Instead of trying to find your perfect match in a dating app, we bring you the “Author-Reader Match” where we introduce you to authors as a reader you may fall in love with. It’s our great pleasure to present Jody Hedlund! Writes: Come Back to Me: Research scientist Marian Creighton, thinks her father’s quest to find the ultimate cure is crazy, even if it stems from a desire to save her sister Ellen from the genetic disease that stole their mother from them. When her father finds and drinks a vial of ancient holy water and falls into a coma, Marian discovers clues that suggest he’s crossed back in time. At first she thinks he’s insane, until she tests his theories and finds herself in the Middle Ages smack dab in the middle of the bloody Peasant Revolt of 1381. William Durham, a valiant knight comes to Marian’s rescue and offers her protection . . . as his wife. The longer Marian stays in the past, the more she cares about William. Can she ever find her father and make it back to the present to heal her sister? And when the time comes to leave, will she want to? About: Award-winning and best-selling author Jody…

TD sat in a sound booth at the recording studio in Clarkston with walls treated with what looked like egg cartons. He snapped his fingers in front of the long silver microphone with the word Neumann on it. The sound in the room was deader than a doornail. And that microphone looked like it cost more than his tow truck. In front of him sat a clear acrylic stand holding ad copy and he read it through silently. Butch Williams had car dealerships in three states and ran spots on stations in all of those markets. They were looking for an “authentic” voice that stood out. This was TD’s chance. A bearded man in the control room pushed a talkback button and spoke into TD’s headphones. “It’s Titus, right?” “I go by TD.” “All right, TD. Whenever you’re ready. I’m rolling.” TD rubbed his hands on his jeans. His tongue felt thick, his mouth full of cotton. The door opened in the control room and someone stepped in and stood in the dark corner. “If you’re looking for a deal on a new or used car, come see Butch. We’ve got dependable, affordable used cars that won’t break your budget….

MIRIAM’S SONG is a biblical novel – my newest release – about one of the Bible’s most famous yet little-known women – Moses’ sister, Miriam. I had to dig into her brothers’ lives to get to know her better, and what I learned about her life, and God’s holiness and longing for us as I studied her, inspired me. I hope it does the same for you. M – is for Miriam, whom we meet in childhood in Scripture. She is the little girl who watches her brother floating in a little ark in the Nile. Her family is hoping someone will save his life from the Pharaoh’s plot to kill boy babies. A complicated job for a girl of about five, but Miriam’s life as she grows older becomes even more complicated. I – is for Independent. Miriam is a strong woman and is later listed as one of three leaders who led the children of Israel out of Egypt. R – is for Ready. Miriam is more than ready to leave the land of Egypt and move to the Promised Land as God has intended for Israel. I – is for Israel. Miriam was one of three leaders…

She was being as silly as Laura. Dorothy frowned as she placed the hat on her head for what felt like the hundredth time, tilting it ever so slightly to the left. It wasn’t as if she were about to meet the president. All she was doing was going for a walk. There was no reason to fuss so much over her appearance. Today was the fourth day since Brandon Holloway had come to Mesquite Springs, and it seemed that both he and Laura had fallen into a routine. Each day Brandon came to Polly’s Place for his midday meal. Each day Laura kept peeking out the kitchen door, almost as if she didn’t trust Dorothy to tell her when he arrived. And when he did, she insisted on taking Brandon’s meal to him, returning to the kitchen with the same report: there was no question about it; he was the man she was meant to marry. Finally satisfied with the angle of the hat, Dorothy secured it with two of her prettiest hatpins, then descended the stairs. Once a quick look confirmed that nothing in the kitchen needed her attention, she opened the back door and stepped out into…

As I sat down to write my new novel, THE ORCHARD HOUSE, I couldn’t help but think about the inspiration behind it—Louisa May Alcott and her timeless classic, Little Women. Louisa captivated readers around the world with her seemingly simple domestic tale filled with honesty, complexity, and ultimately, joy in the messiness. But something else has us captivated. Or rather, someone else. Namely Jo March. When I was a girl, I wanted to be Jo. She was feisty, bold, but also incredibly caring and tenderhearted. She stood up for what she believed in and she was determined to be a writer one day (as was I!). In short, she was a tremendous and gigantic female character that readers fell in love with. But why is it that we appreciate strong female protagonists such as Jo March? Here are five reasons I think a gutsy female lead is likely to win us over: 1–We can relate to them in their shortcomings. Strong female characters aren’t perfect. Think of Jo’s struggle to control her temper. Katniss Everdeen’s rashness. Scarlett O’Hara’s lack of empathy. Sometimes, though, these flaws can be avenues to actually help them—either in their physical world or in their internal…

You know how gum adheres to the bottom of your sneaker on a hot summer day? You can’t shake your foot free or peel it off, at least not that easily. What you don’t remove gets pressed in between the grooves, becoming so enmeshed over time, it blends with the sole. That’s how my mama’s words stick to me. I remember how quickly my folks declared, “Nothing good happens after midnight” when I asked about changes to my curfew. Mama drove this point home one Friday night at a school dance when I was partying too hard to realize the time. Suddenly the music stopped and the deejay announced, “Robin, your mom is here to pick you up.” Trust me, not even Cinderella in her pumpkin could’ve caught me scooting out of that high school dance. But I didn’t run far from Mama’s words of wisdom. Just ask my own little people. When she says something, you’d best believe it, hold on to it, and apply it. So when she told me, “Robin, I’m not your friend,” I took that pronouncement to heart, just like an arrow to its target. Her words hurt for a time, more than any sticks…

1–What is the title of your latest release? Tidewater Bride 2–What is it about? A young woman who is the head matchmaker for a 1634 Virginia colony yet lacks her own match. Selah Hopewell is tasked with bringing ‘Tobacco Brides’ to the male-dominated New World but she never realizes by doing so she is arranging her own nuptials.  3–What do you love about the setting of your book?  Early Virginia is an explosion of all the things that make pages turn – a brave New World, handsome tobacco planters, treacherous politics, precious few women, ships, Indians, and the accompanying tumult that settling a new nation brings.  4–How did your main character(s) surprise you?  Sometimes they did things I wasn’t expecting, taking a scene in a direction I hadn’t thought of or anticipated. The mystery of creating! There’s even a bit of humor within.  5–Why will readers relate to your characters?  Their faults and foibles became very apparent to me. We all have them and characters should have them, too. Pride and false assumptions play a large part in this story, as troubling then as now.  6–What was one of your biggest challenges while writing this book (spoiler-free, of course!)?  Keeping…

Melanie’s heart quickened when the first tower of the Mackinac Bridge came into view. This would be her seventh time over the bridge, a significant number. Seven days of the week. Seven notes in the diatonic scale. Seven letters in the Roman numeral system. The seven in the Tarot deck was the card of the chariot—the symbol of overcoming conflict and moving forward in a positive direction. Lucky number seven. She’d need luck on this trip if she hoped to move forward in a positive direction with Olivia. She hit her sister’s upper arm with the back of her hand. “There’s the bridge!” To her surprise, Olivia smiled. A good sign. Maybe it would all work out. It had to. Because they couldn’t go on as they had for the past ten years. Something had to change. Only time together would do it. Time with no distractions. Time in the forest. Time for Melanie to explain herself. She had seven days to make it work. Seven days was enough. Her seven-day spiritual detox program was her most popular offering on Meditations with Melanie. And nothing needed detoxing like her relationship with her sister. “I know a bailiff who refuses to…

Hoping to escape the mother-­daughter conflict that was about to escalate to a new level, Emma hurried outside. Pausing on the snow-­covered path to the driveway, she allowed fat snowflakes to fall on her, even catching a couple with her tongue. Snow couldn’t hurt you. She looked all around, taking in the other large homes, beautifully blanketed in snow, and the mountains behind them. This place was truly magical! As she walked up the driveway, she spotted what looked like a caretaker’s cottage and slowly approached it. Hopefully the ol’ grump wasn’t as bad as Gillian had described. Holding her breath, she tentatively knocked on the door, expecting a gray, grisly old man to answer. To her surprise, a younger man opened the door. Dressed in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, he stared at her with a puzzled expression. She suddenly wondered if she’d knocked on the wrong door. She smiled stiffly. “Sorry to bother you. I—I was looking for the caretaker, and I thought this was the right—” “Yeah, yeah.” He studied her with a furrowed brow. “This is, uh, the caretaker’s cottage.” She blinked. “Oh, so . . . are you the caretaker?” For some reason this guy didn’t…

Damp air settled between the marlstone walls, its chill creeping into my bones as our group wandered reverently through the ancient mines. We stopped to read the old inscriptions, listen to the stories, and remember all that happened in these tunnels along the southern tip of The Netherlands. During World War II, these passages were used to hide artwork from the Dutch masters and as an escape route for Allied pilots and those escaping the Nazi occupiers. What would it have been like to be a Jewish woman down here, I wondered, trying to navigate the thousands of tunnels as she fled from a Nazi officer intent on finding her? What if, in order to save her life, she had to leave behind the boy she loved? My mind began to follow my feet in the wandering. Each of my novels builds block-upon-block on the foundation of an experience like this one. In those tunnels last year, I could feel the wetness of the marlstone walls on my hands and the coldness in my lungs. I could breathe the moist air and fight the weight of darkness as the walls pressed in. In the wandering of my mind, the breadth…