Journal Jots – Blog
Welcome to my Journal Jots blog! This is a broad mix of what’s on my mind, allowing me to feel a little bit closer to some of the most important people in my life—YOU! From news on sales, freebies, giveaways, new releases, and excerpts from works in progress … to my thoughts on my walk with God, daily devotionals, or photos of my family, this is where you’ll find the most current glimpse into my books and my life. I invite you to subscribe in the “subscribe” box on the right side of this page to automatically receive an email whenever I post a blog. Till then, God bless and HAPPY READING!
FRIDAY, MARCH 30, 2012
“I have become all things to all people
so that by all possible means I might save some.”
—St. Paul, 1 Corinthians 9:21-22
What can I say—when God handed out “passion,” I got a boatload. Not just passion for God, my family and romance, although those things obviously top the charts for me, but passion in everything I do. As a CDQ (caffeinated drama queen), I talk fast, walk fast, eat fast and brush my teeth fast, scouring with a vengeance. Good heavens, is it any wonder I have receding gums???
I cry just about every time I worship God at church or with worship music on my treadmill, over commercials or when I simply think about God’s goodness to me. The truth is I am a weepy, emotional, passionate woman who is also passionate about the truth. Not a good combination if you’re looking to impress the world or want to be considered “the norm,” which I will be the first to admit, I’m not. Not in my personality nor in my writing. I feel deeply, I believe deeply and I live deeply.
Which is why what you read from me is what you get. Whether writing novels or blogs or letters or e-mails, I literally open a vein and bleed onto the keyboard because it’s who I am, who God made me to be. Some people like it, some don’t. But I have to be honest—the ones who don’t have a way of making you feel less, like you are not all God expects you to be, like you are a disobedient stepchild who needs to be disciplined. And I gotta tell you—if God had treated me like some of these people do, I wouldn’t be writing this to you today, nor would you be reading my books because there flat-out wouldn’t be any.
What is it with some people, that they cannot see the forest for the trees? Cannot see that Jesus commands us to love others, not judge them? Goodness, Jesus would turn their world upside down today with His penchant for having dinner with sinners or defending prostitutes! And don’t even get me started on what they would think of St. Paul, who chose “to be all things to all people for the sake of Christ.”
For me, being a passionate CDQ is a good thing most of the time, but the flip side for a person who feels this much is that when someone cuts you with words, it hurts like the devil. Mmm … appropriate phraseology, I’d say, because that’s his M.O.—condemning rather than convicting, hurting rather than healing. And unfortunately, all too often it’s other Christians he uses to do it.
Like the letter I just got from a disgruntled reader yesterday who called my books “indecent,” saying “there is no place in Christian fiction for this depth of detail,” and that “there is enough of this stuff in the world” without it being in the Christian market as well. And you know what? She’s right. There IS “enough of this stuff in the world,” which is all the more reason the Christian community needs to rise up and fight fire with fire and be “all things to all people for the sake of Christ.” This disgruntled reader would be shocked to learn that most of my friends, Christian and non, read secular romance, which, of course, generally promotes the world’s amoral lifestyle rather than God’s. What’s wrong with this picture? I mean if the world can take something that God created and use it to sell its amoral agenda, then why can’t Christians utilize this God-given passion to promote Him and His precepts?
Look at the world today—it’s obsessed with illicit passion. Hollywood promotes adultery and unmarried couples sleeping together as sexy, and I can count on one hand how many young, unmarried women I know who are still virgins today, Christian or no. Why? Because passion is important! Not just to romance readers, but to everyone on the planet. We were created that way by a passionate God who analogizes His own depth of love for each of us in a very passionate love letter called “Song of Solomon.” And what happens? The world uses this beautiful, God-given gift to shove sin down peoples’ throats, and I, for one, am really sick of it. I want to use passion the way it was intended—to teach people God’s precepts and therein, His love. It’s the cry of my heart, and I hope and pray that for my readers, my stories of romantic passion translate into passion for God.
But those who disagree with me do give me pause to think … and to pray … that I stay the course with God’s plan and not my own. I thank them for their passion for purity, which I assure them, is as fervent as mine and which inspires me to be even more vigilant and careful in future stories I write. And, yes, I do understand the concern and “passion” of those who feel Christian romance must remain chaste and pure. But on the other side of the spectrum, there are Christians like me, who worry that “chaste and pure” will not reach the majority of Nora Roberts or Hannah Montana or the MTV crowd anymore than old-time Gospel music will reach those who listen to Christian rock such as Pillar or Underoath. The Body of Christ is just that—a body of human beings at varying levels of faith. It’s not one size fits all in reaching people for Christ, but it’s the cry of St. Paul who said “I have become all things to all men, that I might by all means save some.” Salt … in an unsavory world.
And so, I will do what I always do when I receive letters or reviews like this—I will pray for God’s abundant blessings on this person and then for anointing to respond properly and lovingly. Because as much as I hate stubbing my own toe, the last thing I want to do is stub or inflict pain on any part of my body—“the Body of Christ.”
Thank you SO much for allowing me to vent today, and I cannot adequately express my heartfelt appreciation to those of you who support me with your friendship and love. YOU are an extension of God’s love in my life and I pray that I can be the same to you.
BE INSPIRED!! CHECK OUT PEPPER BASHAM’S GREAT SERIES, “SPRINGS OF INSPIRATION,” featuring excerpts from authors such as Jamie Carie, Mary Connealy, Melanie Dickerson, Ruth Logan Herne, Myra Johnson, Siri Mitchell, Missy Tippens and MOI (with one of my FAVORITE spiritual excerpts from my books)!! Head on over to the link below and scroll down to catch the whole series, then check out my excerpt on Friday, March 30! Hope to see you there. Here’s the link:
http://pepperbasham.wordpress.com/2012/03/30/springs-of-inspiration-with-julie-lessman/
LAST-MINUTE GIVEAWAY:
APRIL 3-9, 2012:
JOIN ME FOR A LAST-MINUTE GIVEAWAY AT JOURNEYS BY JOY. Leave a comment and be entered to win your choice of any of my books including A Love Surrendered when it releases. Here’s the link:
THE SALE IS STILL ON … Steven’s story, A Love Surrendered is ON SALE IN PRE-ORDER!!! For a very limited time, you can pre-order A Love Surrendered for only $7.72, which is almost half off, so if you plan to order it, NOW is the time to do it and if you do, PLEASE like the link, okay? Here are the links, but keep in mind that CBD.com’s sale price may not be loaded yet:
Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/isbn=0800734173/bakerbookhouseA
Christianbook.com:
http://www.christianbook.com/Christian/Books/product?isbn=9780800734176&event=AFF&p=1011504
Thanks for the shoulder to cry on and Happy Weekend!
Hugs,
Julie
FRIDAY, MARCH 23, 2012
Halfway through his sandwich,
he expelled a noisy breath. “Why are we arguing?”
She turned, chin elevated and brows raised.
“Because you’re dimwitted and scared?”
—A Love Surrendered by Julie Lessman
HAPPY FRIDAY and what a FUN week it’s been!! Lots of cool things have gone on in the last seven days, not the least of which was my trip to my publisher in Grand Rapids last week. What a GREAT group of people to work with and what hospitality!! Revell is simply, hands-down, a class act, and I am SO blessed to be a part of this amazing Baker Book group. From a lovely dinner with my editor Lonnie and publicist Claudia (LOVE these two!!!) and a Martha-Stewart-eat-your-heart-out luncheon at the beautiful home of one of my favorite Revell people and blog-tour administrator, Donna … to a great brainstorming meeting for the Heart of San Francisco series and a book signing at Baker Book House, the trip was a true highlight of my writing career.
My heartfelt thanks to the Revell team for making my visit so memorable including Chris at the Baker Book Store AND the incredible reader friends who attended my book signing—you were the icing on the cake! A special thanks to Amanda and her mom Chris and sister Sara for driving two hours one way to see me and spending the night in Grand Rapids to do so as well and then Joy, who drove an hour and a half one way—you guys and the others who took the time to come TOTALLY blessed the socks off me, so THANK YOU!!
The second thing that made my week fun was a Google Alert I got that brought a YouTube video entitled “A Passion Most Pure” to my attention. I didn’t know this, but apparently some young people got together and made a video based on my debut novel, and I gotta tell you, they did an incredible job!! It’s flat-out adorable, and I hope you get the chance to check it out. Here’s the link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1i2LWMYmYhU
The third thing that made my week fun was that I sent the final ms. for Love at any Cost to my editor yesterday, and she will read it in the next few days, so PLEASE say one for me, okay? Soooo good to not only finally finish it, but I actually like it too, so I hope you do as well.
Another cool thing this week is that not only has A Heart Revealed been at #4 on Amazon’s “Top Rated Religious Romance,” but has also been on sale on Amazon Kindle at $2.99 all week long as well until this Sunday, March 25, so if you haven’t read it yet, DO take advantage. Here’s the link on the Amazon Top Rated list, but be advised that Amazon alternates the list I’m on with another one, so it may change in a day or two.
FINALLY … the last exciting thing is that Steven’s story, A Love Surrendered is ON SALE IN PRE-ORDER!!! You heard me, for a very limited time, you can pre-order A Love Surrendered for only $7.72, which is almost half off, so if you plan to order it, NOW is the time to do it and if you do, PLEASE like the link, okay? Here are the links, but keep in mind that CBD.com’s sale price may not be loaded yet:
Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/isbn=0800734173/bakerbookhouseA
Barnes and Noble:
Christianbook.com:
http://www.christianbook.com/Christian/Books/product?isbn=9780800734176&event=AFF&p=1011504
And so, to celebrate the pre-order sale price, I’m going to leave you with a short clip from A Love Surrendered to whet your appetite. This scene is in a diner after Steven rescues Annie from a speakeasy during a raid and he confronts her for the first time with the fact that she has not told him she’s the younger sister of his old girlfriend Maggie, the woman he was going to marry (and the girl his father found him on the couch with in A Hope Undaunted).
Happy Reading and Happy Weekend!
Hugs,
Julie
His coffee spilled when he jerked up his mug, the liquid scalding his fingers like her deception scalded his temper. “You have nothing to say?”
A knot shifted in her throat and she looked up, almost a square to her shoulders as she steeled her jaw. “I was wrong, Steven, I should have told you. But I never expected—” She lowered her gaze to blow on her coffee, obviously in an effort to stall.
“Never expected what?” he asked sharply, glaring over the rim of his cup. She took a timid sip while a full range of emotions flickered across her beautiful face—from hesitation and worry, to vulnerability and shame. And something deeper that raced his pulse and tightened his gut all at the same time.
She drew in a deep breath before forging on, her gaze finally rising to meet his. “I never expected to …” Her voice trailed off until it was barely audible. “fall in love with you,” she said quietly, the truth hovering in the air like the steam from the coffee.
She may as well have tossed it in his face—it burned all the same. His jaw went as firm as his will. “You’re not in love with me, Annie.”
A frail sigh withered from her lips while a sheen of sadness welled in her eyes. “I wasn’t sure either,” she whispered, “until you kissed me that night when you took Glory and me home.”
He bent forward, palms clutching the table and his tone so harsh and cutting, he saw her flinch. “That was a mistake.”
“Yes …” she whispered, tears giving way to glints of anger, “it was, Steven, because that night you planted the seed of hope that someday you might feel for me what I feel for you.”
He slammed his fist on the table, spilling his coffee. “Blast it, Annie, you’re too young.”
“That’s just an excuse, and we both know it.”
His mouth went slack. “For the love of all that’s decent—you’re Maggie’s kid sister! Do you really think I can do this with you?”
She hoisted her chin, blinking back her tears. “I not only think you can, I think you do, but you’re too stubborn to admit it.”
He gaped, shaking his head as he dropped back in the seat, arm draped over the top. His lips parted in a smile that clearly conveyed his disbelief. “You’re out of your mind, kid, you know that? Drink your coffee,” he ordered, “the alcohol’s still muddling your brain.”
She did what he said, eyes averted and manner calming as if every drink she took braced her for battle. When she finished, she carefully laid the mug down and folded her hands neatly on the table, looking for all her eighteen years and tear-splotched face as if she were the adult and he was the pie-eyed kid on a bender. “What are you afraid of, Steven?”
That did it. “You want to know what I’m afraid of?” he demanded. “I’m afraid of this—some kid still wet behind the ears thinking it’s smart to fool around with a guy like me.”
“I have no intention of ‘fooling around’ with you,” she said quietly, the strength of her words belying the softness of her tone. “No matter how I feel about you.”
He stared open-mouthed, heat scalding his neck at the audacity of her statement. His pride prickled. Who did she think she was? Women threw themselves at him all the time. For pity’s sake, her own sister threw herself at him! And she thought she’d be different? He folded arms on the table and leaned in. “Don’t be so sure, little sister,” he said, a trace of anger in a voice that was husky and low. “You Kennedys don’t have the best track record, you know.”
He heard the sharp catch of her breath and took satisfaction in the blush that broiled her cheeks. And then she opened fire like one of Capone’s thugs, gunning him down with a flash of her eyes. “Well, this is a different Kennedy, Agent O’Connor, and a different sister, and you know what? I think you’re running scared. You can deny your feelings all you want, but the truth is, you kissed me—not once, but twice, not to mention interfering in my life at every turn—”
“Interfering in your life?” His voice rose along with his blood pressure.
She defied him with a hard thrust of her chin, eyes glittering. “Yes, first with Billy Brubaker, then Joe and Nate Phillips and now Eddie tonight when you dragged me away.”
“Dragged-you-away?” He blinked, barely able to believe he was wasting good breath arguing with a kid who was obviously as thick as she was tipsy. “I should have let them throw your carcass in jail, you brainless brat, and then you’d be Aunt Eleanor’s problem, not mine.”
“Exactly,” she snapped, as if he’d just proven her point. “But you didn’t. You risked your job and your reputation to haul me out of there tonight, so if we’re going to talk “brainless,” Agent O’Connor, then I suggest you look in the mirror because unless I miss my guess, you are one dim-witted man with his head in the sand.”
Miss Perky chose that moment to light on the booth, as welcome as a plague of locusts. “Here you go, two burgers, two orders of French fried potatoes, a slab of peach pie and a glass of milk.” She dazzled them with a grin. “Anything else?”
Steven forced a smile, jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. “Just the check.”
“Sure thing.” She placed the bill on the table and patted it for good measure. “Enjoy!”
Grinding his jaw, he grabbed his burger and bit in hard, singeing Annie with a glare.
She didn’t seem to notice, annoying him to no end. Lips pursed, she carefully cut her burger in half and took a dainty bite while perusing the menu with apparent fascination.
Halfway through his sandwich, he expelled a noisy breath. “Why are we arguing?”
She turned, chin elevated and brows raised. “Because you’re dimwitted and scared?”
He hurled his half-eaten burger on the plate. “Don’t start with me, Annie.”
“All right, Steven, how ‘bout I finish with you instead? Just because I’m in love with you doesn’t mean you can bully me around like some … some snot-nosed kid fresh off the farm.”
“You are some snot-nosed kid fresh off the farm,” he hissed.
“Fine. Have it your way—there are plenty of guys who see me otherwise.”
A harsh laugh erupted from his throat. “Oh, yeah, I’ve seen the kind of jokers you attract. Like that clown tonight with his hands all over you.”
She pushed her burger away, the anger in her tone matching her eyes. “He-was-consoling-me, you dimwit, and at least he’s man enough to take a chance on a girl that he likes.”
Her statement barbed, discharging his temper with a hard smile. “Sure, why not when he knows he can get what he wants?”
Her breath hitched, and he regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but it was too late. Her face sagged from anger into hurt. Chin trembling, she silently rose, hands shaking while she groped for her purse.
“Annie, look, I’m sorry—”
But not as sorry as he was gonna be. Taking a step forward, she hauled off and slapped him so hard he never saw it coming, bells clanging in his skull as loudly as those from the door when it slammed hard behind her.
FRIDAY, MARCH 16, 2012
“Besides, Mrs. McClare,” he said softly,
“I can be stimulating too.” The rogue in him took over as his gaze flitted to her lips
and back, his voice a husky whisper. “Or don’t you remember?”
—Love at any Cost by Julie Lessman
WHOO-EE, crazy week!! I’m heading up to Revell in Grand Rapids, Michigan Thursday and Friday for a meeting and a book signing, so I’m posting my Journal Jot early AND taking the easy way out with one of my favorite scenes from the 1st book in the Heart of San Francisco series, Love at an Cost.
But first, if you live in Grand Rapids or close, I would LOVE to see you, so consider checking out my Q&A/Book signing at the Baker Book House Thursday night, March 15, from 7:00 – 8:30 PM. Bring your books for me to sign or just come say hello if you are in the area, okay?
Now on to what is one of my favorite scenes in Love at any Cost. There is no kissing in this scene, but there is such a strong attraction and longing, that I really like it—especially the paragraph where Logan talks about being “familiar” with Cait. To set you up, this particular scene involves the matriach of the family Caitlyn McClare and her rogue brother-in-law Logan McClare, to whom she was once engaged 26 years ago before he cheated on her. She then married his older brother instead, but now has been a widow for two years. Logan has never stopped loving her and fully intends to make her his, which is the last thing Cait wants even though she’s attracted to him. Here’s a scene at the famous and historical Palace Hotel in San Francisco where the two are dancing at a family dinner for Logan’s birthday. Happy reading!
“So … two questions, Cait,” Logan said. “One—why did you finally agree to dance with me after declining all night and two—why did you agree to Napa?” He spun her in his arms, the orchestra’s rendition of Jere Mahoney’s For Old Time’s Sake haunting him as much as he hoped it haunted her. His heart thudded as he studied her in the soft glow of the chandeliers overhead. The flawless porcelain skin, the eyes the color of jade and that lustrous auburn hair piled high with just enough loose strays to tease an alabaster neck, leaving no doubt whatsoever that his attraction to her had never waned. Oh, he’d buried it deep when she had married his brother, certainly, allowing him to survive the loss of her in his heart and in his bed, but somehow it had surfaced with a vengeance in the last year, and that alone told him that the timing was right.
She’d been chattering nonstop while they danced, so out of character for a woman as content with silence as she was conversing with family and friends, and he couldn’t help the faint smile that shadowed his lips. She was obviously nervous—the song, the dancing, the memories—all too close to home for them both, and her unease reminded him of the girl he’d proposed to almost twenty-seven years ago in this very ballroom. Only seventeen, she’d been shy and sweet and oh, so tempting, but innocent to a fault. A ‘fault’ that had resulted in utter shock and heartbreak when he’d dallied with another. He exhaled slowly, his regret hidden behind an easy smile. Come on, Cait, give me another chance. For old time’s sake?
She stared at him now on the heels of his questions, the chatter suddenly nowhere in sight, and he was fascinated by the slight flare of her pupils, the shift of her throat, those full lips so ripe for tasting now parted in shallow breaths. He awaited her response while heavily fringed eyelids flickered in thought, and he realized her pull on him was stronger now than the night he’d slipped the ring on her finger. He hadn’t been just smitten with her then, no, he’d been besotted, but a man whose desire for her, regrettably, was far outweighed by youthful lust.
“Why did I finally agree to dance with you?” she repeated, her voice as wispy as the gauzy pale-yellow bodice that rose and fell with every breath she took. Her chin lifted enough for him to know she was steeling herself for battle, promptly broadening the smile on his lips. A good sign—at least she was battling something. Her feelings for him, perhaps? Or his for her?
“Yes, why now?” he said, with a shuttered smile. He slowed his steps as the music ended, but held firm lest she bolt away. “After cruelly turning me away all night.”
Color toasted her cheeks, and the chin rose higher. “I danced with you, Logan McClare, because you asked, and I didn’t prior to because I was engaged in stimulating conversations.” She stepped back a fraction of an inch despite his lock on her waist.
The strains of Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder filtered through the ballroom, and Logan found himself hoping against hope that the song was prophetic for Cait. Heaven knows it was for him. He grinned. “Come on, Cait, you’re not a woman prone to untruths. Why don’t you just admit the only reason you said yes is because it’s my birthday and you felt guilty?”
A pretty shade of rose burnished her cheeks and he laughed, enjoying that she was so easy to read … and rile. He swept her in a wide arc, savoring the way wisps of scarlet fluttered in the breeze. “Besides, Mrs. McClare,” he said softly, “I can be stimulating too.” The rogue in him took over as his gaze flitted to her lips and back, his voice a husky whisper. “Or don’t you remember?”
Color swamped her throat and cheeks, nearly swallowing her whole, and he laughed out loud, firming his grip when he felt her attempt to pull away. “Come on, Cait, I’m sorry, but you’re just so easy to bait.” His smile ebbed into a tender look. “You always were, as I recall.”
Shooting a nervous glance at their table, she fixed him with a stern gaze, gold flecks of fire in those startling green eyes. “Please keep your voice down.” Her nostrils flared slightly as she drew in a calming breath, chin engaged once again. “And I’d appreciate it if you would not refer to our past to anyone, including me.” Her tone softened. “We are friends, Logan, please keep that in mind. I am not one of your many women to be toyed with, I am your sister-in-law. I ask that you treat me with the respect due your brother’s wife.”
He gave her a veiled look. “You mean my brother’s widow,” he said quietly.
Her jaw set. “Either way, you are my brother-in-law, and it’s uncomfortable when your comments or actions are overly familiar.”
Grip firm, his eyes and voice softened. “You forget, Cait,” he whispered, his humor no longer a mask for his feelings, “I am overly familiar with you, whether you like it or not. I know your habits, your expressions, every nuance of your face. I know you take Earl Gray with sugar in the morning and Chamomile without at night. I know you have a habit of jutting your chin when backed into corner and that wine makes you tipsy after the first couple of sips. You pick at your nails when you’re nervous and you twirl you hair when in thought, and despite your love for the classics,” he said in a rush, exhaling slowly, “you have a secret fondness for dime novels.” His voice trailed to a whisper. “Especially on rainy days.”
She stared, lips parted, as if poised for her lungs to start breathing again.
Her hand felt small and warm in his and with a shift of his throat, he gently circled her palm with his thumb. “We have history, Cait,” he said softly.
Tears glimmered as she carefully slipped her hand from his, the grief in her face a mirror reflection of his own. “Yes, we do. But that’s no basis for a future.” Slowly, gently, she cupped a palm to his cheek. “I need a friend, Logan, nothing more.” The bridge of her nose puckered as she studied him intently. “Can you be that for me—please?” The orchestra began to play, and she took his hand. “Can we celebrate your birthday as family members who respect and support each other?” She peered up, a gentle woman with a gentle request. “And friends—good friends?”
He paused, unable to breathe for the ache in his chest. Bracing his palm to her shoulder, he lifted her hand to begin the dance, a dance of will and heart that he was determined to win. He smiled, his manner as kind as hers. “Sure, Cait, friends.” With casual grace, he whirled her to the music, her body suddenly relaxed and fluid and calm.
For now.
Happy Weekend!!
Hugs,
Julie
Meet Julie
