SNEAK PEEK! Less than 48 hours away from "WARNING IN WAUKESHA!"

Good evening:

So, file reviews being what they are, the best guess is that my newest Nora Hill novel, "Warning in Waukesha" will be available online in print or digital form in the next 48 hours.

This book took a lot longer than I anticipated to finish.  Why?  This one was a soul struggle for me.

There are two reasons I began writing Christian fiction:

The first most people know, that I set a challenge for myself to come up with a fictional heroine set in modern times with modern temptations and modern questions about faith, family, and perceptions.  I believe, with Nora Hill, I've done that.  And since is my third book with her, I've come to know her very well. She's the character, in all of my books, who is most like me.

Which brings me to my second reason for writing Christian fiction.  I've been a devout practicing Christian my whole life. That does not mean I haven't questioned my faith, the teachings of my church, and God in general from time to time.  In recent years I've found myself struggling especially hard to find what it is God wants of me following the diagnosis of mental illnesses  for two very close family members. I've wrestled to balance the clear cut "right and wrong" world my parents lived in, the one I was raised in, to the more subtle shades of today's morality and how it pertains to my children and the other young people I love and respect.  

This is a difficult world to live in, no matter where your faith lies, I think that's one thing we can all agree upon.  So, writing Nora's stories has become more and more of a personal battle, a personal vein opening, if you will, for me.  "Warning in Waukesha" not only takes place in a a town I call home, much of the storyline hits very close to my heart.

Below is a tiny peek at the book. This is the first time ever I've released parts of this one to anyone. I'm so excited!

Watch in the next couple days for the book release on my Amazon author page. But in the meantime, please enjoy this sneak peek!

“Oh look, Nora, there’s Cassie Wilson. You remember her from the Rochester Deli yesterday, right?”

I look over my shoulder, just to please Mom, because there’s no way in the world I’m going to recognize Cassie Wilson right now. Turns out, she’s serving sandwiches and cake to the mourners. She brings a tray of cold ham sandwiches to our table and as I take the tray from her, our hands brush. The tray slips out of my hands, fortunately falling onto the table. Not that there’s anything I can do about it at the moment, I’m too busy trying very hard not to pass out.

There is no doubt in my mind that something is going to happen to Cassie and I’m going to be the one to have to track her down when it does happen.  Apparently this gift of finding missing children, this gift I love so well, (get my sarcasm) has broadened and now adults who are clearing just fine and dandy are landing on my list.

Oh goodie.

My cell buzzes. I blink away the last of the dizziness, and look at the screen. It’s Sam. I ignore the call. This is not the time or place for more angst. I need to clear my head and get ready for the next step in the whole “finding Cassie” process. Which means I need to listen for a quiet voice that’s going to tell me where to find her.

A little too mystical for most people’s tastes, but that’s my life.

My mother chit-chats for almost half an hour before deciding she’s been there long enough to satisfy the rules of church etiquette. Once inside the confines of the car, she rattles off a litany of complaints about this person and that person, all fine, upstanding church members who have said or done something she finds inexcusable. She relays how one of Lily’s precious lambs was wronged by the demon spawn grandchild of another member and she, Brenda Hill, was just about at the end of her rope with it all.

Normally I ignore Mom when she’s on a rant about church. When I was a kid her rants were directed toward Dad, who could absorb them with an easy grace. Since his passing, she’s gotten more involved (if that’s even possible) in the church and with more involvement comes more stories about people who just aren’t doing Christianity right.

She seems really worked up for someone who just ate two pieces of decorated funeral cake, so I ignore my better judgement and ask a question. “Mom, if this church makes you so upset, why don’t you just find one you like better?”

I know I’ve said something monumentally stupid. Mom takes a break in her constant stream of vocalizing to gather herself to squash a challenge she deems to be ridiculous. “Nora, I can’t just leave that church. I’ve been a member there since your father died. All my friends are there.”

“Well, you wouldn’t know it to hear you talk.”

I don’t know why I say things. I should just be quiet.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, given how you don’t darken the door of a church unless someone forces you. I pray for you, Nora, I pray for you every day.”

It’s nice she’s praying for me, even though I know she doesn’t mean for me to think it’s nice. I’ll bet she doesn’t have to pray for Lily and Rose. “Mom, all I’m saying is that if your church is making you miserable, maybe there’s one where people, you know, don’t irritate you.”

Mom shakes her head. We’re back at her house and in her driveway, which means the discussion is over because we both know this isn’t one we’re bringing into the house. “I can’t just pull up stakes from my church because someone bugs me, Nora. That’s not how it works.”

Sitting on her perfect settee, watching a humid Saturday pass me by, I roll her words over in my mind and realize that maybe it’s not that easy for her, but it maybe should be. I have my doubts that there’s a church out there where a person like me is going to feel at ease, but I keep looking. I’d like to help Mom find a church that gives her more peace than irritation.

My phone buzzes again. Sam, again.

Guess I’ll have to worry about my mother’s church home another time. I can’t ignore Sam forever.