we watched in 2018 had a huge impact on us. It is entitled Class Divide and it highlights a private school in New York City that sits directly across from public housing. The documentary haunted me. Iris and her sisters were conceived as I contemplated the issues of race and class in America.

About the book:

Tragedy uproots Iris and her sisters, all named after flowers, from the solid ground of middle-class life and plants them, unsupervised, in the rocky terrain of low-income housing. In a world where rain falls only on the privileged, Liam, a student who attends the elite private school directly across the street, proves refreshing as a summer gale, gushing joy into the sisters’ lives. Further nurtured by Ma Moore, a church elder who sprinkles the Flower sisters with spiritual wisdom, Iris embraces her Heavenly Father with steadfast urgency.

But when a student takes a hopeless leap from the school roof, Iris withers under the scorching realization that everything she thought she knew about privilege—and God—lies crippled. Petrified Flowers is the anthem of one African-American girl straddling three worlds. It is a song of hope, a triumph of faith, and a resounding refrain of the Father’s eternal love.

Excerpt:

DISSIPATION

The afternoon

it rained on their side of the street

but not ours

Dahlia and I sat idle,

too hot to breathe

fully.

We straddled a seesaw,

fixed—

Me digging my flip flop heels

into recycled rubber.

Her suspended mid-air,

defying gravity.

The two of us panting and dripping

at Brooks Street Park.

Wishing we could beam ourselves

thirteen blocks north

to Spriggs Park

where our sisters played.

Wishing we could dip our toes into homemade concrete

and melt into abandon

with the rest of the Flowers.

We had disregarded Mom’s orders

to remain inside.

Dahlia was supposed to be confined to her bed.

I’d been roped into nursing her flu.

Instead, we persisted—

I in reclaiming the childhood that had abruptly ended

and Dahlia in growing up.

We played

Bubble Gum, Bubble Gum.

I was too old for the game, but not for the wishing.

If wishing could actualize

the sweet, juicy pieces

we sang of,

maybe we could sing Daddy back

and exhume Mom.

But, our voices cracked

from singing too long.

Our expectations ran dry

from hoping too hard.

Then we heard a murmuring. Hope.

We both stopped singing

squinted up

out

over

to the other side of the street.

A miraculous

liquid sheet descended.

Conditions

shifted

immediately.

We seized scanty drafts in fits and waves;

even still, we accepted the

remainders

of their respite

from the unbearable hot spell.

It literally rained on only one side of the street.

The injustice fumed.

Steam surged from the concrete as it poured—

gloriously commonplace.

Acrid on parched tongues

the immoral aftertaste of so many entitlements

permitted just over there.

We weathered still.

Bystanders cemented

on the outskirts of beautiful lives.

About the author:

 Joiya Morrison-Efemini is the author of THE NOTES THEY PLAYED (2017), THE IMPOSSIBLE (2019), and DARKER SISTER (coming 2021). She lives in Marietta, GA with her hunky husband and four phenomenal kids.

Author media links:

www.joiyamewrites.com

 @JoiyaE

Buy link:

I have the honor of being the third generation of women in my family who were born in the month of May. In fact, we have the unique blessing of being born in order of my maternal grandmother on May 24, my mom on May 25, and myself on May 26. For most of my life, we celebrated the three birthdays together.

Both my mom and grandma have passed on, but their legacy remains. They both raised five children. Both loved the Lord and loved others unconditionally. I learned how to laugh and love from them.

I also learned how to face death with dignity. My grandma, near the end of her life, told me, “I don’t have anything against anyone.” My mom, when faced with her imminent dying, said, “I’m sad, but I’m ready.” Their faith, tested by the fires of life’s trials and proven true, allowed them to face death with peace.

To be a part of the trio of birthdays, in the company of these magnificent women, brings joy to me. I have wonderful memories of them both. I look forward to the day when we will all be reunited and spend our birthdays in heaven.