✅ What’s New in my Neck of the Woods?
✅ Another Sneak Peek at A Whim and a Prayer!
✅ Christian Fiction Reading Challenge!
✅ 99¢ Sale!
Read my prior blog including 1st excerpt from Winnie’s story HERE!
Merry Christmas
from the Lessmans!
🌲 So … What’s New in My Neck of the Woods?
Well … you might say we have a new “neck of the woods” because after 11 years at Lake of the Ozarks and a lifetime in Missouri, Keith and I are pulling up stakes and moving to Talladaga, Alabama!
Eleven years ago, my daughter was not happy when we told her we were moving to the Lake of the Ozarks (what can we say — we LOVE lakes!) because she wanted us to move south where she is in Birmingham. We quickly promised that our next move would be B-Ham, so when I turned 75 this year (yeah, we don’t want to talk about that), the time was right, especially since I’d been praying with my prayer partners for over a year that God would show us when and where to move.
And OH MY GOODNESS, did He — BIG TIME! You see, two months ago I was a bit discouraged that God still hadn’t shown Keith and me when and where to move. So, with a wee bit of an attitude (come on, God, throw me a bone!), I prayed with my prayer partner ONE MORE TIME that God would give us a clue.
I have to admit, when my daughter called the very next day to say my son-in-law had found a lake house 40 minutes from them that was an absolute steal and an absolute dream-come-true, I was stunned. She sent me the link and I literally started sobbing because it was everything I’d ever wanted in a house, and immediately one of my favorite Scriptures came to mind: Ephesians 3:10 — “God does abundantly, exceedingly more than we think, hope, or pray,” and I can certainly attest to that!
Here are some pics from our recent trip to see our new home — my favorites being the “Welcome Home, Juju and Papa” sign in the header pic above, the peaceful channel view we are privileged to enjoy, and the Southern-style veranda where I will be doing most of my writing.
My gratitude knows no bounds for a God who always answers our prayers, even if it’s not on our preferred time schedule!
🌲 2nd Sneak Peek at A Whim and a Prayer!
A Whim and a Prayer
She’s a former orphan
desperate to protect her heart.
He’s a best friend desperate
to protect her.
Till prayer protects them both
from a whim too lethal to see …
and the loss of a love
that was always meant to be.
Speaking of my writing … I know some of you are disappointed I didn’t release Winnie’s story this year — A Whim and a Prayer — and believe me, I was right there with you, pretty down in the dumps that God hadn’t given me a plot for her story after I’d been praying about it for over a year.
But in hindsight (which God is soooo good at!) and after a year of a foot surgery and two eye surgeries for me, two basal cell surgeries and a hernia surgery for Keith, 12 sets of out-of-town company this summer and fall, 10 trips of our own out of town, buying presents/wrapping/social get-togethers PLUS getting the house ready to sell and packing for both Florida and the lake house in Talladaga BY DECEMBER 16 — I guess He knew I wouldn’t have the time to write a book.
HOWEVER … I am happy to say that He’s now given me a plot and I’m rarin’ to go come January 1, so prayers still appreciated that I can give this wildly impulsive and seriously starstruck little girl her very own story for a book release next August.
And to motivate you for Winnie’s story (and me!), I am including a second sneak peek at the end of this blog. Note: The first sneak peek was in my August 7, 2025 Journal Jot blog, so if you haven’t seen it yet, you might want to check that out too. I hope you enjoy them both.
🌲 The Christian Fiction Reading Challenge!
You are cordially invited to join me and eleven other bestselling and award-winning authors for a year of great reading and great discussions via Zoom.
Each month, we’ll dive into a novel by many of your favorite Christian authors, and there will be plenty of variety! Romance. Heart-pounding suspense. A visit to 1970’s London. Even a princess in search of true love. Some books have strong Christian content. Some are clean reads but written from a Christian worldview. No matter which of those describes the book of the month, we hope you’ll love it.
To join, just go to the website at Christian Fiction Reading Challenge HERE. Read the information about when and where and how it all works, then drop your name and email address into the signup box. You’ll receive the important information each month via email (the book everyone is reading, the day and time of the Zoom chat). And if you can’t make the Zoom, don’t worry. The video will be uploaded so you can watch later.
We can’t wait to see you!
🌲 A 99¢ Sale on “A True Christmas Classic”!
At this time of year, I can’t help but think of my very first Christmas novel, A Light in the Window. Not only is it my first indie novel ever, but it’s also the award-winning prequel to my historical Irish family saga published by Revell — The Daughters of Boston and Winds of Change series.
And to make it even more special to me, my daughter is on the cover of the e-book, paperback, and audiobook, as well as in the video that my artist hubby did for it, so I hope you check it out at the following links:
99¢ Deal on A Light in the Window e-book
A Light in the Window paperback
A Light in the Window audiobook
Also, in case you like to read books in order, here is the order of all the books that follow A Light in the Window for this close-knit Irish family:
The Daughters of Boston Series (1916-1922)
Book 1: A Passion Most Pure
Book 2: A Passion Redeemed
Book 3: A Passion Denied
The Winds of Change Series (1929-1932)
Book 1: A Hope Undaunted
Book 2: A Heart Revealed
Book 3: A Love Surrendered
Christmas Novellas for Each of the Siblings
Book 1: A Whisper of Hope (1933)
Book 2: The Best Gift of All (1934)
Book 3: A Dream Fulfilled (1935)
Book 4: A Gift Like No Other (1936)
Book 5: The Promise of Hope (1936)
The Cousins O’Connor WW2 Series (1943-1947)
Book 1: A Wing and a Prayer
Book 2: A Hope and a Prayer
Book 3: A Dare and a Prayer
Book 4: A Whim and a Prayer
(coming Aug. 2026)
🌲 And now … An Excerpt from A Whim and a Prayer!
Okay, I promised you a second sneak peek at A Whim and a Prayer, so here it is to give you more of an idea of what the story is about. I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter Five
CLOMP! CLATTER! CLOP!
Winnie couldn’t help but grin as she thundered down the wooden staircase in her saddle shoes, well aware her mother would be cringing, wondering where she went wrong with Winnie when Hope and Julia were so refined. “I’m off!” she shouted as she barreled into the living room after dinner, where her mother knitted, her father read the paper, and her little sister Julia sprawled on the Persian run doing crossword puzzles.
“Where to, Pooh?” her father asked, looking up from his paper with his reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose.
Although Winnie thought her parents were two of the handsomest people for their ages—her father sixty-three and her mother, forty-seven—tonight her father appeared overly tired, which always worried her, given his age. But then as editor-in-chief of The Boston Herald, he had a lot on his mind, she supposed. She leaned to press a gentle kiss to his head, lips squirming with a smile as she glanced at her mother. Not the least of which was his wife.
“Abby, Beck, and I have a planning meeting at The Children’s Aid Society tonight, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right,” her father said with a heavy sigh. His tired smile shifted to the right. “I forgot.”
“And it’s no wonder, darling, working late every night like you do,” her mother said as she laid her knitting aside, no doubt to do battle with Winnie. She shifted her focus to her eldest daughter, her tone suddenly strained. “How late will you be tonight, sweetheart?”
Winnie silently fumed as she bent to kiss her mother’s cheek. “I don’t know, Mother, that depends on Mrs. Cullen, but not too late, I shouldn’t think. Although Abs, Beck and I might stop at Robinson’s for a malted after.”
“Oh, Winnie, do you think that’s wise? You do have school tomorrow.”
Winnie groaned. “Seriously, Mother? I’m almost eighteen years old—”
“Not for four more weeks,” her mother corrected with a sudden edge to her tone.
“And I’m in college, for heaven’s sake—”
“And it’s precisely for heaven’s sake that I keep such a close eye on you, young lady.”
“Charity, let it go,” her father said in a quiet tone of authority that trumped her mother’s. “Winnie’s right. She’s a young woman in college, sweetheart, so she deserves an element of freedom.”
Her mother issued a grunt, almost making Winnie smile.
Almost.
“Yes, well it’s that ‘element of freedom’ that I’m concerned about,” her mother muttered.
Bypassing his wife’s comment, her father offered a tired smile. “Have fun, sweetheart, but no later than midnight, all right? You driving?”
“Midnight!” Her mother sat straight up with eyes wide, palms gripped to her chair.
“No, Daddy, Beck is, and you know what a good driver he is.”
Her father grimaced. “Yes, but it’s not his driving I’m worried about, Pooh, it’s that old jalopy of his.”
AHOOGA! AHOOGA!
Said jalopy blared out front, and Winnie expelled a grateful sigh. “Whoops, there he is now, so I better scoot. G’night Daddy, Mother, Jewels.”
“Not too late, all right? And take a sweater—” her mother called as Winnie hurried out the front door, grateful for her father’s intervention. At least one of her parents realized she was growing up and could be trusted with her own life. She unleashed a heavy sigh as she bounded down the brick walkway lined with boxwoods interspersed with her mother’s newly planted mums.
Sometimes she felt like a prisoner in her own home, the way her mother tracked her every move, just like she’d done with Henry, but even more so, it seemed. True, Hope and Julia were the perfect daughters, but for crying out loud, Winnie wasn’t that bad, was she?
Relief expanded her ribcage when she spied Beck butted against the passenger side of his car with arms folded. Slowing her pace to a casual stroll, she delivered a cheerful smile, which he returned as he opened her car door. “You look flustered,” he said, obviously ignoring the free-and-easy demeanor she’d worked so hard to display, hating that her mother could always ruin her mood with a mere look or sentence.
She huffed out a cleansing sigh and slid into Beckett’s 1936 Chevrolet 6 with its tan herringbone seat covers—a hand-me-down gift from his adopted father that Becket meticulously maintained. Waiting for him to round the car and get in, she turned as he slammed the door and started the ignition. “How do you do that, anyway?” she demanded, both relieved and little miffed that her best friend could decipher her every mood no matter how hard she tried to hide it.
For the love of Pete—or in Winnie’s case, love of Cary Grant—she was an actress to the core, the lead in every high school play from freshman year on and the top student in her drama class in college. Acting was both her life and her salvation, because it allowed her to hide her true feelings from everyone in the world.
Everyone except Beckett, that is.
“Do what?” he said with his usual benign smile, those blue eyes all but twinkling as they glanced her way.
“See into my soul like that! I swear, Beck, you’ve been doing that since I’ve been five years old, and to be honest, sometimes the actress in me resents it.”
He grinned as he put the car in gear and eased away from the curb, his voice gentle and low. “True, but the scared little orphan in you depends on it, Winifred Doe, having a best friend you can spill your heart to.”
“Unfortunately true,” she whispered, chest rising and falling in a sigh of agreement as she stared aimlessly out her side window.
Becket glanced her way. “So … your mom again?”
“Who else?” she muttered, wondering for the millionth time how the woman who had saved her life had become the bane of her existence because God knows her father always understood her and Hope and Julia were near perfect.
“Okay, what did she do this time?”
“Oh, the same thing she does every time—she hovers, she controls—or tries to,” she underscored with a grunt—”every single thing in my life.” Her head bounced back and forth as she proceeded to play-act her mother—“‘Winnie, take a jacket because it’ll get cool later. Winnie, 4-inch heels are not necessary, young lady, because you’re petite and men like petite—”
“They do,” Beckett agreed with a nod.
Ignoring his comment, she continued on. “Winnie, you may not straighten your hair, darling. Your curls are in style and quite becoming—”
“They are,” Beckett confirmed with a smile.
“And, no, young lady, you may not dye your hair dark brown like Hedy Lamar because I happen to think your flaxen curls are beautiful.”
“Ditto.”
She seared him with a thin look. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”
“Yours, kiddo,” he said with a slap of the blinker to turn onto Abby’s street, “especially when your mother is right, which is more often than you think. Because the truth is the temps are going to drop tonight, your five-foot height is flat-out adorable, and I absolutely love your blonde curls.”
“A-dor-a-ble?” She dragged the word out like it was a profanity, then jutted her chin high. “Well, for your information, Beckett Campbell, “I don’t want to be adorable like a little kid”— palm to her chest, she struck a dramatic pose with a come-hither look that made him grin outright because she was so darn cute. She fluttered her lashes. “I want to be sexy like Hedy Lamar.”
——
Lord, have mercy! Beckett was grateful it was dark so Winnie couldn’t see the blood crawling up the back of his neck as he parked in front of Abby’s house. For crying out loud, the woman’s self-perception was so skewed and badly damaged that she had no earthly idea just how sexy she actually was—both to him and the horde of males always looking her way. And the fact that she didn’t know how pretty she was only made her all the more attractive to his way of thinking.
“Jean Harlow’s sexy,” he offered, “and she’s petite like you with curly hair your color too.” He hoped that would lift her spirits, but deep down he knew it wouldn’t. When it came to her own self confidence as a woman, Winnie was damaged goods, compliments of rejection as a cross-eyed orphan, firstly, insecurity of being the only non-blood-related member of her family, secondly, and inferiority stoked by a beautiful mother she felt she could never measure up to.
Winnie’s mouth went flat as she looked down at her slight body, which was as lithe and delicate as Jean Harlow’s was buxom. “She’s a bombshell. I’m not.”
“Which is good, Pooh, because as obsessed as you are with Hollywood romance and excitement, being a bombshell might not be the best thing. Especially for someone as adventurous and uh … spontaneous … as you.” He punctuated the thought with a blow of the horn.
AHOOGA! AHOOGA!
“What’s wrong with spontaneous?” she asked with a scrunch of her freckled nose, ready to take him on as always.
He shrugged and got out of the car, bending in with a smile. “Nothing, Pooh. I just don’t think Hollywood is the safest place for whims and spontaneity, that’s all.” He shut his door before she could counter, unwilling to continue the conversation.
“Hey, Abs,” he said as Winnie’s cousin scurried to the car, “front seat or back?”
“Front. That way I won’t feel like a third wheel with you two.” She bumped his shoulder with her own as he opened Winnie’s door. “Scoot over, Cuz. Unless you prefer I sit by Handsome?” She wiggled her brows, making Beck laugh and shake his head while he closed the door.
He slid into the driver’s seat, and as always, he was pointedly aware of Winnies’ body next to his, issuing a silent groan when she picked up the conversation where they’d left off. Beckett sighed as he started the car.
Like a dog with a bone …
“Abby, Beck says I’m spontaneous, but he makes it sound like a bad thing. What do you think?”
“Mmm … well, no question spontaneity can be a very good thing—”
Winnie elbowed Beck. “See?”
“For someone stuck in a rut,” Abby continued, “helping to break them out of the same ‘ol, same ‘ol, you know? But as a way of life?” She grimaced as she peered at Winnie out of the corner of her eye. “For someone like you, Win, who tends to fly by the seat of her pants on a whim and a prayer and no planning?” She shrugged, an apology evident in the chew of her lip. “It could be a bad thing.”
Beck elbowed her back. “See?”
Winnie feigned frustration with a stiff fold of arms, mouth twitching with a near smile. “Oh, I swear you two are in cahoots! Okay, I’ll give you that whims can be misleading and possibly dangerous, but that’s an entirely different animal from spontaneity, which demonstrates enthusiasm, productivity, and a can-do attitude. And for your information, I do not engage in emotional impulse or whims.”
Beck cleared his throat. “Uh, jumping the Hassert Ravine in sixth grade, breaking your leg when you missed?”
Winnie’s head swiveled Beck’s way, brows in a pinch. “Come on, Beck, what could I do? Lance Theissen dared me!”
“Stomping on Richard Meyer’s foot and breaking his toe in seventh grade?” Abby reminded.
“He tried to trip me, Abs—we both know that!” A touch of temper tainted Winnie’s voice.
Beckett flipped his blinker on to make a turn. “It was an accident, Pooh, pure and simple, because everybody knows Richard wouldn’t hurt a fly.” He glanced her way with a teasing smile. “Besides, he had a crush on you.”
Abby chuckled. “That’s probably why she did it. We both know our girl doesn’t like boys who fall for her. She likes to fall for them.”
Yeah, tell me about it. Beck’s smile dimmed as he slowed for a stop sign.
“And let’s not forget the bubbles in the school fountain debacle,” Abby said with a firm hike of her brow.
“Oh, come on, Abs,” Winnie said with a puff of frustration, “it was a senior prank, for heaven’s sake!”
“Yeah, but you were the only senior who put red food dye in and then had the audacity—”
“Uh, uh, uh …” Winnie held up a finger. “Spontaneity, if you please.”
“—to pose in front for a picture with pink hair, no less!”
Winnie bit her lip. “How was I to know Harold Wilson was going to send the picture to the school newspaper?” She sighed. “And who knew that food coloring would be so hard to wash out? Mom grounded me for a solid month after that.”
“Which just proves our point, Win.” Abby hooked an arm around her cousin’s shoulder to give her a quick squeeze. “Sometimes you need to think things all the way through before you jump the gun on a whim.”
“And pray before you jump,” Beck added as he shifted the car into park in front of The Children’s Aid Society.
Winnie expelled a heavy sigh of surrender, which Beck hoped was an indication that she was finally willing to listen to her two best friends. “Okay, I know you guys are right—”
Beck bumped her shoulder with his own. “Which is probably why your mother watches you like a hawk, Win, because she worries about you.”
“Amen to that,” Abby said. “Which is why she told my mom she’s grateful we’re best friends.” A twinkle lit in her eye as she waggled her brows. “She thinks I’ll be a good influence on you.”
“Ha! I suspect it’s more that she wants an older cousin to babysit me.”
“Hey—I’m only a year older than you, Dennehy, remember?”
“Not to my mom.” Winnie nudged Abby’s shoulder to prod her out of the car. “She thinks you’re ‘ma-ture,’” she said with a scrunch of her nose.
“That’s because I am.” Abby opened the door and slid out with a wink.
“Yeah?” Winnie taunted her cousin with a knowing grin. “Not if I tell her and your mom that you played the cigarette game at Myra’s pajama party.”
Abby froze. “You wouldn’t.”
“Sure she would,” Beck said, tone nonchalant as he opened his door and rounded the car. “What’s the cigarette game, anyway?”
Winnie’s smile was smug. “You pass a lit cigarette around a circle, and everybody takes a draw until the ashes fall.” Tugging on her lip in a tease, she wiggled her brows. “And whoever’s holding the cigarette when ashes fall has to answer questions from the group honestly or perform a dare, like Truth or Dare with cigarettes.”
“But you did it too,” Abby defended.
“Ahah!” Winnie hooked an arm to Abby’s waist, giving her a pinch. “But my mom expects it of me, silly, not you. After all, you are the saintly offspring of her saintly sister.”
“Which is actually a good thing, Abs,” Beck said, butting the girls apart to sling an arm over their shoulders while he steered them toward the door. “Because now we both can pray for this one here, that she finally trades in her outrageous whims—”
Winnie screech to a stop with a fake glare at Beck. “Spontaneity, if you please.”
He tweaked her neck with a chuckle. “I stand corrected. Pray she trades in her outrageous spontaneity for our mature responsibility.”
“Are you kidding?” Winnie broke free to run ahead, holding the door open with a sassy sway of her hips. “That’s what I have you two for.”
