Yesterday, I uploaded my new novel as an ebook to Amazon. It is ready for you to pre-order, NOW! When you do, you will receive the ebook on its Launch Day, Tuesday, September 15. The paperbacks will be ready for purchase at that same time, too. I have ordered the proof copy and should have it within a week. On Launch day,  I hope to have a stack of paperbacks available. If not on that day, I'll have them very soon. You may buy them either from Amazon or from me. Of course,  I will gladly autograph the books I sell directly to you! (In fact, I'll sign the books you get online, too, if you bring them to me.)

   I hope and pray Expecting and Encountering the Messiah will have a favorable reception. Will you like it? Time will tell.

   
​   Several of you told me how much you liked my first teaser. Here's another one:
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​   Uncle Joseph hired a man named Joseph, of Nazareth, to make repairs on the upper room of our home in Sepphoris. When the man was working on the roof, I wanted to meet him.
   That day, my sister Salome and I had kicked the ball around with several neighboring children. We stopped when the sun was high. Sally continued to play with her friends, and I went home.
   The man worked hard on the roof, so I filled a pitcher with fresh water and grabbed a gourd dipper. I climbed to the roof by the stairs attached to the exterior wall of our house. With one hand supporting the water jug against my side and hip, managing the narrow stairs was a balancing act. I wore my everyday tunic and robe but had forgotten to cover my braided hair.
   The man was on one knee as he replaced a crumbling rock with a solid one. He had a tiny bit of gray hair on his temples and over his ears.
   Since he was working in the heat, he wore only a simple knee-length tunic with sleeves that reached his elbows. Through his tunic, the muscles of his arms and the power of his legs showed. I was embarrassed that I noticed his physical strength.
   He did not know I was there until I said, “Would you like some fresh water?”
   “I would love some fresh water.” He put down his trowel and stood up. He was tall. Taller than most Jewish men.
   He probably intended to simply nod at me and keep working, but he stared. I was embarrassed. I was not beautiful, but I was a pretty, slender young woman. My clothing was everyday wear with everyday sandals on my narrow feet. I had long, thick shiny hair in a single braid that went almost to my waist. He broke his trance and pulled on his sleeve to wipe sweat from his face.
   I dropped the dipper into the jug for water, then handed him the dipper, and he drank.
   “What is your name?” he asked.
   “I am Myriam, but some people call me Mary.”
  “Myriam is the perfect name for a beautiful young woman. Is Joseph your boss?”
   I shook my head.
   “Your father?”
   "No,” I answered. “He is my uncle and our family redeemer.”
   “Oh, forgive me—I mean—I did not know.” He stared at me again. I had thick eyebrows and eyelashes, but my nose was straight. My cheeks had dimples, and my lips were naturally pink. Neither needed anything to make them more noticeable, especially when I was embarrassed, like now.
   I was aware that he examined me, and I wished I had taken time to cover my hair.
   “I apologize for my mistake.” Now, he was the embarrassed one, which made me less nervous.
   “It is all right. My father died three years ago. I am thirteen, and my younger sister is ten.”
   He handed the dipper to me for another drink and straightened his clothes. His eyes roved over the roof until he located his robe, on the far side from us.
   I ducked my head as I handed the refilled dipper to him.
  “Hello, Myriam. I am Joseph, the older brother in our family. I have no sister, but I have a sister-in-law. She and my brother have young children. I do not know how many. The number keeps changing.”
   He has a good sense of humor. I smiled and brought my eyes upward. He had a smile that lit his eyes as if I had blown starlight into them. “Hello, Joseph.”
   “Does your uncle live in Sepphoris, too?”
   “No. Joseph lives in Arimathea, in a very large house with a very large family.”
   As soon as he handed the dipper back, I poured the remaining water into his smaller, almost empty jug. Then I turned to leave the roof.
    He softly said, “Thanks be to God for your kindness.”
   My face was flushed, and I could barely breathe. “May God bless you, Joseph.”
   “And you also, sweet Myriam.”
   I quickly glanced up at him to determine if he was mocking me, but he was not. He was genuinely kind, and I liked him.
   I turned my attention to managing the stairs and left him to his work.
   Later, all the words I wished I had said came to me. Something like “It is a pleasure to meet you, Joseph” or “I hope we meet again, Joseph.” But I had already said enough.
   I did not return to the upper room while he worked on the parapet. I only did what would be acceptable to the LORD and my mother. I waited.

Here is a teaser from the book:
   Before the sun rose the next morning, I left my small house with my satchel at my side, ready to walk to the synagogue. A five-year-old student waited for me near my yard. He shuffled his feet, with his head down and the frown of his lower lip hiding his upper lip.
“What has happened, Asher?”
   His tears fell freely on his already stained tunic while he tried to sniff mucus back into his nose. He wiped away the rest with his sleeve. “Our nanny goat is not giving milk. Please pray for her, Rabbi Buni. We need her milk. My father said if the nanny is dry, he will have to”—Asher struggled to hold back his tears—“butcher her.”
   “Oh, Asher! How old is your doe?”
   “She is much older than me. I have been drinking her milk since I was a baby.” His tears flowed freely as he admitted, “She is my best friend.” He leaned against me and sobbed.
   I patted the boy’s back with one hand. With my other hand, I rested my satchel on the short stone fence. Reaching into the satchel, I found a square of soft cloth. I handed the cloth to Asher, and he used it to wipe his eyes and nose.
   When Asher was more in control of himself, I asked, “Can your doe have more kids?”
   “No. My father said she is too old.”
   “Where does your family live?”
   The boy rubbed his nose and eyes some more and vaguely pointed to the edge of town. “On the ledge, this side of the big stone road.”
   Roads, built of stones several layers thick and angled for drainage, linked several important landmarks. One such road went from the southwestern coastal port of Ashkelon through the Valley of Elah about twelve miles from Bethlehem, then nine miles north to Jerusalem. Another significant road connected Ashkelon with the city of Hebron in the mountains south of us, down the valley nearest the ridge of Bethlehem, and uphill to Jerusalem. Asher was referring to the road from Hebron, which continued farther uphill through the Golden Gate of Jerusalem, and to the summit of Moriah, where the Holy Temple stood.
   “We have seven date palm trees,” the boy finished.
   I could find the right place since some of the date palms were visible from where I stood. Sitting beside my satchel on the fence, I moved my hand to Asher’s shoulder and prayed aloud for Asher’s family and their goat.
   When I stood, I patted the boy’s head. “Come on, Asher, walk to school with me.”
   He nodded his head, sniffed, and blew his nose. “I will walk with you, Rabbi.”
   After classes, I found Pharisee Choni gardening and asked for a moment of his time. “How much do you know about goats?”
   Choni dusted off his tunic and robe as he stood. “What does a Pharisee need to know about goats? I know there are plenty of them in the fields and pastures around here. Why do you ask, Buni?”
   “A young boy in my class has a nanny goat that no longer lactates. His father plans to butcher her. The lad is distraught and says the goat is his friend.”
   “Goats and sheep are part of the economy here. I am surprised the boy’s parents let him think of a goat as his pet.”
   “His mother was ill for a couple of years before she died. The boy is only five now. Perhaps the boy’s father allowed Asher to love the goat to help him deal with the loss of his mother.”
   “And now, Asher must deal with more loss.” Choni shook his head. “I will pray for him and his family. Perhaps the father needs to find a new wife, and Asher would love her more than the goat.”
   As I went home, I continued thinking of Asher and his family. Prayer is a commitment, the foundation of our faith, our first act, constant thought, and last resort. But perhaps I can help young Asher in another way, through action. I changed into an older tunic and robe and put on my well-worn but most comfortable sandals. Then I energetically set out to locate a goat herd in the pastures near Bethlehem.
   Many nearby shepherds kept watch over Temple sheep, but I needed to find a doe, a young female goat. The mountains were majestic, with green grasses, bushes, streams, and ample forests. The colorful flowers of Israel were plentiful and filled the air with sweet scents. The birds sang as if they were having a contest for which of them could make the most melodic song.
   I walked downhill and uphill for over two hours. My stride shortened and my pace slowed. I ceased to experience the beauty of nature and began to think my idea to help Asher was foolish.
Over the next hill and ahead in the valley grazed a herd of what might be sheep and goats mixed together. Finally, thank God. 
   Energized again, I went downhill to the stream, got on my knees, and cupped my hands to drink the fresh water. Nothing is sweeter than cool water from a gurgling stream. After drinking my fill, I stood and walked to the nearest herder and bowed politely. “Peace to you.”
   “And to you, Rabbi.” The herder leaned on his crook, a staff used to rescue sheep or goats, a necessity for herding. One of his hands rested easily on the crook’s curved top ...

Presently, it is getting its final edit. I have formatted the book size, font size, spacing, chapters, and organized the front and back matter. Next I will get the ISBN numbers for both the paperback and ebook. In the ebook, I will make links from the table of contents to the correct page or location within the ebook. I plan to record the audiobook as soon as possible, but I already know it will be a few more months before it is completed. 

I should have copies of the novel in time for the second New Frontiers in Writing Mini-Conference in Amarillo hosted by the Texas High Plains Writers, September 18 and 19, 2026. The Mini-Con is shaping up nicely and will begin with A Novel Affair Grown-up Book Fair on Friday, September 18, 5 pm – 8 pm. The conference will continue on Saturday, September 19, 8 am – 5 pm, at the Arts in the Sunset Center, 3701 Plains Blvd, Amarillo. Please visit https://newfrontiersinwriting.com/ for more information, and a link to register today. Our speaker lineup includes Mike Akins, Aubrey Green, R.J. Hanson, Shannon Iwanski, Williamaye Jones, B.J. Sloan, Rick Treon, and Pat Tyrer. Use the code "New Frontiers in Writing" at the Holiday Inn Express & Suites Amarillo for conference rates. 
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As Rabbi Buni often says at the end of his prayers, "With faith and trust."

May God bless you,
Betty