I’m not sure what spring break will look like for schools this year, but I imagine many families who normally go on vacation during that week will be sticking closer to home. It might be a good idea to stock up on books for young readers. Following this month’s theme of “Spring Break,” today I’m featuring Violet, a middle-grade contemporary book by Renée Lichetenhan.

Inspiration behind the book:

My “I Am Girl” collection of middle-grade books is inspired by a desire to help parents cultivate faith and virtue in their kids. Honesty is at the root of my most recent release, VIOLET. I chose to spotlight honesty, because — let’s face it, lots of teenagers lie to their parents. That’s what VIOLET chooses to do, and as you’d expect,  her choice ends up getting her into a heap of trouble. But, what happens when she comes clean is a surprise even to Violet.

About the book:

Thirteen-year-old Violet Windsor is obsessed with the rush and thrill of skateboarding through a dangerous, gang-ridden part of New York City. Certain that her high-society parents wouldn’t approve of the rough-and-tumble sport or the sketchy neighborhood, she and her best friend, Sloane, hide her secret adventures in a thick veil of lies.

When Violet’s autistic, non-verbal brother, Oliver, begins drawing pictures that reveal a mysterious knowledge of her secrets, Violet is rattled to the core. Intrigued by peculiar clues in Oliver’s drawings, she follows them down a reckless path toward redemption and truth.

Excerpt:

Sloane rode her bike beside Violet down the hectic, congested sidewalks. When they reached the riverfront greenway, Violet threaded a jump rope around Sloane’s bike seat and held on tight as Sloane pedaled fast, pulling Violet along at exhilarating speeds.

Violet couldn’t help but let out a whoop and raise an arm triumphantly in the air. Free at last!

When they were almost to Harlem, they passed another skateboarder, who shot by in a blur. Sloane slowed down and looked backwards. “He called your name.”

“Who? The skateboarder?” Violet slowed herself with one foot, stopped and turned around.

The guy on the skateboard turned around and raced toward them. As he got closer, she recognized Maria’s son, Emilio. A look of fear in his eyes sent an icy chill down Violet’s spine. “Emilio? What’s wrong?”

He dragged one foot on the pavement until he came to a stop. Oddly, he carried a second skateboard under one of his arms. “Actually, I was heading over to your place to get you.”

“To get me?” Violet asked. Weird.

“Yeah.” He kept looking at the pavement, uncomfortable with eye contact, as usual. 

“Why?” Violet asked.

“Rex’s in trouble.” Emilio said. He shivered, wearing only short sleeves.

“Okaaaay? What does that have to do with me? He’s always in trouble.” Violet said, annoyed.

“Who’s Rex?” Sloane asked.

 “Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Violet answered. Turning back to Emilio, she asked. “How do you know him, anyway?” 

The question seemed to make him tense, impatient maybe. “School.” 

“Really?” Violet frowned. Considering she’d known Emilio all of her life, she didn’t know that much about him. How could she when he kept to himself all the time?

“Yep. Since kindergarten.” Emilio said. He shifted his weight and drummed his fingers impatiently against the board he carried.

Violet shook her head in pity. “Dude. That’s too bad for you. Glad he doesn’t go to my school.”

Emilio lifted his chin, and a defensive fire burned in his eyes. “Who would wanna go to your stuck-up school anyway?”

Violet placed her foot on her board. “Okay, I’m outta here. See ya.”

Before she could push off, Emilio touched her shoulder. “No. Wait.” 

Remorse filled his eyes as he held out the skateboard he carried. “I brought this for you. Guess you don’t need it though.”

Was that supposed to be some kind of lame peace offering? And anyway, how had he known Violet didn’t have a board?

“I don’t want to get mixed up in Rex’s trouble,” Violet said. She turned toward Sloane and gestured to keep going. 

He kept pace with them, riding alongside. “He needs help. It’s bad!” 

“Yeah, so what? I don’t care,” Violet said.

“You’re the only one I can think of to help him,” Emilio said.

“Better think harder, then,” she replied. After catching sight of the skate park bathed in overhead lights, she dropped their conversation, zeroed in on the half-pipe, and sped up. 

Finding the park empty except for one novice skate boarder taking the small ramps, she raced to the half-pipe, breathing hard, anticipating the electrifying charge of the drop. Screaming down it at dizzying speeds, she launched herself up the other side. She sailed high, gripping her board. After she smacked into a perfect landing, she threw her head back, laughed, and pumped her arms high in the air. “That was awesome!” She yelled out to no one in particular.

Sloane skidded to a stop near her. “What the—?! Violet, how did you do that? You scared me to death, but it was so cool!”

Trey rode up on his bike, his big smile lighting up his whole face, “Vy! You’re back!”

Violet jumped off her board and ran to hug him. Over Trey’s shoulder, Violet caught Sloane’s amused look, her eyebrows lifting several times. Violet stepped back and said, “Trey, this is my friend, Sloane.”

He assessed Sloane’s fifteen-speed road bike. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said back, sizing up his shabby clothes. After he turned his back to Sloane, she gave Violet a look that clearly implied she didn’t approve of this guy. He wasn’t the polo-and-kaki type they were used to. 

Trey’s eyes held the same shadow of worry that Emilio’s had. Where was Emilio, anyway? Violet spotted him hanging around the far edges of the park turning his attention from her, back to the street as if deciding whether to stay or go.

“You hear ‘bout Rex?” he asked.

“No, what happened?” she replied.

“Got the livin’—” Trey glanced over at Sloane and apparently decided not to cuss. “He got beat up bad.”

A satisfying bit of glee started to pull Violet’s face into a grin. Rex finally got what he deserved. Out of nowhere, her conscience got all prickly and erased her grin. She shivered. “Who did it?”

“I dunno.” He regarded Emilio. “That guy came here lookin’ for you. Told me Rex got beat up bad, but that’s all. You know him?”

“Yeah, that’s Emilio. His mom—” She started to say that his mom worked for her family, but she quickly reconsidered. She didn’t want to make a show of her family’s money. “Our families know each other.”  

Violet motioned for Emilio to come over, and he rushed toward them on his board. His wheels scraped to a hurried halt an inch from Violet’s board. 

“You have to come see him. He needs help now,” Emilio blurted out.

“I came to skate,” Violet said. She started to push herself away on her board, and Emilio grabbed her arm to stop her. His grip wasn’t mean; it was more urgent and desperate. Violet felt the difference, but Trey yanked Emilio’s grip off of her.

“Back off!” Trey warned, pushing his face close to Emilio’s.

“Man, you back off. What’s your problem?” Emilio retorted, squaring his shoulders.

Violet stepped between them, placing a hand on each of their chests, pushing them away from each other. “Hey, hey. Settle down,” she said, her voice stern. “It’s okay Trey. I think he’s just a little… scared, maybe?” She looked to Emilio who stuck out his chin defiantly, but she saw the chill of fear in his eyes. 

“Why do you want me to help him?” Violet asked. “We’re not even friends.”

“Just— please. Come with me, you’ll see what I mean,” Emilio begged.

Uncertain what to do, Violet looked to Sloane for help. 

Sloane hesitated as if weighing the pros and cons in her mind. Finally, she said, “Let’s go.”

About the Author:

Renée Lichtenhan’s “I Am Girl” novels grew out of years of working with children. Renée loves their open minds, hearts,and souls. She wanted to write engaging books that might encourage faith and virtue to take shape within that openness. She lives with her husband in Mississippi, where they raised their three grown children.

Website:  www.ReneeLichtenhan.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Renée-Lichtenhan-Author-1180732865414043/?modal=admin_todo_tour

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

Buy Link: https://www.anaiahpress.com/product/violet/71?cp=true&sa=false&sbp=false&q=false&category_id=6

The star of today’s Cat Tail is Jasper.

Jasper is a beautiful tiger-striped cat with long fluffy hair and a pretty mane. He was born with sad, droopy eyes.

When Jasper was six months old, we had him neutered, along with his littermate, Socks. They were born to a feral cat and lived outside for the first three months until we brought them in to tame them. We couldn’t find homes for the two of them, so after their surgery, I put both Jasper and Socks back outside to live with our other cats in the garage. They’d only been out there a few weeks when Socks got hit by a car and died. So feeling guilty, and worried that something would happen to Jasper, also, I brought Jasper back into the house to stay. In the time that he was outside, he lost all the hair in his mane. (It has since grown back.)

Jasper has a “scaredy-cat” personality. He is especially wary of me. If I walk into the room where he is, he runs away and hides under the furniture. If I pet him when I walk past him, he startles.

Although Jasper has never warmed up to me, he’s affectionate with my kids. My daughter picks him up and holds him, and he loves to cuddle with her. He also stands outside the kids’ rooms when their doors are closed and cries for attention.

Jasper likes being close to our other cats. Anna and Elsa, who are three years older than Jasper, get annoyed with him. When they go to the food dish, he goes with them. When Elsa is lying on the couch, he likes to cuddle up to her. She doesn’t appear to like it, but she tolerates it.

He and his two littermates, Stormy and Ash, often sprawl on the couch together.

Although Jasper acts like a “scaredy-cat” sometimes, he fits in with the rest of our rescued cats and is an important part of our household.

One of my most memorable spring break trips was one I took while living in Saltillo, Mexico in 1988. We went to a small village called San Francisco de __ (I’m sorry I don’t recall the rest of the name. I looked it up on a map, but there are many towns that start with San Francisco, and I couldn’t figure out which one it was).

Shortly after that trip, I wrote a letter to my parents and told them about the spring break experience. My mom kept all of my letters from Mexico. I’ve copied parts of the letter here, with notations to explain things added in parentheses.

“Last week on Tuesday 5 of us went on an adventure: One young guy, who is 17, and 4 of us older girls. We decided to visit San Francisco, not in California, but here about an hour from Saltillo. The church (here in Saltillo) has a church there, and we went to stay with the people and visit them.

“We went by bus to a small town, and ate lunch there with one of the girls’ aunts. Then we started out walking to San Francisco, about 10 miles away, with sleeping bags and all of our overnight bags.

(I don’t know if the distance is correct, but at the time I wrote about it, that is what I thought. Since I was told it in kilometers, which I didn’t know how to convert to miles, I’ve never quite figured out how far we went.)

“On Monday I had gone running with a friend and so my muscles were sore. We went about a mile, and sat down beside the road to rest and pray. We prayed that God would revive our spirits, and send a truck to give us a ride. We started walking, and within 2 minutes a water truck drove by and gave us a ride to a small town, about 5 miles.

“Then we began to walk again, this time with much singing and laughing. I think we went about 2-2 ½ miles before we (got tired and) laid down in the gravel road to rest. I took a couple of pictures, and while I was standing, I saw a pickup truck coming. We waved it down, and the man gave us a ride as far as San Francisco. There were 5 little kids in the cab, and when we climbed in the back, they were all giggling.

“San Francisco is a small town, about 150 people, in the desert/hills region. They have outdoor toilets and animals running around. The people are very hard workers, and generous. We ate dinner with two different church families, and they both fed us coffee and a plate of beans.

“We held a church service, and before the service the 5 of us prayed together. God used the young guy tremendously, and the rest of us were also used to sing and pray and share the Word. No one wanted to leave, and it was 11:15 p.m. when we finally left the church.”

That spring break trip was a great experience for me, and allowed me to become part of something much bigger than myself. I watched God move in the hearts of people as we worshipped and shared together. It holds a place as one of my favorite memories from my time in Mexico.

There are other parts of that trip, not such fun ones, that I will share in next Monday’s post.

My theme for the month of March is “SPRING BREAK.” This week I’m featuring a Christian romantic suspense novel, The Glass Bottom Boat, which is set in Jamaica. You can take a break from whatever is going on in your life and travel to Jamaica between the pages of this book.

The Inspiration behind the Book:

“The inspiration for The Glass Bottom Boat was sparked way back in 2013, when my family vacationed in Jamaica for Spring Break. Even though I have rather a fear of drowning, the resort glass bottom boat piqued my curiosity and we planned a trip for our very last day. Unfortunately, when our last vacation day dawned, a storm swept through the area and no boats were allowed on the ocean. We missed our one chance. I was bitterly disappointed! And then my vivid imagination went into overdrive as I considered various scenarios out on the ocean on such a boat, and exactly how scary it could be for someone afraid of drowning. The rest, well—you can read about it all in the book! Suffice to say The Glass Bottom Boat is a page-turner melding elements of romance, faith, and nail-biting suspense in a tropical setting…”

About the book:

Surrounded by the romantic paradise of her sister’s destination wedding in Jamaica, Madison Grey realizes she must overcome her paralyzing fear of the ocean—and her broken heart— to start living again. Luke Alexander, the groom’s brother, is a missionary who has come to terms with a life of singleness—until he meets Madison.

During the wedding, their personal connection intensifies when a stalker stirs up haunting memories of her gold-digging ex-fiancé.  After Madison mysteriously disappears and the newlyweds receive a ransom note, Luke dives into action to find her. Will he save Madison in time or will she be forced to suffer her worst nightmare… in the depths of a glass bottom boat?

Excerpt:

Excerpt taken from CHAPTER ELEVEN:

     Madison looked along the stretch of beach ahead—it was deserted. Wasn’t the security guy supposed to be around? Of course, he couldn’t be everywhere at the same time, but her skin prickled. Another movement, and she whipped her head back to the dock. Maybe it was a bird. Or maybe she was going crazy.

     She slowed her steps. Time to turn back. For the thousandth time, I wish I could be courageous.

     She caught her breath and took one more look around in case the security guard appeared. Maybe that would help her heart rate return to normal. Jogging in place, she faced the ocean, shielded her eyes, and tried to make out whether there was anyone or anything at the end of the dock. Only the one boat was moored, but it didn’t look like anybody was out there. Unless someone was inside the boat, of course. It was difficult to tell. She removed one earbud in case there were voices…

     A heavy hand on her bare shoulder spun her around. Madison gasped. She was face to face with him. In her next breath, the man held her in a rough embrace.

     “What’s going on?” Her voice was shrill, fearful. “Who are you and what do you want?”

     Where had he come from? The palm trees? Madison tried to wriggle out of his strong arms as panic pulsated in her chest.

     “I want you.” The stranger growled and turned her toward the ocean.

     It was him, the blond man who had followed her the past weekend. Same black clothing, shock of blond hair, shades. And he was pure muscle. She struggled again to get free, ripping the remaining earbud from her ear. He pressed her hands alongside her body and tipped her off balance, and she watched her silver iPod and her sunglasses hit the sand.

     An ugly tattoo of a dragon danced before her eyes, writhing while the man’s arm flexed around her waist. Madison screamed, but his meaty hand stifled it. In one fluid motion, her legs went from under her, and she was being carried to the dock. In a mad scramble, she flailed her legs and twisted her head around to slam it into the guy’s face. He grunted when his mirrored shades flew off. Icy blue eyes stared back at her, haunting and evil.

     No.

     He studied her intently for a heartbeat, their noses almost touching. The strong scent of expensive cologne stung her nostrils and he squeezed her even tighter. Blue Eyes marched on, and through her tears, she saw their destination and somehow found the energy to thrash in his arms one more time.

     Where was everyone? Why couldn’t anybody see what was happening? Was she being kidnapped?

     She glanced back in the direction of the deserted beach. Not a soul walked along this stretch. Why had she chanced running this morning? And why hadn’t she turned back when she first felt anxious? Was that God nudging her? Foolish girl.

     Madison bared her teeth and bit into the fleshy part of Blue Eyes’s palm. He didn’t even flinch but clamped his hand even tighter. She fought the growing nausea in the pit of her stomach. Another man wearing sunglasses and a hoodie appeared as they neared the end of the dock. Two against one would be no match. Madison used every last ounce of energy she could muster to kick and elbow her kidnapper. But he was too strong, and he leered as she fought back. It was hopeless. The other man took something from his hoodie pocket. With a flourish, he brandished a yellow cloth, and as Blue Eyes pulled his hand away, the cloth was pressed across her nose and mouth.

     “No.” She screamed into the fabric. The suffocating smell of antiseptic and alcohol consumed her senses. Thoughts of Chloe in her wedding dress, her parents in their backyard, her students at school, and then Luke by the bonfire swirled lazily in the corners of her mind. Focus, Madison. Focus. She tried to turn her face away from the cloth, but the other man’s firm hands grasped the back of her head in a vise grip. She could see a blurring image of hoodie guy as he stood over her and watched for several seconds, his head cocked like he was memorizing her.

     And the last thing she spotted before the haziness turned black was the glass bottom boat.

About the author:

A published Christian author, Laura writes heartwarming encouragement for your soul. She has three Christian romantic suspense novels published as well as a Christian teen fiction trilogy, marriage book, middle-grade novel, several anthology books, devotionals, articles, and stories in magazines and online.

Laura is a chocoholic mom of three, married to her high school sweetheart—originally from the UK, they live in Kelowna, British Columbia as audacious empty-nesters.

Author media links:

INSTAGRAM: @lauracthomas 

FACEBOOK PAGE: @LauraThomasAuthor

TWITTER: @Laura_Thomas_

PINTEREST: lauracthomas

GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5837074.Laura_Thomas

BOOKBUB: https://bit.ly/2Uj4gyR

YOUTUBE: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCAIg1LlXedxtfqmEAssdgnQ

Website: https://laurathomasauthor.com

Buy Link: https://www.anaiahpress.com/product/the-glass-bottom-boat/31?cp=true&sa=false&sbp=false&q=false&category_id=3

The Glass Bottom Boat is the first book in the Flight to Freedom Series.

A few months ago, I ran out of the hazelnut coffee that I like. The grocery store didn’t have the brand I usually buy. Looking around at the other coffees, I spotted one called Mackinac Island Fudge. Since the Island is one of my favorite vacation spots, and I love the fudge from there, I purchased the coffee and tried it.

The fudge-flavored coffee tastes so good, but it’s expensive. To make it more special and to justify the expense, I treat myself to a package of it as a reward whenever I met a writing deadline. I’m about to run out of it, and I don’t have any current deadlines to meet.

It’s time to set a new goal, but I don’t know what to work on next.

I have so many manuscripts in various stages of writing, but I always come back to the Legacy of Courage series. As many of you know, I wrote and self-published the Courage books, beginning in 2007 with spiral bound copies. Do you remember how tiny the print was in the originals? A friend of mine had to read it with two pair of reading glasses in order to see the print.

In 2012, I published the book again in a regular binding. I went on to publish books 2-6. I didn’t sell a lot of them, but I have a good and faithful following.

Last weekend I reread the Courage series. Working with a professional editor through the publishing process on another book, I’ve learned a lot about writing styles and point of view. When I compare my Courage books with what I’ve learned, they need a lot of editing before I can pursue looking for an agent and/or publisher.

The first book, Courage to Hope, has already undergone several revisions. Each time I ordered reprints, I modified the story, changing some things to fit the historical time frame more accurately. I’m sure if I looked at it again, there would be more things I could change.

However, I’m not sure I want to make any more changes. A lot of you love the Courage series as is, even though there were many mistakes in the original. I don’t want to mess with a good thing. I’m debating whether to edit and update it in an effort to find a home for the series, or to leave them as is, and continue selling them myself.

In 2019, I had a new cover designed. The reason for the change is because in the original cover, the barn is too modern-looking and in too good shape to depict the one in the story. Both the old cover and new cover are pictured below:

My poll today is twofold:

1. Should I rewrite and update Courage to Hope and try to find an agent and/or publisher for it, or leave it as is and continue to sell the books myself?

2. If I continue to self-publish, which cover do you suggest I use for reprints?

With either option, the biggest cost is marketing. Finding a publisher might mean more exposure and sales, but self-publishing means I can keep the story intact and move forward. Book 7 is already underway, and there is an outline for future books with the same characters.

If you’ve read the Courage series and have an opinion on either point, please leave a comment below, or on my personal or author Facebook pages. Your opinions are very important to me.