SUBSCRIBERS, PLEASE NOTE: By submitting your e-mail address freely, this is your consent for me to send you emails that contain news and promotional information about my books. Disclosure of your e-mail is voluntary and is not stored, except for the purpose for which you provide it.

Enter your email address
to subscribe to Julie's Blog

 

SEARCH THIS WEBSITE

11:57AM

Saturday, September 21, 2019 

“Guilt is like a cancer that eats away at our soul,

robbing us of joy, hope, and all too often, the very forgiveness that will set us free."

--A Gift Like No Other by Julie Lessman

❤️ Hello, Everyone!

Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Julie Lessman, the author you haven't heard from in almost three months. But I promise you, I have a good reason. 😍

As you know, I spent most of this year writing Gabe O'Connor's story, A Wing and a Prayer, WHICH I had hoped to release as an indie by now, but unfortunately (or fortunately), I have a couple of publishers who are interested, so we have to wait on that one to see if it sells. A quick prayer for God's will on this book would be MOST appreciated!

So ... since I can't release Gabe's story yet, I've been busy trying to get a new O'Connor Christmas novella out so you have at least ONE book from me this year, and I'm happy to say that ... drum roll please ... Faith and Collin now have their very own Christmas story!

A Gift Like No Other is definitely a story like no other because it deals with sensitive marital issues that I felt required a higher level of romantic passion, so if that is not your thing, please feel free to pass this novella up. In fact, I am so sensitive to the fact that this level of romantic passion is not for everyone, that I have put the following warning on the Amazon page for this novella:

WARNING: Due to a subject matter that deals with marital problems, please be advised that this sweet inspirational novella contains a higher level of romantic passion.

Like most of my books, A Gift Like No Other also includes an important spiritual lesson I have learned in my own life—and that is that prayer should always be a first resort, not a last, and that it can tackle and resolve any problem we face, large or small.

Some people will think I'm crazy, but I pray about everything—from small things like which dress to buy, to crucial things like the healing of my family and friends. I've had people say, "God has too many serious prayer requests to handle without me bugging him about what dress to buy," and I will admit, I just shake my head. Because they are missing out on a Father/daughter/son relationship like no other.

I defy those of you who are parents or aunts/uncles to say you wouldn't be thrilled to the gills to have your  daughter or niece ask you what dress you thought she should buy. In fact, I would have killed for my strong-willed daughter to have asked me what dress to wear when she was small, so don't tell me God doesn't care. He cares about every hair on my head (which, admittedly aren't too many at this point, so His job is definitely easier with me!).

The bottom line is that as our Father, God LOVES each and every one of us like a son or daughter! So much so that He died for us! And that same God jumps at every opportunity to help and bless us, whether it's what dress to buy or what job to take or what dream you have floating around in your heart.

So, yes, I'm not ashamed to say I pray about everything, and ALL with the confidence that God wants me to pray, wants me to ask Him to intervene, and wants to bless me through it, whether He says yes or no to those prayers. Because the truth is, He not only wants to be an active part of each of our lives, but He wants to bless those lives abundantly, exceedingly more than we think, hope, and pray.

To hopefully whet your appetite about this very "prayerful" novella that releases OCTOBER 20, 2019, I am including both the jacket blurb below and the first chapter of A Gift Like No Other at the end of this blog, so I hope you enjoy them. And, I'm happy to say, this Christmas novella is now available for PREORDER HERE!

 Her dream is writing.

His is the perfect wife and mother.

Until God fulfills them both with a dream like no other.

Twelve years ago, Faith O’Connor happily gave up her dream as a copywriter to become a wife and mother, clinging to her husband’s promise she could return some day. But when the opportunity arises to write for the Boston Herald again two days a week, her dream hits a snag … along with her marriage.

To Collin McGuire, family is everything because he never really had one of his own. Raised by a father who died early and a mother who didn’t care, Collin is determined to give his children the very best with a full-time mother. But when he denies Faith her dream, he soon discovers he’s denied his own as well … until Christmas day brings a healing through a gift like no other.

So, two books down this year, and now I'm starting my third -- Love's Silver Bullet -- which I hope to release late spring 2020, so prayers appreciated for that one too.

And now, before I close, I thought it would be fun to show you just a few pics of family visits we had this year. WOW, family is everything, so I thank God for every precious moment with them.

 

🖼 End-of-Summer Sale

Don't miss out on my end-of-summer sale where you can get each of the Isle of Hope books for only 99 cents!


🖼 Summer Pics

Keith and I at Bentley's Restaurant & Pub

Keith and Amy and precious Wyatt!

Baby Wyatt in a very special bib!

Genevieve at age 2-1/2 -- our miracle heart baby!

Micah driving the boat with Papa and Aurora.

Juju and Geebie (our nickname for Genevieve) are tuckered out from all the fun!

Amy and Wyatt, our preemie baby who is truly one of the sweetest babies alive!

And, now, here's Chapter One of A Gift Like No Other, so I hope you enjoy it. And don't forget to give me your feedback on the heat level HERE. THANK YOU!

Hugs and Happy Weekend!

Julie

A GIFT LIKE NO OTHER

 You will pray to Him,and He will hear you,

And you will fulfill your vows.

--Job 22:27

 

CHAPTER ONE

Boston, Massachusetts

September 1936

Lord have mercy … Faith O’Connor swallowed a gulp, glancing up as her husband strolled into their bedroom with that look in his eye, a towel wrapped low on his hips rather than his customary pajama bottoms. Which could only mean one thing. Her stomach fluttered along with her heart.

He’d obviously missed her as much as she’d missed him during his week-long trade show in New York.

Teeth tugging at her lower lip, Faith sat in their bed with a book in her lap, skin tingling as always when Collin McGuire entered a room. She took in the sculpted curve of his muscled arms and the hard, lean chest that tapered into a towel tied so low, his abdomen looked like it’d been chiseled in stone.

Tall, dark, and dangerous, he’d been the Southie rogue who’d stolen every girl’s heart, and to this very day, Faith still marveled that somehow, someway, she’d been the one to steal his. Her mouth tipped up. Somehow? Someway? The seeds of a grin sneaked through. More like Someone.

I honor those who honor Me.

Oh, yes, Lord, you surely do, Faith thought for the thousandth time, the whisper of one of her favorite Scriptures--1 Samuel 2:30--a timely reminder that commitment to God’s precepts was the key to bounteous blessing. Heart racing, she sucked in a quiet breath and smiled, enjoying the warmth her husband stirred within. Because even after seventeen years of marriage, the man could still heat her blood with just a look. Like the one he was giving her right now—eyes smoky as they pinned her to the bed with dangerous intent, absolute confirmation there’d be no more reading tonight. 

“Tired?” he asked, the clean smell of soap and lime aftershave drifting in the room like an opiate as he approached with his usual confident swagger. His deadly gray eyes never strayed from hers while he plucked the book from her hand and tossed it on the nightstand with abandon. The slow smile she loved eased across his full lips as he turned out the light and sprawled horizontally on the moonlit bed, tugging her out from beneath the covers in one fluid movement to land her on top.

Hungry palms skimmed the length of her satin gown. “Sweet mother of Job,” he rasped in a gravelly voice while his lips wandered her throat, “I love when you wear satin to bed, Faith, and God help me—I love it even more when I can take it off.” He gripped her close while he kissed her hard, his breathing suddenly as ragged as hers. “Tell me, Little Bit,” he whispered in a near groan, “do you have any idea just how much I’ve missed you?” His words blew warm in her ear, punctuated with a teasing flick of his tongue that immediately purled heat through her body.

Oh, yes, my love, I definitely do .... “As much as I missed you, I hope,” she said with a quivering sigh, offering a weak tip of her head to give full access as he suckled the lobe of her ear.

“More.” Burying his lips in her neck, he emitted a low growl while he rolled her over with all the grace of an athlete, straddling with a decadent gleam in his eye. “So much, in fact, I intend to send Brady on all future trade shows out of town because I miss you too blasted much.”

Easing down, he threaded his fingers into her hair and showed her just how much with a slow, languid kiss that both muddied her mind and whirled heat in her belly. “As God is my witness, Faith, you own me heart and soul because no other woman alive could even come close. Which means,” he whispered with a perilous smile, fingers hot as they carefully slid the strap of her gown off of her shoulder, “we have a lot of catching up to do, Mrs. O’Connor.” And skimming her collarbone with his mouth, he did just that, heading south with slow, delicious kisses.

“I love you, Collin,” she whispered a long while later, limp and lazy in his arms after they’d made love. Her body still hummed from his touch while her mind began to hum for an entirely different reason.

“I love you, too, Faith.” He pressed a kiss to her head while he idly grazed the satin of her gown, his voice gruff with emotion. “More than I could ever say or do.”

She paused, praying this might be the perfect moment to share what she hoped would be wonderful news. “Maybe not,” she said with a teasing lilt of her voice, fingers feathering across his washboard stomach to tease with a gentle dip in his navel.

He softly pinched her waist. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Faith sat up with a nervous grate of her lip, butterflies doing cartwheels in her stomach that nearly rivaled the dizzy whirl of Collin’s kisses. “I have good news to share, I hope,” she said softly, bending to gently sway her mouth against his.

He stiffened for barely an instant before he gripped her arms with a wide span of eyes, his breathing suddenly shallow. “You’re pregnant?” His voice was hushed with hope.

Faith blinked, painfully aware she’d just made a tactical error. Of course Collin would assume her good news was a baby because the man was desperate for another boy. With a nervous chew of her lip, she tenderly caressed the scruff of his jaw. “No, not pregnant, my love,” she said, diverting her mistake with a gently probing kiss she hoped would take his mind in another direction. “Although after this homecoming tonight, that’s a distinct possibility.”

“Mmm … one can only hope.” He returned her kiss with a heated one of his own before rolling onto his side to hook her body flush. He pressed a kiss to her nose. “So, what’s your good news, Faith?” His mouth quirked into an affectionate smile. “Bren has finally learned to lift up the toilet seat? Or Abby has finally consented to you curling her hair?”

Faith grinned, thinking both of those things would be very good news, indeed, since Abby was a tomboy and Bren a poor aim. “Noooo, nothing to do with the children. This has to do with me.”

He offered a lazy smile as he cradled her face in his hands. “You’ve decided to wear satin to bed from this moment on?”

“Well, that certainly can be arranged,” she said with a soft chuckle as she idly meandered a lazy finger down the scant line of dark hair that trailed from his chest down past his stomach. “If you’re as happy about my news as I am.”

Cocking his elbow to prop his head on his hand, he smiled, eyes in a squint. “Now you’ve got me really curious, Little Bit, so out with it.

“Well …” Giddy with excitement, Faith skittered up to sit Indian-style, hardly able to believe that after twelve years of devoting herself solely to being a wife and a mother, her dream to return to her job as a copywriter at the Herald could soon be a reality. “Well … Charity mentioned that Mitch said Father was short on copywriters at the Herald—”

“Oh, no …” It was Collin’s turn to sit up, dark brows digging low as he stared at her in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re not thinking about going back to copywriting again.”

Faith blinked, somewhat taken aback by the scowl on his face. “Well, yes, of course I am, Collin, but I’m only talking two days a week while the girls are in school—”

“I don’t care if it’s only two hours a week, Faith. You have a responsibility to our children, so the answer is no.”

She caught her breath, the sound harsh in the stillness of the night as she worked to contain her temper. “It-wasn’t-a-question, Collin,” she emphasized in a tone far tighter than she intended. “It was an opportunity I thought we should discuss since, as you well know, writing has always been my dream.”

He grabbed his pillow and punched it several times before flopping down on his side, bunching it in a ball beneath his head as he closed his eyes. “Fine, we’ve discussed it. Case closed.”

Jaw gaping, Faith snapped her mouth shut and silently counted to ten while she tamped down her anger. “Collin,” she said quietly, determined to approach this civilly instead of going off half-cocked like her husband. “Can you at least hear me out so we can discuss it like two rational adults who actually care about each other?”

He peered up past shuttered lids, dark lashes so long and lips pursed so tight, he looked like her son refusing to eat his carrots. “I’m listening.”

She expelled a silent breath. “Sean is slammed at the store, so he asked Emma if she could help out during the busy Christmas season twice a week,” she said quickly, grateful for the sister-in-law who had once managed Mitch and Charity's department store, Dennehy’s, where her husband Sean was now the manager. “So, when I heard Father needed a part-time copywriter, I talked to Emma about each of us possibly trading off watching the kids two days a week instead of Mother or Lizzie doing it. I mean, you know how close Bren is with her Daniel, so naturally both of the boys would be over the moon about this arrangement.”

Unlike the sullen, little boy staring at me now.

She rushed on before Collin could interrupt. “It would only be two half days at the Herald from ten to two, well before the girls arrive home from school, and I’d be helping Father out as well, since he’s in dire need of copywriters.” She gently grazed his arm with her fingers, her voice fragile with hope as she continued. “With a depression on, Collin, the extra income would certainly help, too, taking some of the burden off of you. So really, if you think about it, it’s a win-win all the way around.”

He slid her a narrow look. “I have thought about it, Faith, and I don’t like it, not one little bit, so you may as well get it out of your mind right now. Bren is only four years old and still needs his mother. And in case you forgot, I am the breadwinner in this family and don’t need your help.”

She blinked, stunned at the harsh bite of his tone. “And I don’t need your permission!” she said, voice snapping along with her temper that the man who professed to love her more than he could “say or do” was squashing her dreams without a second thought.

Chest heaving, she battled the sting of tears at the back of her lids, softening her tone in another attempt to corral her frustration. “You promised, Collin,” she whispered in a hoarse voice. “I put my dreams on hold to give you children, and you promised that after I had Abby, I could work part-time when all three girls were in school. Well, now they are, and Bren is close behind. And Father needs me”—her chin rose in her defense—“and I need the chance to pursue my love of writing, so I’m asking you—please—try to understand.”

Gray eyes as cold as slate, Collin slowly rose from the pillow, lips clamped tight as he stared her down. A tic pulsed in his jaw, a rare sign of a temper she almost never saw. “All I understand, Faith,” he bit out in a tone brutal with bitterness, “is that this so-called ‘love’ of yours appears to exceed that for your husband and children.”

She froze, shards of ice prickling her skin at the viciousness of his attack. The tears she’d tried so hard to stall now swelled in her eyes, unleashing a deluge of hurt and betrayal that drowned out all reason. “How dare you!” she hissed, fists clenched tight to keep from striking out.

“And how dare you put your interests before that of my son!” he shouted back, obviously as enraged as she.

Her tears fell, and with them any restraint, prompting a knee-jerk reaction that unleashed a swift slap across his face, the sound echoing like a clap of thunder rife with warning.

His shock was at least equal to her own as they stared at each other through wide eyes, chests heaving and silence ticking away like the thundering heartbeats pounding in her chest. In the blink of his eye, fury calcified every line in that handsome face, distorting it into a man she didn’t know.

Snatching his pillow up, he stalked to the closet to jerk a blanket from the top shelf, not once looking back as he bolted for the door.

“Collin, I’m sorry,” she cried, but his only answer was a deafening slam that left her in a cold and empty bed where she’d just made love to her husband. A painful groan trailed from her lips. From ecstasy to agony in one violent sweep of her palm.

“Oh, God, forgive me,” she whispered, sinking onto her pillow with a painful sob, well aware Collin would be too angry to accept her apology tonight. Heartsick, her body heaved as she lay there weeping, praying this awful rift would be over come morning.

Boom! The door flew open with a crack to the wall, and Faith jolted up in bed, stomach cramping when her four-year-old son flew into the room with terror in his eyes. “M-Mommy, Mommy, I h-heard a loud b-bang,” he cried, voice quivering as much as his little body.

Faith swept him up in her arms, clutching him tightly as she hurried toward the door. “It was nothing, sweetheart, I promise, so let’s get you back to your bed.”

He clung as if he would never let go, small fingers digging into her back with a panic that rivaled the angst in her gut. “B-But it sounded like something breaking, and I’m afraid it might be a monster, so w-will you sleep w-with m-me for a while?”

“Absolutely, sweetheart.” She laid him down in his bed, then crawled in alongside, grateful to escape the terrible loneliness of her empty room down the hall. Pressing a soft kiss to his head, she tucked the covers around them both, snuggling as close to him as he was to her. “I promise there are no monsters, Bren,” she whispered as she swept a tender palm down the whole of his tiny back, “and definitely nothing breaking, my love.” He shivered, and she followed suit, while a single tear slowly slid from her eye.

Unless it’s my heart.

 

EmailEmail Article to Friend

Main | July 1, 2019 »