This is the premier edition of the I DEAL IN HOPE newsletter. As I do with the AUTHOR'S CHOICE REVIEW newsletter, this will be updated the first of each month. Links will tie it back to the I DEAL IN HOPE web site.

This is also my first crack at doing a cyber serial. Synopsis: Waking up in the hospital, she has no idea where she is, why she's there, what's happened...or who she is. Who is the gorgeous man who claims to be her husband? And, who is the midnight intruder? Begin reading this new mystery in this issue.

If you like what you see here, please let me know.

Blessings,

CRS

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AUTHOR: Books

I am so excited about my latest book HELP! IM A NEW MOTHER. Just received word that the bookstore chain Hastings Entertainment will be carrying the book in their stores.

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Articles/Poems/etc.

A Polemic on Self-Help Books

Author & owner of Book Ends book store, Kearney Nebraska

Self-help abounds on new-age shelves,

dreams and meditations -

They call an angels, herbs, and elves;

mental perturbations

We're told to dream and chant and sign,

our spirits thus to nourish;

We are assured, by strength of will,

we cannot fail to flourish

But still it seems to me quite clear

they miss the simple part;

The mind is fine, as is the will,

but I prefer the heart.

The gospel Word unto itself

will raise man to his calling.

Saint Paul appeals, but, truth be told,

I find Saint Peale appalling!

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SPEAKER

Looking for encouragement and inspiration? Look no further than time with one who has known, first hand, God's amazing grace. Using her own experiences as well as knowledge gained through a lifetime of growing through adventure and adversity, Scheidies bonds with the audience showing them how they, too, despite everything, can embrace life through hope.

TOPICS from NEW BOOK HELP! I'M A NEW MOTHER -

The Birth of a Book--as Well as A Baby (How and why the book came into existence.)

Help! I'm A Nervous Wreck! (Dealing with insecurity, fear, frustration and anger)

God! I Need to Talk to You (Finding time for faith.)

Mentoring New Moms

ALL topics include practical advice and helps.

Title: Preserving and Passing on Your Story. How to pass on family history.

Speaker brochure with all topics available as a free download at the web site.

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BLOG:

Since my book HELP! I'M A NEW MOTHER has been released in September, I've been busy with speaking engagements and signings. Not all go as planned. My sister Karin came for the signing at the Kearney Hastings Entertainment. Assist. Prof. Laura Sherwood also attended. Both were contributors to the book. We had a good time together, talked to several customers, got interviewed by both the UNK print and TV media, but sold very little. (Good media coverage though!)

Another contributor, JoAnn Wagner, planned to attend, but arrived after we were gone. She said she was having one of those days where everything goes wrong. The trip wasn't a complete failure for her though. She did get to spend time with her daughter and grandchildren in a town near Kearney.

Another signing that came up quickly didn't fare much better. I ended up with a corner of a display table rather out of the way and with no sign to announce the signing. (From now on I'll bring my own.) A store clerk, having no idea what I was doing, even asked me if I was finding what I was looking for. I did enjoy the friends, dropping by for the sale, who stopped to talk. I also found a book to read and one customer decided she'd buy the book for her husband for Christmas. Didn't sell my book, but that's the way it goes.

I spoke to the local Christian Women's Club on Preserving and Passing on Your Story, something very dear to my heart. Please leave the legacy of your story, your faith, in print for future generations. We lose so much when we lose the story of a family member.

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CYBER SERIAL:

WHO ARE YOU, MR. SMITH

(Romantic mystery)

CHAPTER ONE

It hurt to move. No, it was worse than that. Groaning, she tried to lift her arm. It felt like a ten-ton weight and weakly dropped back beside her. Again she tried as something slipped over her right eye. Ever so slowly, she inched her fingers up her arm to her shoulder, her face to the thick covering over her eyes. A bandage?

Her weak fingers ached, but she managed to push the offending covering from her eyes before her arm muscles refused to do her bidding further. Her arm plopped back onto the bed, rather like, she thought, a dead fish. The thought made her want to giggle. Strange, she felt light headed, dizzy, spacey even.... the way she imagined it felt to be on drugs.

No way! She didn't do drugs. Somehow she knew that. Groaning again, she opened her eyes, wincing at the pain inside her head. It felt like a hundred elephants tramped through her head. No, make that a thousand or so, she thought.

Where was she? Slowly, the young woman surveyed her surroundings, her eyes widening at the sterile beige walls, the soft light from a fixture over her bed, the movable stand beside the bed with a glass and a pitcher, tissue and a thermometer.

That was it. This was a hospital. It had all the signs, the bed with white sheets and blankets tucked in precisely so, beeping machines hooked up beside her, and to her, the murmur of voices, and the clank of metal on metal on the other side of the half closed door she supposed led to a hallway, other rooms, other patients, other beds.

Bed? The metal contraption brought back memories of a stay when she was ten for an emergency appendectomy. She wasn't ten. Of that she was certain as she glanced down her front where the covers arched over a nicely rounded slender body. Definitely NOT ten, not any more. Strange, she didn't recall growing up. She tried to concentrate, tried to think, tried to remember. Remember? No use. She couldn't remember how she got to the hospital.

In fact, she didnt recall much of anything, Her brow wrinkled as she struggled to recall the slightest detail. The whole thing seemed somewhat surrealistic... like a dream... a nightmare come to life.

Name would be nice, she muttered to herself. A name.... any name! Lets see, Ann, Amity, Barb, Betty.... Cynthia, Daryl.... Thats a guy's name. Why did that pop into my mind? Frowning, she listed all the names she could think of all the way down the alphabet. Sally, Sofia, Sara, Sandy.... Terri, Tamara... Zooti. Now she was getting ridiculous.

Still it bothered her that the only name that even rang a faint bell was Daryl. She tried it out in a deep voice. Daryl. Then higher, Daryl: She giggled hysterically. It didn't fit, didn't fit at all.

Beside her, machines beeped.

One, two, three, four, she giggled, what am I in here for?

Even as she spoke, a rather stout man in a long white coat pushed open the door to the small room and marched to the bed. The hair on his head had been combed from one side to the other in a vain attempt to hide the baldpate. The long hair hung down over his eyes as he leaned down with his stethoscope.

Doctor....

Jackson, he told her in a distinctly Canadian accent, checking her out with a quiet efficiency that belied his appearance. He asked all the usual questions: How do you feel? Can you move your arms and legs? Can you feel, did this or that hurt?

Of course it hurts! Was the man an idiot? Of course not, just a doctor, a doctor with sadistic tendencies, she groused to herself as he probed the wound on her head.

Ouch! She jerked away, and then yelped as pain shot up her arm. After a moment, she asked, Doctor Jackson, what happened to me? Why am I here? Where am I?

That stopped him. Silently he re-wrapped her head as though studying his answer.

Well, Doc. out with it. Where am I and what happened to me?

You're in Ontario, Canada, just across the border. You were in an accident. His eyes narrowed with concern. Don't you remember?

She shook her head, then groaned as the elephants thundered again. This time she made sure not to move her head as she looked at him. I don't remember anything. So what happened to me? Why am I here? Actually, just WHO am I?

At that moment, a tall, broad shouldered gorgeous man she guessed to be in his late twenties entered the room without knocking. Not that she cared. Her eyes widened as the magnificent specimen of manhood strode toward the bed. If the hospital supplied medics like this, she'd be in no hurry to leave. Then again, he didn't wear a white uniform.

Chocolate brown eyes surveyed her with a concern that seared every place his glance landed from her face all the way to her toes. If the dark eyed stranger didn't avert his gaze, she'd positively go up in flames.

She doesn't remember who she is, the doctor told him, his glance a warning she didn't understand.

Umm. The dark eyed stranger studied her a long moment before running the back of his hand down her soft cheek. So you don't remember me. Something about his tone started a bell of caution ringing in her mind, a faint memory she could not quite connect, a caution she had no trouble pushing away when he smiled that lopsided, slightly mocking smile that turned her insides to mush.

She itched to run her fingers through his thick dark locks that curled appealingly over the collar of his open-necked, rumpled shirt. Rumpled. She glanced down his length taking in his broad chest and well-muscled legs beneath his equally rumpled slacks. They looked liked he'd spent the night in them. Surely.... the thought made her breath catch in her chest. Could it be this handsome man was with her?

Whoa! Not her, not the awkward gawky girl of twelve who tripped over her own feet. Not the girl who was teased by her classmates. Concentrating, she tried to bring up something more, but it seemed like an eraser swiped away any further memories. Drat! Double drat!

No way could she forget him, not in a trillion years. Yet.... She grimaced. To her surprise, the young man gripped her hand. His husky voice flowed over her like a balm. Darling, how do you feel? Not waiting for her shock over his endearment to fade, he continued. I'm so sorry. If something happened to you.... The words trailed off leaving her more confused than ever.

Who was this man? Why couldn't she remember? One way or another, she was going to find out?

Next Month: Chapter Two

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RESOURCES & LINKS:

Want to build a web site, but don't want to sink a lot of money into it until you know your way around? Want a web site that won't have ads that embarrass you? Here are a couple of alternatives.

http://www.ourchurch.com Has both a free and paid package. In other words, you can use the free service, then, if you like, you can move on to the paid service with more space, perks, etc.

http://homewithgod.com Free, with lots of space.

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CLASSIFIEDS:

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FINAL NOTE

Thanksgiving is a time to think about the good things, the blessings of the past year. Even in the worst of times, there is hope. Make a list of your blessings, thank God for your blessings, and keep the list handy for those times that overwhelm and drag you down.

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

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