Monthly Archives: February 2019

God is Faithful

In today’s world, everything is about outcomes. We plan and strategize to satisfy a goal or complete a project or retire early. I remember having a goal to have my son potty trained by a certain age. I’d read books and articles on the topic, talked to other parents, and purchased all the right supplies. I’m sure you can guess how that turned out, but the good news is eventually, he did start using the toilet. (Well, most of the time, but boys do like the great outdoors.)

This month I started working at our church part-time as the Director of Women’s Ministries. I prayed and prayed to determine if I could fulfill the duties of this job and continue writing. In the end, I knew I needed to take a step of faith and apply for the job. Now, if you follow me at all, you know I’m in the middle of writing a book. My goal is to complete this novel before I go to a writing conference in March, so I have to write a lot each week. The first week on the job I really didn’t know how I would reach my word count goals each day, but somehow each day it happened.

“Your love, O Lord, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies.” Psalm 36:5

Y’all God is so faithful He doesn’t ask us to do something without giving us the tools to do it. I don’t need to worry about my story or how I will do this job. If He has called me to do something, He will make it work the way He intended.

Did you catch that last part? The way He intended. We only need to “be strong, fight bravely … The Lord will do what is good in His sight.” 2Sam. 10:12. Taking a step of faith, trusting God with your work requires courage and strength. Fight might seem like a strong word, but when you look at your schedule and every block is filled, finding time to rest sometimes feels like a struggle. I pray that you will rest in the comfort that God is faithful to his promises.

February GiveawayThe Line Between by Tosca Lee 

This book will have you turning pages faster than the apocalyptic disease in the story can spread across the United States. Wynter Roth is turned out of the religious commune she’s lived in for most of her life, and the end of the world that the cult leader predicted is now coming true. But nothing is as it seems, and Wynter finds herself in possession of the key to stopping disease—save the bacon, save the world.

To enter the Giveaway, comment on this post on the website and subscribe to my blog if you haven’t already. What is your favorite breakfast food?

Simply go to The orange comment button is directly under this post. Only USA residents are eligible. Last day to enter is February 28th.

Croquet Kiss, a Flash Fiction story by Leslie DeVooght

Happy February. I’ve been busy writing a new book, so I’m re-posting one of my favorite stories. It was actually the first flash fiction I ever wrote. It is set on Jekyll Island, Georgia during the early 1900’s when the millionaires would take their winter holidays on Jekyll. I encourage you to visit Jekyll and take a tour of their “vacation cottages.” I hope you enjoy this story.


Crouquet Kiss by Leslie DeVooght


Clarice’s yellow ball rolled to a stop beside John’s black one. With her precise putt, she’d created an irresistible target.

John pulled back his wooden mallet and swung with gusto. His competitive spirit vanquished his manners.


John’s ball smashed against her ball, sending it sailing over the manicured lawn. It rested in the rough under a sweeping oak. His shot went beyond defense and social graces, but her ball couldn’t have landed in a more perfect location.

Rowdy cheers rose from the gentlemen, entertaining her friends on the veranda of the Jekyll Island Club House.

Jekyll Island Club

Clarice glanced to the spectators.

The ladies paused—their glasses of lemonade suspended. They breathed a collective sigh, while their wide brim hats swayed like sailing yachts on an undulating sea.

With a smug grin, John tipped his hat to his friends. His chest swelled, confident of his skill. Surely this surge of masculinity would encourage him to act on the sparks that flew between them.

Clarice bit down on her lip, a smile pushing at the corners. Before John caught a glimpse of her expression, she tossed her white, lace sunhat and marched across the croquet court. She swung her mallet like a drum major’s baton, feigning irritation.

Last night, she’d tarried with John in the beam of the moon on the stoop of her uncle’s vacation cottage. And when John leaned into her, she tilted her chin, lips puckered—ready. But instead of warm lips on hers, he’d lifted her hand and politely pecked the back of her fingers—merely childhood friends.

Ire rose in her, warming her cheeks—time to take matters into her own hands.

Click here to read the rest of the story.