Last Free Chapters!

The last of the free chapters are uploaded.  Would love to hear from you. rev nano2


My NaNo Novel for 2014!

I had actually decided not to write for the NaNoWriMo challenge this year, but after a “friend” bugged me to do it, I did. I already had a story in mind, but had not determined what I wanted to do with it. So, a couple of weeks before the first of November, I developed my characters, my story map, and my fictional city–complete with a grid of the streets and location of all major buildings. I completed my research and typed up my notes, and on November 1, 2014, at 4:30 a.m. I started writing. By November 9, 2014 at approximately, 2:00 p.m. I had finished the first 50K! Now, near the near, I am revising (2nd round) and my word count is over 72K. Since i plan to publish the “finished” work (after 3 more rounds of revising and editing), it will be available on Amazon as an eBook, hopefully before the end of January.

At any rate, here’s what the cover looks like–right now.

rev nano2 There’s an excerpt on the NaNoWriMo site and I’ll probably post it again, soon! Some ideas are worth pursuing! This one certainly was!

Change Our Thoughts!

As I was looking at the news this morning, my heart was heavy as I heard about:  rapes, conspiracies to murder, murders, robberies, and adultery.  These are the travesties that only we, as human beings, can control.  How can we control them?  We must change how we think!

Paul admonished the church at Philippi to “think on those things that will bring honor and glory to God” (paraphrased summary).  Okay, let me break it down this way. “Whatever is true, right, pure, lovely, noble, admirable and praiseworthy, think on these things” (Philippians 4:8)

If every human being on the planet would simply change their thoughts, change how they view other people, change their perceptions of living in harmony and peace, change how they think about what is right in God’s eyes, and change their view of God’s Word (endeavoring to use it as a model for living in peace), what a wonderful world this would be. We must remember we cannot change what we do until we change how we think!

God cannot bless “stinking thinking” and I’m sure there are many whose thoughts are perverted since I see the results on the news.  Can we change the outcome and not see so much human carnage?  We can pray that God will cause situations to occur in the lives of people to make them “think” differently, think more like Him, and to always consider the consequences of their actions.  Will God make them change?  No, the change must occur when the individuals want it.  That is why I said, pray that God will create a situation for people to see the need to change the way they think.

Why do I care about what people are thinking? I care because there are people out there in the world that I love.  I would hate to hear about a tragedy occurring to them simply because someone did not know how to think. I care because I am instructed to love and in that instruction, I must pray for everyone to align their thinking with God’s.  I care because I’m tired of hearing about murders, rapes, robbery, adulterous affairs, sexual perversion, and all things ungodly.  I care about humanity.  I pray that everyone who knows God, cares as much as I do.  We are all in this world together.  Life won’t change until we change how we think–especially as it pertains to others and our love for them.

Father, in the name of Jesus, help us to care enough to want to see people change–their way of thinking, their lifestyles, and their attitudes towards others.  Speak to our hearts and point us in the right direction for change.  Create in us–thoughts of love, purity, and all those things worthy of praise, not destruction.  Help us O God to guard our thoughts from the influence of the enemy who wants to destroy mankind.  Help us to love another and want Your best in the lives of all who trust You.  In Jesus’ name we pray and thank You, Amen!


Brett (Excerpt from “Trapped” Chapter One)

After I got old enough to sit on my own, and then walk and feed myself—people for the most part left me alone.  It was almost as if I wasn’t even there—almost.  I was noticed if I got in someone’s way and shoved to the side.  I was noticed when I cried and sometimes my cries were quickly suppressed by the closest person to me.  I realized early in my life that no one was interested in hearing my voice—for any reason.  This was made abundantly clear when I started talking—the response I heard most was—“shut up!”   My mother tried, I guess to the best of her ability, but she was outnumbered and was not always around to see what was being done to me.  Left at the table unable to get down on my own, locked into the bathroom, unable to leave when I finished doing what I was supposed to do, and left out of feeling loved and wanted—because no one wanted me, not even my mother, I began to think.

As time moved forward and I began to sprout—up and outward—my brothers began to pay more attention to me than they should have.  They began touching me and making me squirm with the comments they made.  I told my sister and she just shrugged it off saying, “That’s the way they are.  They’ll stop sooner or later.”  My sister was three years older than I was so I thought she knew what she was talking about.  It turned out she didn’t.  The boys were all older than us—the oldest one was seven years older than me, the next one was five years older than me and then there was my sister. By the time I was ten—I had been molested by both of my brothers and no one believed me when I tried to tell it.  My sister just rolled her eyes, my mother didn’t have time to hear it, and my daddy—he looked at me real funny-like. Things got so bad; I simply stopped trying to talk and learned how to fight.  I left so many scratches and bite marks on them, they finally left me alone, but there I was—left to think that this is what life on the outside was all about.

Right after I turned twelve another trap was set for me.  My daddy finally noticed me—at least he noticed my budding bosom and started teasing me. At least I thought it was teasing me until he started touching me—telling me how pretty I was and how I was going to have to fight off the boys.  When he said that, I remembered thinking, “I’ve already had to fight off my brothers, how hard could it be?”  I was going to learn.

While Mama was at work one night—she worked two jobs; one during the day and one at night—my daddy decided to play a game with me.  It wasn’t a game that I liked since it involved him touching me and grinning at me.  I remember his eyes clouding over as if someone had turned on a fog machine and the fog lingered in his eyes and his fingers groping me in places where they should never have explored.  He always told me our game was a secret and no one else could know, but I didn’t trust him and I certainly didn’t like his game.  I tried telling my sister, but she just told me shut up and deal with it.  He had played the same game with her.  “And there’s no point in telling Mama,” she warned.  “I tried and she didn’t believe me.”  I found that hard to believe so I tried telling Mama.

“Shush, girl.” She said.  “You know yo daddy didn’t do nothin’.  He was just playin’ around with you.  He’s like that.”  She sighed and went to her room and went to sleep.

For two years, I endured “daddy’s game” until one night he forced himself upon me. I was a big girl, but I couldn’t keep him from entering me and when I screamed—he quickly covered my mouth so tight that I passed out.  I remember drifting off into another world where people wanted me and kept me safe.  When I woke up, the sheets on my bed were bloody and tangled and I screamed, and screamed until my mother came into the room.  All I could do was point and scream.  When she saw the blood, she visibly paled and walked out the room.  I couldn’t believe she just walked out—never attempting to comfort me or to reassure me things would be all right.  Her reaction unnerved me, but I finally got up and went to the bathroom to clean myself—horrified at the thought of my daddy had done to me.  Before I could get out of the bathroom, I heard the sound of pistol shot.  Terrified, at first I could not move, then when I heard my sister scream, I catapulted out the door.  I could not see anyone, but I could hear crying and as I walked down the hallway, I saw my daddy lying in the floor and my mama standing over him with a 45 revolver in her hand.  I didn’t even know we had a gun in the house.  I think she heard my stifled gasp and she turned around.

“I’m sorry.  I should have listened to you a long time ago.  He’ll never touch you again,” she said woodenly, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry, I wish I could change things, but I know that I can’t, but I am truly sorry.” She stood there still holding the gun.  By the time we heard the sirens in the distance, she had already made up her mind.  She turned the gun on herself and pulled the trigger.


This excerpt from my latest book, Trapped, will be released by Mid-February through, Barnes and Noble, and  The book reveals the lives of nine women who feel trapped by circumstances, until they discover a way to overcome.  If you’d like to read more of this fantastic fiction, please stay tuned and don’t be afraid to offer some feedback.  Blessings to you!