Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Not Life Like His

Jesus Christ in the Ancient Aramaic language is Eashoa' Msheekha: The Anointed Life-Giver.

They discounted Him, a baby born in a manager, though angels sang His praises, shepherds worshiped at his feet, and wise men traveled from afar. (Lk 2:7,13;Mt 2:1)

They were dismayed by Him, a youth found in the temple inquiring after His Father's business. (Lk 2:49) Didn't they know that's where He'd be?

They denied Him, saying, "He's John the Baptist, Elias, or one of the prophets. Not God. He couldn't be." (Mk 8:28)

They destroyed Him, hung Him on the cross to die like a thief and a robber, when all He'd done was love the lost and heal the forsaken. (Mt 26:55)

Then they diminished Him, rolled a stone over the tomb, posted a guard and said, "See there? Get out of this one." (Mt 27:60)

A dare. But they didn't know He wasn't finished yet. He had more work to do. After all, He was The Anointed Life-Giver.

He'd been that all along - the Holy Spirit descended on Him like a dove and a voice from heaven declared it. "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." (Mt 3:17) And again on the mountain, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; hear ye him." (Mt 17:5)

Hear Him because He's the Life-Giver. Do you get that? Do you?

He's there walking on earth, healing the sick, the blind, and the lame because all that was in Him is life. He's casting out devils because all that is in Him is life. He's raising the dead because all that is in Him is life.The woman touched His garment and received because all He had to give is life. Jairus' daughter opened her eyes because He's so full of life. (Mt 9:20;Mt 5:42)

"Just ask," He said, "and I'll give you life. Believe, and I'll give you life. Pray, and I'll give you life. Share and I'll give others life, too." Life for whosoever, whensoever, wheresoever. No exemptions. No exclusions. No exceptions.

Yet discounted, denied, and dismissed, He did the only thing One with so much life could do, He delivered them. He traded His life for their death! (Php 2:8) When life was all He'd known, life was all He'd had, life was all He'd experienced, and all the while the people hissed and booed and cast him aside. "I don't know him. I haven't been with him. Crucify him."

Crucify the Life-Giver.

But see, there's the thing. Life as we know it is fragile. Things die and we mourn. But not life like His, that kind of life you can't set aside, put away, or lock up. That kind of life you can't send into hell and expect things to stay the same because that kind of life has to do something, change something, create something.

That's the life that forms land, and skies and seas. (Ge 1:1) That's life that makes man in its own image. (Ge 1:26) That's life that is so bright, so marvelous, so wonderful you can't stand in it, can't contain it, can't suppress it. That's life abundant, exceeding, and overflowing. (Eph 3:20)

They had it all wrong. Because in killing the Life-Giver they released the very life they tried to desist into the heart of any man who raises his voice to receive it. Any man from that day across the ages of time to this who with fingers outstretched decides to pull on that life until The Anointed Life-Giver returns.

Because He's coming. He's coming. Do you hear me? THE ANOINTED LIFE-GIVER IS COMING. You can't stop life like that. Man already tried. And failed.

And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and The Anointed Life-Giver, whom thou hast sent.  (John 17:3 KJV, my paraphrase)

Sweet love has overtaken me, all my darkness turned to light
This hope that overcame the world now surrounding, shows me life

Greater, Stronger than the storm and fire
or sorrow by night, You are
Greater, Stronger all my heart would sing
your matchless worth, Your love


Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Sunday Photographs

Here's this week's 365 Project photographs. To view the entire set of photographs taken this year, visit my Photobucket.

Day 139, Sunrise Cloud
Day 139 photo 500-DSC_6664_zpsaa799009.jpg

Day 140, Dragonfly
Day 140 photo 500-DSC_6682_zps8792e7fd.jpg

Day 141, Damselfly
Day 141 photo 500-DSC_6689_zps5c5c406b.jpg

Day 142, Wasp
Day 142 photo 500-DSC_6734_zps59105d48.jpg

Day 143, Female Eastern Pondhawk Dragonfly
Day 143 photo 500-DSC_6748_zpscad9056a.jpg

Day 144, Onion Blossom
Day 144 photo 640-DSC_6761_zpsb25c5d53.jpg

Day 145, Fairy Lily
Day 145 photo 500-148DSC_6766_zps980a7220.jpg

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

To all the Timothy Coopers

You are young, but don't let anyone treat you as if you are not important. Be an example to show the believers how they should live. Show them by what you say, by the way you live, by your love, by your faith, and by your pure life. (1 Timothy 4:12 ERV) 
I'm counting Timothy Coopers.Teen boys willing to take a stand for honor and respect. And Taylor Lawtons, teen girls who refuse to compromise their virginity, their innocence. I'm counting youths willing to set examples in faith and purity and backbone and maybe teach us old codgers a thing or two about doing what's right.

Because I see it all the time. Adults, parents who think they can compromise with their children, do things halfway. A little of this is okay. They'll grow out of that.

But I have news for them. We cannot raise our children without godly morals and expect them to make correct decisions. Absence of faith and thereby absence of God leads to wayward lives and wrong choices.

I didn't write that, the apostle Paul did. He says in verse 16 of this same chapter, "Be careful in your life and in your teaching. Continue to live and teach rightly. Then you will save yourself and those who listen to your teaching." (ERV)

That's pretty sobering. My example saves the lives of those who hear me? And my daughter's example, your son's, and your daughter's examples as well.

How many lives will they save? And who will they save? It could be somebody right on the edge. It could be someone over the edge. It could be someone who doesn't believe they can ever come back from where they're at. It could be their future spouse, or a future pastor, future civil leader or politician.

Which makes this instruction as much to the parent and grandparent as it is to the teen or the twenty-something. Because it is our examples that give them theirs.  

It is us saying, "Sex outside of marriage is wrong, and marriage is between one man and one woman." It's us extending arms of grace to the teen mom or dad and the child born out of wedlock so they know God is love, and faith is awesome when fully embraced. It's us acknowledging angst and attraction and peer pressure and hormones and providing answers and solutions instead of shaken heads and pointed fingers.

It's our saying, "Do as I do" because we've lived the very life we're expecting them to follow.

I know I'm not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God to all who believe. (Rm 1:16) To the young. To the old. To the broken and down-trodden. To the girl who said that my only solution for teen sexual issues was marriage. To the other one who said I write "fluff."

Ask me what I stand for and I'll tell you. I stand for all the Timothy Coopers out there. For the boy whose mom told me he wears a t-shirt sporting the slogan, "I love my wife and I haven't met her," and "Virginity rocks."

Because it does. It's faith and purity setting an example for others to follow. It's his life changing another. Here's to you kid. I'm proud.

When I Fall In Love (Nat King Cole and Natalie Cole)

When I fall in love it will be forever
Or I'll never fall in love
In a restless world like this is
Love is ended before it's begun
And too many moonlight kisses
Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun

When I give my heart it will be completely
Or I'll never give my heart
And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too
Is when I fall in love with you.


Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Sunday Photographs

Here's this week's 365 Project photographs. If you'd like to see the entire album of photographs from this year, visit my Photobucket.

Day 132, Black-eyed Susan
Day 132 photo 500-DSC_6563_zps474d0a75.jpg

Day 133, Bream
Day 133 photo 500-DSC_6570_zpsdfbebd3b.jpg

Day 134, Red Rose
Day 134 photo 500-DSC_6585_zpse2d4bf0f.jpg

Day 135, Donkey's Tail Blossoms
Day 135 photo 500-DSC_6599_zps59b3c111.jpg

Day 136, Dragonfly
Day 136 photo 500-DSC_6620_zpsfdd86069.jpg

Day 137, Mockingbird
Day 137 photo 500-DSC_6638_zps6000d8aa.jpg

Day 138, Green Anole with Back Injury
Day 138 photo 500-DSC_6650_zps7499a52c.jpg

And here's an additional photograph taken of our garden pond this week.
Water Lilies 5/16/2013 photo 500-DSC_6624_zpsded29935.jpg

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Story Saturdays - Of All The Ways He Loves Me

This week I released my three best-selling stories, ME & TIMOTHY COOPER, I KISSED THE BOY NEXT DOOR, and THE BEST WEEK OF MY LIFE in a paperback compilation. On sale now for $12.00. Makes a great gift for your teen or yourself for light summer romance reading.

Also on the horizon is my first Time-Travel Romance book, FOR ETERNITY. Hopefully, this will be released sometime in June.


Today's excerpt is from an upcoming YA entitled, "Of All The Ways He Loves Me." No Release Date yet. 

“I love you as a friend, Nat. I love you as a sister. I love you as a neighbor, a school mate, and a dozen other things. I simply want to know if I love you as a girl, and maybe if you can love me in return.”
Nadia Asbury knew everything there was to know about Paterson Radovich, his likes and dislikes, what viruses and injuries he’d had, and every Christmas present he’d received since they were ten. He was, after all, her best friend. Yet asked out on a date, she wonders if she knows him at all.

“Trust me,” he says.

And, yes, well, she does, and him more than any other person she knows. But maybe now she doesn’t trust herself because what if this is all in vain? What if after all his efforts, she doesn’t feel anything? Scarier still, what if she does?

From the author of ME & TIMOTHY COOPER and I KISSED THE BOY NEXT DOOR comes another feel-good romance of that precious moment when a boy and a girl first fall in love.
In this scene from chapter one, Nadia is dealing with a serious head cold and a strange statement from the boy who is her best friend. What exactly is he up to? 


I was sick, seriously sick, the kind of sick where half your sinuses drip incessantly and the other half are dry and stuffy. My arms ached. My legs ached, and my head was a balloon. I was also thinking of trying dreds in my hair from lack of washing it. I mean, washing took energy, something I didn’t have in a ready supply. Moreover, I’d welded myself to the tissue box and a two liter of cola. The soda had kept me alive, I do believe, along with chicken noodle soup in a can.
So it was with complete horror that I contemplated my mom’s statement.
“Get dressed, Sweetheart, we’re going to the church picnic.”
The church picnic? Were her eyes open? Was she actually looking at me?
“I am not going to the church picnic,” I said flatly.
This earned me the mom look, the one that says I’m skating on the edge.
“Look at me,” I said. “I’m a disas … disas …” I ended the word with a tremendous sneeze – totally unplanned – and thought that’d convince her.
It didn’t.
“You just need a nice bath and fresh clothes, and you’ll be as good as new,” she chirped.
Yeah, because fresh clothes would help. I admit my jammies were smelling kinda funky. I’d been in them for two days. But I strongly suspected my head would be the same no matter what I wore. This mess, whatever it was, was determined to take me out.
“I’ll have to sit there and pretend I care,” I whined. And listen to twelve people tell me how bad I look, something I knew already; how their cousin had something like that recently, and it was so much worse than what I was dealing with; and could they please pray for me?
Okay, so prayer wasn’t such a bad idea as long as it didn’t require me to do anything. Again, no energy.
“Obey your mother.”
Dad was now getting into the mix, and that was bad because it gave me no choice. He had his arms crossed, too, a sure sign I should toe the line.
I didn’t dare argue, so I slunk off to my room and contemplated a long, excruciating morning. This was the end, completely the end. One look at me and the entire youth group would run screaming. Parents would yank away their kids. Grandmothers would chase me around with disinfectant.
I fell back on the bed prone, my arms splayed out on either side, and said the first thing that came into my brain. “Dear, God. Why?”


“You look awful,” Penny said.
I didn’t bother to turn my head and find her. I was too drained.
“Seriously, awful.” She reiterated it and then found my gaze for herself by leaning overhead. Her straight brown locks formed a curtain around her face, making it rounder than it really was.
“I feel so much better about myself now. Thanks,” I said.
She smiled. “You’re welcome.” She disappeared from view and coming around the fold-out table, seated herself beside me.
I made no effort to turn my head.
“Your parents made you come, huh?” she asked from her new position by my left ear.
“What day is it?” I asked.
She laughed. “That bad?”
“Awful. Just dig a hole and bury me.”
“I’ll help,” said a new voice. Deep. Male. Paterson Radovich.
I wanted to weep or cheer, one. I couldn’t decide. First, because he’d offered to dig the hole Second, because burial seemed like a relief right then.
“I’ll even plant flowers at your headstone,” he said.
“That’s so sweet of you,” I replied. “The only thing that’d make it better was if you’d propose first.”
He chuckled. “I might, so long as I get your music collection once you’re gone.”
“Nadia Asbury, you look terrible.” Friend number three had arrived.
“Wow,” I said. “I didn’t know. Thanks, Jenn.”
“Paterson just proposed,” Penny inserted.
Jenn plopped down in a chair opposite me and propped her chin in her hands. “To Nadia? Awesome. When’s the wedding?”
“Next summer,” I replied. “Or one week from now, depending on if I die or not.”
“Can I be best maid?” Jenn asked.
I grunted. I was through talking.
“Oh, boy,” Paterson said. “A woman that won’t speak. I’m set for life.”
“At least, until she passes on, then she’ll haunt you,” Penny said.
“And I’ll pine away.”
This was really going too far, this whole think-about-my-death thing, so I raised my hand. “If I could get a word in edgewise,” I mumbled.
They all looked at me, expectant.
“Would one of you wake me up when this is over and don’t let me drool in the meantime?”
This brought laughter all around and the attention of Evelyn Fitzpatrick. Evelyn Fitzpatrick was what my mom called a case, that being a generalization of any number of frustrating people or situations. Pencil thin with razor straight blonde hair, she was pretty in a sort of blade-of-grass kinda way, but it wasn’t her looks that made her a case. It was her attitude. In short, Evelyn was a snob.
She was also in love with Paterson, who couldn’t stand her. He’d told me this on a number of occasions, and the fact I knew it and had shared it with both Penny and Jenn made me her number one target. Not that there was much she could do to me. I outweighed her and had a mean right cross.
“Gee, Nadia, you look terrible.”
This statement coming from the others had been cute, funny, and endearing, but coming from Evelyn it was spiteful. I glared at her and wiped my runny nose with the back of my hand. I then extended it.
“Good to see you, Evie.” I stretched for her fingers, and she squealed and withdrew.
Penny, Jenn, and Paterson were chuckling behind me.
“Don’t touch me. You’re sick,” she said.
“You’ve gotten so smart. I’m impressed.”
She snarled at me, her lip curled. “You’re never funny. Hard as you try.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, and I had this moment where Evelyn fit all the snotty-girl TV sitcom molds.
She spotted Paterson and her face changed; she crossed her arms behind her back and sort of swayed. “Hi, Paterson.”
Penny poked her head into the scene. “You can’t talk to him. He’s engaged to Nadia.”
“Engaged?” Her voice raised and her eyes spun wide.
“Yep, as of five minutes ago,” Jenn said.
Evelyn stared at the all of us then narrowed her eyes. “You’re not engaged. That’s a joke, and again, not funny.”
Then Paterson spoke and his words sent me for a spin. “Bug off, Evelyn. Nadia and I are an item.”
I twisted my neck as far backwards as I could, barely catching his eye with the corner of my left one, and found him smiling at me.
Paterson and I went way back to fourth grade. He was the annoying boy seated behind me who kept looking over my shoulder for the test answers, the one who then sat beside me at lunch and on the playground, saying weird random stuff like, “Chicken wing,” for no reason at all. Of course, that was in fourth grade, and we were seniors next year, so we’d worked through a lot of that childishness and become fast friends.
But that was all – friends. I’d never considered dating him, and he’d never asked to date me, so us being an item was a surprise. However, I wasn’t about to say so in front of Evelyn.
“Since when?” she asked. I could see her pulse racing in her throat. She believed it.
“Since a while now,” he replied. “We’re together all the time or hadn’t you noticed?”
That was true. We were together a lot. He came over all the time, had dinner with us, and he and I would go places. But exactly like we’d always done.
Evelyn didn’t say anything, but her wheels were spinning. “I think you’re funning with me,” she said. “You’re trying to make me feel stupid.”
“No funning,” he said. “If she wasn’t so sick, I’d prove it.”
I was really interested in this conversation now. Exactly how would he do that?
“You would?” she asked.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I? Look, give us two weeks, and I’ll do it then.”
Do what? I was screaming the question in my head. I knew Paterson as well as I knew myself. I knew he hated caramel, but liked whipped topping. I knew he ate peanut butter cups in a circle and thought peppermints tasted good melted in his coffee. I could tell you what size clothing he wore, about the infection he had in his right toe after he went swimming in the lake, and exactly how many chicken pox he’d had when he was ten. But I honestly had no idea where he was going with this conversation.
But apparently Evelyn did because she looked from him to me, one hand on her hip, and nodded. “You swear, and you have to do it in public in front of everyone.”
He held up his right hand. “I swear by God and the hair on my mother’s head.”
She gave a snort. “Very well. But I warn you, if it isn’t good …”
“Oh, it will be, so relax. Now, if you don’t mind, I think your mom’s calling.”
She was, in fact, calling. I’d heard a minute ago; she had this pitchy voice, like a bird on helium.
Evelyn glanced over her shoulder then walked away, and I waited. Waited and waited for her to be far enough off. Then I whirled on him.
“What was all that? We’re an item now? Exactly what are you going to do?”
He grinned at me, this silly, boyish grin that was so Paterson, and leaned onto his elbows propped on his knees. “You mean, you don’t know?”
But obviously I didn’t. He knew that, and he was enjoying this. I looked past him at Penny and Jenn. Penny was sweating bullets. I’d never seen her so disturbed, and Jenn … Jenn was about to come unglued she was so excited.
“Somebody tell me!” I screamed. I shouldn’t have screamed because my throat scrape raw and I fell to coughing. It took me ten minutes and a can of soda to recover. Then tissue in hand, my breath half held, I refocused blurry eyes on his face.
And he straightened, tilting his head to the left. “It’s very simple. In two weeks, I’m going to kiss you.”

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Crossreads Book Blast - Susette Williams

NOTE TO MY READERS:  This author post is not me. :-) But I encourage you to enter. Great children's books!

TITLE: Book Blast: Wacky Wishes by Susette Williams, Illustrated by Jack Foster - Enter to Win a $25 Amazon Gift Card!
Title: Wacky Wishes By Susette Williams Author, Jack Foster Illustrator

About the Book:

Tommy and Suzie find a wishing well and like children do, they begin making wishes. Imagine their surprise when their wishes start to come true! Are spacesuits the new dress code at school? What�s Tommy going to do with three heads? You�ve heard of, �Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.� When Tommy and Suzie's wishing gets out of hand, will they be able to wish away the mess they've created before their wishes run out?

Buy on Kindle
Susette_300_dpiSusette Williams Author, Jack Foster Illustrator Susette Williams is a Best Selling Author. She loves writing various genres, both for children and adults. She usually can't resist the urge to let her ornery sense of humor shine through in one of her characters and has always believed that laughter helps you deal with the obstacles life puts in your way. Susette and her husband have six wonderful children, all with intriguing and different personalities, like the characters she creates in her novels. Jack Foster has illustrated over 25 children's books. He is a Sunday school teacher, art teacher and the father of five terrific children and eleven wonderful grand kids. He lives just outside of Chicago with his lovely wife, dog and cat. Check out his work at Follow Susette Williams Website | Facebook | Twitter

Enter to Win a $25 Amazon Gift Card!

Enter below to enter a $25 amazon gift card, sponsored by author Susette Williams Author, Jack Foster Illustrator! a Rafflecopter giveaway This book blast is hosted by Crossreads. We would like to send out a special THANK YOU to all of the CrossReads book blast bloggers!

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

The Enemy Wears Camouflage

You know that you have been taught, "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth." But I tell you not to try to get even with a person who has done something to you. When someone slaps your right cheek, turn and let that person slap your other cheek. If someone sues you for your shirt, give up your coat as well. If a soldier forces you to carry his pack one mile, carry it two miles. When people ask you for something, give it to them. When they want to borrow money, lend it to them. You have heard people say, "Love your neighbors and hate your enemies." But I tell you to love your enemies and pray for anyone who mistreats you. Then you will be acting like your Father in heaven. He makes the sun rise on both good and bad people. And he sends rain for the ones who do right and for the ones who do wrong. If you love only those people who love you, will God reward you for that? Even tax collectors love their friends. If you greet only your friends, what's so great about that? Don't even unbelievers do that? But you must always act like your Father in heaven.(Matthew 5:38-48 CEV)

It hurt. Those words said to me. I felt neglected, overlooked, unappreciated. Invisible. It wasn't the first time either, so I guess I should have expected it.

People are inherently selfish. It's, "Do for me. Give to me. Look at me."

And I was as guilty as them in that regard, so maybe this was my fault. Maybe I sewed the seed of hate and neglect at some point, maybe I overlooked someone. Maybe I didn't shine the light of Christ bright enough. And this is my reward.

Then again ...

Christ's instructions were written to everyone. My name's written there, but so is theirs. Did they think of that when they spoke to me? Did they even realize with their behavior they became the enemy. Because the enemy is in our own camp.

The enemy is that guy who shook your hand yesterday, put a dime in your pocket, dipped your plate, cut your hair, sat in your pew, and in the next breath said, "Did you see her?" Your enemy is the one closest to you, the friend, the child, the spouse, parent, or inlaw you've pledged to love and cherish, but then they turn their back because they have "other things to do."

The enemy doesn't come clothed in fluorescent orange. The enemy wears camouflage. They look like you. They look like me.

And I must love them anyway. That's what Jesus said. He said, "They spoke against you about this thing, so offer them the other one as well." Equal opportunity insults.

And greet them.
And carry their pack.
And lend them things expecting nothing in return.

Because we must always act like our Father in heaven. No greater act than His was stabbed in the back more. Nothing ever said to me, spoken over me, or whispered behind my back compares.

I haven't died for my enemy. But He did.
So really what's a slap on the other cheek? Piddly. Small. Inconsequential. What's another dime from my pocket? Another meal I didn't want to take? Another book I didn't want to give away. Another negative comment, remark, or review when it makes me like Him.

And that is my goal, to be like Him. Like Him in victory. Like Him in power. Like Him in prayer and glory and healthy and prosperity. Like Him in offering salvation to the poor, the downtrodden, the hopeless.

Like Him in love. In reaction, reflex, and recoil. So much like Him that in my worst pain, in that moment I want to curl up and cry, or lash out in hate, instead I tilt my cheek and say, "Go ahead. Do it again."

For all the times I’ve failed You, Lord
Forgive me
For all the ways I’ve fallen short
Lord, forgive me now
God, I’m so in need of grace
I fall upon my face
Forgive me

Forgive Me by Rebecca St. James

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Sunday Photographs

My Steve's Digicams article is now online. I went out to walk the dog, THEN LIGHT CAME. Read my thoughts on my most popular recent image.

Here's this week's 365 Project photographs. To see the complete album, visit my Photobucket.

Day 125, False Dandelion
Day 125 photo 500-DSC_6486_zps6c91d5eb.jpg

Day 126, Fairy Lily
Day 126 photo 500-DSC_6495_zpsf94c25bf.jpg

Day 127, Crescent Moon
Day 127 photo 500-DSC_6507_zpsbbb12678.jpg

Day 128, Water Hyacinths
Day 128 photo 500-DSC_6513_zps716f47c6.jpg

Day 129, Sunrise and Fog
Day 129 photo 500-DSC_6531_zpscd4c2790.jpg

Day 130, Male Brown Anole
Day 130 photo 500-DSC_6548_zpsb5884197.jpg

Day 131, Miniature Rose
Day 131 photo 500-DSC_6559_zps0af31b77.jpg

A few extras.

False Dandelions
False Dandelions 5/5/2013 photo 500-DSC_6478_zps7ced79d1.jpg

False Dandelions 5/5/2013 photo 500-DSC_6485_zps93bf3c3c.jpg

My Spring Garden
My Spring Flowerbed 5/6/2013 photo 500-DSC_6505_zpsdb549aff.jpg

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Story Saturdays - More Ichabod & Penelope

As of this morning (Thursday 5/9/2013) "my boys" are sitting at 1-2-3 on the Christian Fiction/Short Stories best-selling charts and essentially jockeying for position with each other. Many thanks to all who've worked to put them there and to the readers for buying.

Today, I thought I'd share another excerpt from an upcoming YA entitled "Ichabod & Penelope." (That being the story I'm currently working on.) If you missed it, the very first piece of the book is still on the blog. In that scene, the two main characters shared an amazing kiss, never mind they didn't know one another.

Today, we meet the actual faces behind the false names, Georgia Davis and Devon Walker. The thing is, neither one of them want to know that. For now. 

Also, here's your first look at the book cover.

“So you’re telling me you kissed some strange boy, who’d given you a false name, just for the heck of it?” The lift of Heather’s eyebrows and bite of her voice fully expressed her disbelief.
I stuffed my sandwich in my mouth, thus rendering myself speechless.
But she waited, her fingers tapping on the tabletop in a staccato rhythm.
I gulped the bite down. “He was cute,” I said.
“Cute? Antoine was cute, too, but I didn’t kiss him.”
Antoine. Why’d she dig him up? That was tenth grade. I kept that thought to myself.
“He asked.” I tried this angle, but she puckered her mouth, drawing up one side of her face. Disbelief. She wasn’t buying it.
“Did you at least get his real name?”
I smiled. “Nope.”
Her expression became yet more wide-eyed. “No? And you agreed to go out with him?”
I grinned. I had, sans name.
“Friday,” I replied.
“Georgia Davis, you’re crazy. You cannot go out with a boy if you don’t know his real name.”
“I can and I will.”
She smacked me in the forehead. “Knock some sense into that pretty noggin. He could be a crazy pervert. He could have more girls than Satan’s got demons.”
I scowled. She was ruining my good mood.
“Okay, that was a bad analogy, but you know you’re inexperienced.” She sat back in her chair, one arm over the ridge of the seat, and kinked her neck an inch or two. “You liked him.”
Unabashed, I gazed back at her. I had, immensely. He’d made me laugh.
“But you need to date Thomas.”
“Thomas? I don’t want to date Thomas. He’s …” How to say disgusting kindly? “Gross.”
“Gross, but safe,” she said. “And dating Mr. Unknown is not safe. You need to call this off.”
“I’m not calling this off,” I said. “This is the best I’ve felt in ages, and you’re only jealous because your last date was a complete bust.”
Gropey McGroperson. That’s what she’d called him. All hands and fingers, picking at her blouse, roaming everywhere.
“At least with him I knew what he was about to do. With this guy, you don’t. Besides, how are you going to avoid finding out his name? If he goes here, someone will know him.”
I took a sip of my drink, fiddling with the straw. “We thought of that. We’re meeting at the gates and driving one town over.”
“You planned it together?” She blew out a puff of air. “You’re crazy. After all the stories on the news …”
“Oh, come on!” I snapped, interrupting her. “You’re treating me like I’m some nincompoop. I’ll be fine. I know how to say no.”
But her return expression said she doubted it and more than that, that she was worried. I couldn’t see why. It was only one date, one date I was going on whether she liked it or not.
I checked the time on my phone. “You’re going to be late for class.”
Her face changed then from contemplation of my safety to complete panic. She couldn’t afford to be late again. She shot up from the table, slinging her book bag over her shoulder, and waved at me before she disappeared. I returned to my sandwich.
I had a date, an actual date, with a guy I couldn’t wait to go out with. So what I didn’t know his name. He didn’t know mine either, and that was half the fun of it.
I couldn’t see as there was any harm. Heather was just being paranoid.


“Devon, dude!”
Devon pocketed his cell and looked for the person calling his name. His gaze landed on Rory Hutchins’ bulging face, and a curse word fell out. Fortunately, if Rory heard it, he didn’t respond or apply it personally.
“Saw you this morning,” Rory said. He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows upward, an expression that made him look curiously like a turtle.
Devon leaned his weight on one hip. “And?”
“And,” he drew the word out. “You were sucking face with some babe.”
With a roll of his eyes, Devon went back to his amble across campus.
Rory skipped a step to catch up. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well, who was she?”
Devon stopped in place again. “Can’t say that’s any of your business.”
Rory held his hands up, palms outward, almost dropping his books in the process. “Sorry. Not stepping on your toes. What’s got into you today?”
He was failing creative writing, that’s what, and didn’t know what to do about it. Now, add to that Rory was annoying, and––
He frowned. Frankly, kissing the girl had been the highlight of his day.
What had possessed him to kiss her anyhow? Well, other than how tasty she looked. He pictured her again, lying flat in the grass, her bum, her beautiful, rounded bum sticking upward.
That’s what he’d seen first. And in comparing hers to other girls, hers was far superior. Hers was the kind you grabbed onto. Then she’d sat up and granted him a fleeting glimpse of some very nice breasts.
Truthfully, that was the sole reason, he’d approached. He’d simply had to talk to a girl shaped like that. But something about the foolishness they’d played had sucked him in. She’d laughed at his stupidity.
Ichabod and Penelope. He smirked.
He hadn’t decided to kiss her until seated on the bench. Then, having decided, he couldn’t back out. He had to know if there were sparks.
Sparks? More like fireworks. Best kiss he’d ever had in his life and that with a complete stranger.
“You gonna see her again?” Rory asked.
Devon halted in front of the doorway to the next building. “I kissed her. Didn’t I?”
Rory’s fat face split into a wide grin. “Yes, you did.”
He turned his back on Rory and shoved his way through the heavy metal door then down the long corridor toward the school library. Swinging inside, he glanced around the room and his gaze landed on a face seated on the far side. Brad Schmidt, long-time friend and fellow avid bicyclist.
Brad raised his hand and waved. “Man, I thought you were gonna bail on me.”
Descending into a chair, Devon gave a crooked smile. “Never.”
“‘Cause if you’re bailin’ then I’m failin’”
Devon shook his head and laughed. “Lame. Besides, you’d find me and hang me out to dry.”
“That I would.” Brad curved his fingers over the edge of his book and tilted his head. “Wait. You look different. No, don’t tell me. I’m gonna guess.”
Devon reclined in the chair, resting one arm on the table top.
Maggie called. No. That’s not it.” Brad tapped the tip of his pencil on his notebook. “She always calls. Think harder, Brad. Harder.”
Devon snatched the pencil to silence it, leaving Brad’s fingers aloft.
He flattened them to the table. “You got accepted in the bike race.”
“I didn’t apply for the bike race. I didn’t want to get my butt kicked.”
He held up his hand. “Don’t tell me yet, because I’m gonna figure it out.” Squinching his eyes, he pursed his lips. “You have a date.”
Devon’s mouth twitched.
“That’s it! You do have a date. Devon Walker has a date. Who? Spill!”
Reversing the pencil, Devon shoved it back in Brad’s hand and reached for the Algebra book.
“Really? You’re giving me the silent treatment? All these months I’ve been trying to set you up, and now you have a date, but you’re not going to tell me with who? Fine. I’ll guess again. Is it Lindsay?”
Devon flipped through the Algebra book to the page they’d left off on. “No.”
“You won’t guess, so quit trying, and you’re wasting study time anyhow.”
Brad laid a hand on the open book to cover it. “I don’t care. This is more important. At least, you can tell me if she’s hot.”
Devon focused his gaze on Brad’s face. “She’s hot, and a very good kisser.”
Brad’s eyes widened. “You kissed her already? So you’ve been out with her before?” He sounded offended.
“Yes, and no. In that order. Now, can we work?”
Brad slid his hand off the book and reached for his pencil. “Just promise me, you’ll hang onto this one and not freak like before.”
Devon sighed. “I am a freak, but I’ve reconciled myself to that.”
Brad shook his head and rearranged his things. “One of these days you’ll stop being so hard on yourself for something you had no control of.” He ran his finger down the page and across to the assignment.
Devon resisted the urge to pitch some sort of childish fit, instead exhaling slowly until he’d run out of breath. Brad was right, of course, but what he didn’t understand was how labeled it’d made him. And that was something he wanted no more of.

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

This Blog Has Moved

Same content. New address.   or  SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS, AUTHOR