Letters in the Attic by DeAnna Julie Dodson

Please welcome author and friend DeAnna Julie Dodson! Tell us about your new book.

Letters in the Attic is about Annie Dawson who finds
Annie Dawson a stack of old letters from her childhood friend Susan Morris in her grandmother’s attic in Stony Point, Maine.

Annie remembers Susan fondly and would like to get back in touch, but nobody seems to know what’s become of her. Her friends at The Hook and Needle Club aren’t

much help either. All they remember is that Susan left town more than twenty years ago to marry a very wealthy man, but none of them is quite sure who he was. And Annie can find no record of any marriage. The more Annie searches, the more she begins to wonder if something has happened to Susan. Something bad.

DeAnna Julie Dodson is the author of In Honor Bound, By Love Redeemed and To Grace Surrendered, a trilogy of medieval romances, and Letters in the Attic, a contemporary mystery in the Annie’s Attic series. She is currently working on The Drew Farthering Mysteries, a new series of books set in 1930s England. A graduate of the University of Texas at Dallas, she currently lives in North Texas with four spoiled cats and, when not writing, enjoys quilting, cross stitch and NHL hockey.

Q: Tell us about your latest book.
A: I’m very excited about the release of Letters in the Attic an Annie’s Attic Mystery. Letters is the fourth book in this new series about Annie Dawson, a widow from Texas who goes up to clean out and sell her late grandmother’s Victorian house in Maine only to find a whole attic full of intriguing and sometimes mysterious objects. The series particularly interested me because Annie and her friends are all needleworkers — knitters, crocheters, quilters, cross-stitchers — and I’ve been interested in needlework for as long as I can remember.

Q: Letters in the Attic came out this summer from DRG. What's your favorite part of the story?
A: I think I enjoyed writing Officer Roy Hamilton the most. I actually didn’t think much about him at first. He was meant to be a very minor character who was there just to take fingerprints. Soon, though, he let me know that that was not going to be enough for him. He put on his mirrored sunglasses and sauntered up to me and said he just knew I had something more important for him to do. And darned if he wasn’t right!

Q: What do you hope your readers will get out of the story?
A: I think the most important thing is that there is freedom in truth. Hiding from it only weighs you down and keeps you prisoner. Facing the truth breaks those chains and breaks the hold of those who would use the fear of that truth against you. Once it’s in the light of day, whatever it is you’re hiding from, it loses its power.

Q: Who do you rely on for help when writing?
A: Writing can be a very lonely and isolated job. And the worst part of it is that, once you’ve written something, you can never see it the way a new reader will see it. Obviously, you know what you meant to say when you wrote it, but does it really say that? Really? You just have to have a pre-reader look it over, someone who will speak the truth in love and tell you honestly what works and what doesn’t. I met author Robin Hardy (The Chataine’s Guardian and many, many more) when I took a “Writing Christian Fiction” class at the local community college.

At that point, I didn’t imagine I would ever actually be published. She was so gracious and so kind to this very green wannabe writer. She actually read through my 250,000-word manuscript (the one that became In Honor Bound) and showed me how to improve it and, more importantly, how I could cut it down to a manageable length. Now, years later, she’s still my first and best pre-reader and a terrific friend. She catches inconsistencies and stupid mistakes and tells me when something just falls flat. I would so much rather hear it from her than from my editor or, worst of all, from my readers. I’m so blessed to know her!

Q: Aside from writing, what takes up most of your time?
A: I’m addicted to cross-stitch and quilting. I have just a ton of projects yet to be done because I want to do everything. That’s one of the reasons I have enjoyed working on this series so much. I can relate to the ladies in the Annie’s Attic Mysteries who love to make beautiful things by hand.

Q: What advice would you give to an unpublished writer?
A: I suppose there are writing prodigies out there, people who can just sit down and write perfection from word one, but I’ve never met anyone like that. The only way I know to succeed in writing is to write. And write. And write. And read a lot. And write more.

I’ve heard it said that it takes about ten thousand hours to really master the craft of writing. Shortcuts don’t work. Put in your time. There’s really no other way to end up with a product that will make you proud. But while you’re putting in your time, don’t get discouraged. Really learning to write is a long, arduous process. It’s usually a thankless job. Lots of people say they want to write. Very few stick with it long enough to actually become writers. Writing is a lonely business. It can be a very discouraging one. But if it’s something God has called you to do, there is nothing else as satisfying. Stay the course. Learn your craft. Write the book that’s on your heart. God will use it where He sees fit.

Visit DeAnna's web site here.

Stop by her blog.

Purchase Letters in the Attic here:

Awake O North Winds

Sunday morning we sang the Misty Edward's song, Fling Wide. The opening verse is, "Awake, awake O north wind, awake, awake O south wind, blow over me."

I paused worship to explain. This song is from Song of Solomon chapter four.

v16 "Awake, O north wind,
And come, wind of the south;
Make my garden breathe out fragrance,
Let its spices be wafted abroad
May my beloved come into his garden

And eat its choice fruits!"

I know this book has been relegated to human relationships, mostly marriage, but what a disservice to this amazing book of God's love for us; of the Bridegrooms love for His Bride.

The language is poetic so we dismiss it as something we can't understand, or to snickering sexual language between Solomon and his wife. (One of them anyway.)

This book is about Jesus's incredible love for us. Why He would leave the splendor and majesty of heaven to become a man and die on a cruel cross.

Verse sixteen is talking about the seasons of life that cause us to lean into Jesus. The north winds speak of the cold trial of winter. A season in our life where things are difficult. The south winds speak of the warm gentle season of our life where life is easy and good.

In all seasons, our hearts (the garden) must breathe out the fragrance of Jesus when the winds blow. Are you in a "winter season?" Then let your heart waft with the fragrance of Jesus by leaning against Him.

Are you in a summer season? Then let your heart perfume the world around you with the love of Jesus.

We must constantly be His fragrance no matter what physical or emotional trials are going on around us.

Fling wide the door to your soul. Let the Lord in. Let the winds blow. The good seasons remind us of His goodness. The hard seasons remind us of... His goodness.

I can't know His love and goodness without them. Sure, I hate the hard seasons. I'd rather bask in the summer winds all year long, but in the winter, I learn to lean.

Sometimes it seems seasons change from one day to the next, doesn't it? Or from morning to afternoon. My summer morning can be turned into a winter afternoon by an email or twitter. It's ridiculous, really.

But my prayer is always to be leaning into Jesus. He is my rock! He is my fortress. He is my one true love.

The goal is to not create my own north or south winds but to keep my gaze fixed on Him.

What season are you in? Are you leaning into Jesus? He is the only one who can sustain you.

Formula for Danger by Camy Tang

Please welcome my friend, the lovely and gracious author, Camy Tang.

HER LIFE WAS ON THE LINE...

Someone wants dermatologist Rachel Grant's latest research, and they'll do -- anything -- to get it.

Including trashing the plants needed for her breakthrough scar-reducing cream-- and trying to run Rachel down.

Desperate for help,she turns to Edward Villa, the only man she trusts. But the greenhouse owner knows too much about Rachel's research, and now he's a target too.

Break-ins, muggings, murder..the would-be thief is getting desperate -- and getting closer. Edward vows to protect Rachel at all costs. Yet with time ticking away, Edward knows they have to uncover the madman shadowing Rachel before their chance for a future is destroyed.

Visit Camy's web site here. And read her blog here. You can buy Camy's book on all major book sites and book stores.

Excerpt of chapter one:

Dr. Rachel Grant had walked only a few feet out the back door of her family's Sonoma day spa, Joy Luck Life, when the patter of running footsteps behind her made her turn.

She had only a glimpse of a dark hoodie and a tall, lanky figure before a shove sent her sprawling onto the sidewalk. Thwack! Her left cheekbone collided with the cement, sending pain lancing through her head.

Snow clouded her vision and she struggled to open her eyes. Her heart pounded in her throat, making it hard for her to breathe. Frantic, she opened her mouth wide but no sound came out.

She glanced up. The backsides of dirty sneakers filled her field of view as they trotted away from her. Then a hand scooped up the bag strap of her sister Naomi's laptop computer, which had flown from Rachel's grip to land on the edge of the pool of light from the parking lot streetlamp. The sneakers hustled away.

Breathe! Rachel forced her wooden lungs to fill and tried to scream, but only a harsh croak came out. Where were the security guards? They should have seen the attack thanks to the outside video cameras. How long would it take for them to run out here?

Even worse, Naomi would be devastated to lose that laptop, which she'd bought barely five hours ago.

She heard the creak of the spa's back door, then more footsteps. "Rachel! Rach, are you okay?" Naomi fell to her knees beside her, hands on Rachel's shoulders. "I was talking to Martin, and we saw it all on the security camera." Martin, one of the security guards, raced past them, pursuing the stranger and the laptop.

In the distance, a woman's voice screeched, "What are you doing? Don't leave me!" It sounded as if it had come from the front of the spa.

Who was that? What was going on?

Rachel pushed herself up, her cheekbone throbbing as she rose. She squeezed her eyes shut to the wave of pain and paused on her knees, her head bowed.

Naomi put her arm around her. "Where are you hurt?"

"Just my cheek."

Naomi pulled Rachel's hair away from her face to look at her. Rachel had a hard time opening her eyes again as the pain splashed across her forehead, trickling back inside her skull. "How bad is it?"

"You'll have a black eye, that's for sure. We need to get you to the hospital."

"No, I'll have Monica look at it first. If the family nurse says so, then I'll go to the hospital." Just the thought of all the people in a crowded emergency room made Rachel cringe. She only wanted a quiet place to lie down and recover. "I'm sorry about your laptop."

"Forget the laptop, I'm worried about you."

"I only took a fall, nothing worse. But that laptop was new—"

"I can buy a new one. Besides, I'm almost glad it was new because it didn't have anything on it, so the spa didn't lose any sensitive information. That would have been worse." Especially since Naomi still managed the spa while their father recovered from his stroke. Naomi had bought the computer to help her with the spa's accounting.

"We should call the police and report it stolen."

"We should call Dad and Aunt Becca first." Naomi dug her cell phone out of her pocket.

"Call Aunt Becca. Aren't she and Detective Carter out to dinner tonight?" The two of them were dating again after an argument that had kept them apart for a few months. It was almost 10:00 p.m., but they might still be together at a movie.

As Naomi talked to Aunt Becca—who indeed was with Detective Horatio Carter—Rachel managed to sit up, although the evening sky spun around her. She clutched her hands together, trying to stop their shaking. She'd been attacked in the spa parking lot!

Clicking heels made Rachel look up. Gloria Reynolds, one of Naomi's massage clients, tripped toward them. "Dr. Grant, are you all right? Did that man hurt you?"

"Ms. Reynolds, you're still here?" Not the most tactful thing to say, but her headache was making it hard for her to be polite.

"Ms. Reynolds was my last client for tonight," Naomi told Rachel as she ended her call with Aunt Becca.

Gloria flipped her highlighted hair with a manicured hand. "The security guard was walking me to my car when he saw that person running away. Miss Grant," Gloria said to Naomi, "you really should talk to that guard. He ran after the person and left me by myself. Even when I called to him. And it was obvious the other guard was after the man, too, so there was no need for him to give chase."

Naomi smiled politely and responded with amazing courtesy when Rachel knew she must be rolling her eyes inside.

A flash of car headlights made Rachel wince as a vehicle headed down the spa driveway.

Then alarm jolted through her. The spa was closed, and the security guards, running after the thief toward the drive way, would have stopped the car from entering. Were the guards okay?

The car maneuvered into the staff parking lot, then stopped right next to them. A door opened and slammed shut. "Rachel!"

Edward Villa's voice made her heart leap into her throat, then settle back down in her chest, racing. Edward was here. Suddenly everything seemed okay.

No, she had to stop reacting this way to him. He didn't think of her as anything other than a client.

"Are you all right?"

She smelled him—pine, a hint of the orchids he worked with at his greenhouses and earthy musk—before her eyes registered that he was crouched in front of her, edging out Ms. Reynolds.

"The guards told me what happened when I drove in."

She had been able to keep it together when talking to Naomi, but somehow, his concern for her undermined her control over her emotions, and she steeled her jaw against a sudden onslaught of wild sobbing. Casting herself into his arms would only solidify his cool opinion of her, which he had made abundantly clear a couple months ago.

"Rachel." He reached out for her.

She held up a hand to stop him.

He grasped her hand, engulfing her fingers. His callused fingers rubbed her knuckles. His touch made her head spin.

"I'm fine," she whispered, breathless. She pulled her hand away.

The security guards walked up to them. "I'm sorry, Miss Grant, he got away. He ran up the driveway, and there was a car waiting for him at the end of it. They took off."

"Dr. Grant, are you okay?" the other guard asked, peering at Rachel.

She felt like a bug on display. "I'm fine." She heaved herself to her feet, but it made the blood pound painfully in her head. She swayed.

Edward's arm wrapped around her, making the earth stand still again. It felt good to be held by him. It felt…

Too good. She pulled away from him.

Edward paused a moment, then he bent down and collected her purse, which had dropped and scattered its contents when she fell. As he handed it to her, his eyes were calm, but somehow she could sense a fire burning behind them. As if other emotions ran deeper.

She didn't understand. While they had been working together for the past year on Rachel's new product for the spa, they had gotten closer, and she had felt free to be herself with him. But then, in the past couple months, he had withdrawn from her, become distant and polite.

Maybe he had seen who she really was…and he hadn't liked what he saw.

The thought was like a punch to her gut, every time she thought it. Which had been often in the past two months.

No, maybe he had never been interested in her, and he'd suddenly become aware that he was leading her on. Regardless, recently he had been clear in showing that he had no interest in her beyond a good business relationship.

She was just imagining the emotion in his eyes was deeper than natural concern. "Thank you." She took her purse from him, avoiding touching his hand again.

The silence was thicker than cold cream.

"Rachel—" he began.

"Here you go, Miss Rachel." Martin, a security guard who had been with them for years, handed her an ice pack he must have gotten from inside the spa. "That'll keep the swelling down from that shiner."

His light words made her smile, made the situation not seem so horribly violating. "Thanks, Martin." She pressed the cold pack to her eye, and found that it enabled her to avoid looking at Edward.

"Ms. Reynolds," Naomi said, "let me escort you back inside. We can wait for the police in one of the lounge rooms."

Rachel stayed outside and watched them reenter the spa. She tried not to remember what had happened, but it came to her in flashes. She shivered. She'd been bullied in grade school because she'd been a geek and a bit odd, but no one had ever assaulted her. Even bickering with her sisters Naomi and Monica had never gone beyond a little hair-pulling.

But tonight, someone had deliberately hurt her. It made her feel weak and vulnerable. Not in control.

And she didn't like it.

She especially didn't like that it had happened here, at the spa.

She suddenly realized that Edward had no reason to visit her here. They usually talked on the phone about the basil plants he was growing for production of her new spa product and met at his greenhouses. Why was he at the spa this late at night? "Edward, what are you doing here?"

His eyes were deep obsidian pools as they studied her, then he surprised her by looking away.

"Edward?"

He sighed. "I called your home and your sister Monica said you were still here."

"Did you try calling my cell phone? Did I not hear it ringing?" She fumbled in her purse and grasped the rubbery edge of her rugged waterproof cell phone—a necessity since she'd ruined two phones by using them while working in the lab with chemicals.

"No, I didn't call."

Avoidance wasn't Edward's style—neither was this vague evasiveness. "Then what…?"

He didn't answer immediately, and his face was grave. "I came to the spa to tell you something you're not going to like."

Her heart beat hard, once. But really, how could her day get any worse? "Lay it on me. I'm ready."

"Earlier tonight, someone broke into greenhouse four."

"Greenhouse four? My greenhouse?" Technically, it was his greenhouse, but the only things in it were her Malaysian basil plants. "Were you there? Are you okay?"

He paused, and his searching gaze made her stomach flip. But she lifted her head and tightened her muscles to keep her molten insides in place.

"I'm fine. I wasn't there when it happened."

"Oh. Good." She tried to slow her racing heart. "Did you call the police?"

"Yes. I left my brother, Alex, to meet with them while I came to talk to you. On the way, I called Horatio Carter, who said he was also headed here with your aunt, so that was fortunate. I'm hoping he'll come back to the greenhouse with me tonight."

"How did you find out about the break-in?"

"I left my cell phone in greenhouse six, so I went to get it. I noticed movement in the yard, and when I went to check the greenhouses, I found yours unlocked."

Her headache became a jackhammer against her skull. "Was everything okay?"

The lines deepened around his mouth. "No. Someone trashed it—all your plants."

She gasped.

"Don't panic too much. Alex is moving the plants to greenhouse seven right now, and I can salvage most of it."

"Most of it?" She needed Edward to cultivate a certain number of plants so she could make the extract for her scar-reduction cream, scheduled to launch in only five months. She couldn't be late. The spa depended on her new product launch. "Will you be able to grow more? I need…" She faltered at the shadow that crossed his eyes.

He replied evenly, "Your research will be fine, Rachel."

His distant tone confused her. What had she said? She switched tactics. "You left your cell phone in a greenhouse? You never do that. If you hadn't forgotten it…"

A half smile twitched at his mouth. "God was watching over your plants, I think."

The familiar way he said it made something squirm inside her. Edward had always had such a different relationship with God than she did, and it seemed to widen the gap between them. "Why didn't the alarm go off? I thought the greenhouses all had security alarms in place."

"They do—to monitor temperature and humidity, and also to alert when a window or door is opened. But the system in greenhouse four didn't go off. I checked it, and it looks like the thief tampered with it."

"Aren't those security alarms top-of-the-line? High-tech?"

He nodded. "Whoever did this was a professional, not your average thief."

The mild California fall breeze was suddenly frosty against her skin. "How about the other greenhouses?"

"I checked them all. Only yours was broken into."

"Only mine?" This was a blow she didn't know if she could bear, not on top of everything that had happened tonight. She bit her lip.

It almost looked as if he didn't know what to do with his hands, finally resting them on his slim hips. "I don't understand it. Some of the plants in my other greenhouses are extremely rare and valuable, but whoever came by didn't even touch them."

She'd seen those plants—exotic orchids and rare rain-forest species, mostly commissioned by wealthy clients because of Edward's reputation for cultivating delicate tropical plants. "None of them were taken?"

If the burglar could have dismantled the security alarm for one greenhouse, surely he could have dismantled the security alarms for the others. Or maybe he hadn't had time to because Edward had discovered the thief's activities. But why bother with destroying her plants when he could have more quickly gotten into the other greenhouses and stolen the rarer species?

Edward's eyes pinned her with concern and gravity. "The thief entered only greenhouse four, Rach—the thief was only after your plants."

Edward hated chaos, and it surrounded him in greenhouse four—broken pots, torn leaves and potting soil dusting everything. He stood in the midst of the destruction and sighed.

It wasn't actually that bad. He'd discovered the open door before the temperature had dropped too much, and now Rachel's plants were all in greenhouse seven. He was also planning on paying for an evening guard to walk the greenhouses—at least until the person responsible for this was caught.

Detective Carter glanced up from where he surveyed some toppled tables. "It would have been better for me if you'd left the scene as is, Edward."

"Sorry, Detective, but Malaysian basil is extremely sensitive to temperature and humidity. The plants could have died within the hour."

Detective Carter shrugged and went back to taking notes.

"Thanks for convincing Rachel not to come out here tonight, Horatio," Edward said.

The detective shook his head, his thinning red-gold hair glinting dully in the fluorescent light. "She didn't need to see this. She's had a bad night already. How many plants survived?"

"Almost all of them, actually."

Home Sweet Home

The past eleven days have been the most crazy, busy, fun days I've had in awhile. Sadly, all without my hubby.

On the 11th I attended the Ohio State v. Miami Hurricanes game. I hadn't been in the Horseshoe in

over 23 years and was simply overwhelmed at the grandness of the stadium.

Twenty-five years ago this December I graduated from Ohio State. When the college of Arts and

Sciences invited "me" back for an alumni

reunion, I couldn't resist.

None

of my friends were going, but I thought it would wonderful to be back on campus, go to a game.

I won't bore you with the details of how I actually got a great ticket to the game and how I arranged to get to Columbus, but I had a blast. The line in Carmen Ohio, our alumni song, is so true, "How firm thy friendship, O-HI-O."

After the game, I met up with my Columbus cousins and aunt. There is something about "blood" and being with people, no matter how many years in betw

een visits, who come from the same family line. A Hayes family reunion is in the works! (Here we are doing the "Dave Hayes" face. LOL!)

I spent Sunday in southern Ohio visiting my lovely, dear Aunt Betty and the town where my father grew up. As I'm about to start a book where the heroine has no connection with her family history, visiting a town where my grandmother was raise as well as my father and his brothers, brought to focus how much our heritage can impact our life, give us a sense of belonging.

Monday I headed back to Indianapolis and my in-laws. Spent all of Monday and Tuesday going over the final draft of Softly and Tenderly. My in-laws were such good company, letting me work, but feeding me occasionally.

Wednesday, I headed to the downtown Hyatt for the ACFW conference. Good buddy and writing partner Susan May Warren came into town and we had an evening to catch up before being swamped with conference business.

The conference was excellent, the best part being able to see my writing friends and colleagues, my editor(s) and publisher, my agent in one place. The ACFW Worship Band did a fantastic job this year and I'm so grateful to them and their faithfulness.

We usually get a few hours to practice the song list and "gel" as a team and then it's go-time. But the unity we have by the Spirit of God keeps us together and gives us a sound.

I was blessed by the testimonies people shared with me about worship over the years at the conference. I'm so humbled to be used by God in such a way.

The first annual Carol Awards, named in honor of Carol Johnson, a Bethany House editor who saw the value in fiction and acquired a prairie romance by then unknown Janette Oke. Love Comes Softly changed the face of Christian fiction.

(Janette Oke with Carol Johnson.)

When I met Janette, I was in tears. Because of her heart for story, because of Carol's vision when the Christian fiction landscape was bleak, I get to live my dream! And all the writers of ACFW. It was almost overwhelming.

Carol is so gracious and humble, it was an honor to see her honored.

The Sweet By and By was up for the Carol Award, but we didn't win. And yes, it was an honor to be nominated.

I loved seeing my friends and connecting with new ones. So many little details I could write about but it was just a fabulous weekend.

Monday I went back to my in-laws and crashed. :) Had a fun phone call that might result in fun news down the line. Stay tuned.

Tuesday I flew home. I was very grateful to see my hubby and our little dog, too!

Today, I'm catching up with email and Facebook, writing blogs, kind of taking a day to recoup. I can fee the tired in my bones.

By the way, Sara's new song, A Little Bit Stronger is out! Down load it for a listen! It's a great song.

More later! Peace, peace, peace.

I'm going to a Buckeye Football game

Lots going on this weekend. Not necessarily in my life, but around the world and in your neighborhood.

I'm finishing up Love Lifted Me with Sara Evans. I'll be glued to my desk chair for the next few days but I'm excited to "have written!"

Today at 11CST I'll be on Kitchen Chat with Maragret McSweeney. Check my Twitter box for the link.

It's opening college football weekend! Just a big fat "Yay!" to this great fall season tradition.

Next week I'm off to Ohio State for the 25th reunion for the class of '85. I was just going to go to the cook out and tailgate party but last night I bought a ticket to the game! I'm on A Deck for those of you in the know and we're playing Miami Hurricanes and I CANNOT WAIT! It's going to be a great game, great weekend and I'll be raising my song to the alma mater.

I'm going by myself. Hubby can't go due to work and other schedule conflicts so I'm bummed about that but I'm going to have a great time. I'll blog about going to the game by myself.

After the game, I'm driving south to my father's home town to visit my aunt and cousin. Then back to my in-laws in Indy to prep for the ACFW conference.

Lots going on the weekend of the 17th - 19th. I'm leading worship, teaching a continue education class with Susan May Warren and tackling my own workshop on metaphors.

But "I'M GOING TO A BUCKEYE FOOTBALL GAME" may just be the highlight of my year.

Well, I've had a few other fun highlights this past week of which I cannot speak but when and if I can, I'll let you all know.

In other good news, I signed a new contract with Thomas Nelson for a book called The Wedding Dress about a hundred year old gown that impacts the lives of four women. "One dress, four woman, and amazing God journey." I'm very excited about this book.

Peace out. Back to writing.

Pearls in the Sand by Tessa Afshar

This week, the

Christian Fiction Blog Alliance

is introducing

Pearl In The Sand Moody Publishers (September 1, 2010)

by Tessa Afshar

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Tessa Afshar was born in a nominally Muslim family in Iran and lived there for the first fourteen years of her life. She survived English boarding school for girls before moving to the United States permanently. Her conversion to Christianity in her mid-twenties changed the course of her life forever. Tessa holds an MDIV from Yale University where she served as co-Chair of the Evangelical Fellowship at the

Divinity School. She has spent the last twelve years in full and part-time Christian work and currently serves as the leader of Women’s and Prayer ministries at a church in Connecticut.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Can a Canaanite harlot who has made her livelihood by looking desirable to men make a fitting wife for one of the leaders of Israel? Shockingly, the Bible’s answer is yes. At the age of fifteen Rahab is forced into prostitution by her beloved father. In her years as a courtesan, she learns to mistrust men and hate herself. Into the emotional turmoil of her world walks Salmone, a respected leader of Judah. Through the tribulations of a stormy relationship, Rahab and Salmone learn the true

source of one another’s worth in God and find healing from fear and rejection.

If you would like to read the first chapter of Pearl In The Sand, go HERE

Watch the book video: