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  • alyssaschwarzautho

Raise your hand if you enjoy running.


To be honest, I’ve never been much of a runner. Like a lot of people, I ran track in school. I have a very clear memory from one of my early track meets. We were on the bus heading into the mountains when my coach came over and asked if I’d step in for the 4x400 relay. I’d never done that length of relay before, but how hard could it be? Without a second thought, I agreed and promptly shifted my thoughts back to my other events.


Once at the school track, I went through my normal routine: high jump, long jump, triple jump (see a trend there? I was definitely more of a jumper than a runner). At the very end of the track meet, the announcer called the relay contestants to the starting line. Baton in hand, I waited until the whistle blew, and I raced ahead as if running down the long jump runway.


For anyone who didn’t do track, an entire lap around a football field is MUCH longer than a long jump sprint. Half way in, I looked back to see a large gap between me and the next runner, and that’s when the fatigue hit. Ask any runner, and they’ll say to watch your pacing. Otherwise, you’ll burn out too soon. I had never ran this race before, and it was all too evident in that moment that I’d chosen the wrong pace.


My legs began to cramp, my lungs were burning (did I mention we were in the mountains?). I wanted to quit, but that’s when I heard the excited cheers of my teammates. My body told me to slow down, take a breath and relax … but their encouragement was enough to redirect my focus. Even if we didn’t win, I’d finish my length of the race for the sake of my teammates.


Exhausted, I reached the starting line and handed off my baton to the next runner moments before I downed half a bottle of water and collapsed onto the grass.


Now raise your hand if you’ve ever worked toward a goal?


I think most everyone can relate to this one: get that promotion, buy that house, finish this degree, make it through the workweek until the weekend … We are constantly striving after goals, whether they be big or small, short-term or long. It’s amazing how much we mark our lives by reaching certain milestones, as if they are the medals we wear around our necks.


What are you racing toward?


Sometimes, the race seems smooth and uneventful, but other times, it can feel like we’re in over our heads. We’ve chosen the wrong pace for this race we find ourselves in, and the idea of continuing down this path sounds terrifying and exhausting. What then?


We shift our focus.


Not to the momentary discomfort, not to the growing to-do list or the hundreds of questions and worries around us. But to the author and perfecter of our faith.


Like when Jesus asks Peter to walk on water … When we focus on Him, He will lead us in ways unimaginable. To walk on water. But the moment Peter turns his focus toward the waves, he begins to sink because he’s already forgotten who he is walking with.


Is there an area of your life you are struggling to get through? Look toward Jesus. Are you in a season of doubt or worry? Look to Jesus. Are you pressing on toward that goal, and all your plans seem to be going as planned? Continue to look toward Jesus.


“...I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” —Philippians 3:12-14 (NIV)


“Let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.”

-Hebrews 12:1 (NIV)


The Glass Road (A Prescott Family Romance, #2)



Austin Wright had bigger dreams than to inherit his grandfather’s old property, but with the help of his nephew and a few volunteers, he decides to reopen the idyllic summer camp of his youth.


Following her accident at the first triathlon of the season, Tess Prescott’s dreams of the Olympics are shattered, and when her brother volunteers her to work at his friend’s summer camp, she is anything but pleased. Determined to make the best of a bad situation, and to keep herself busy while she recovers, she reluctantly agrees, and ultimately learns the joy of being part of a team.


In the heart of the Rocky Mountains, two people must learn to work together if they have any chance of making it through this season of change—even if it means sacrificing the dreams they once strove so hard to protect. But one unexpected secret could have the power to unravel it all.

Available October 11, 2022

  • alyssaschwarzautho

I love family traditions—the way they link present and past and bring people together. These unique little traditions can be tied to birthdays, anniversaries, holidays… Maybe your family decorates the house a certain way for Christmas, or maybe there was that desert your aunt always makes for family get-togethers. Whatever it may be, it is the love behind these practices that makes them so special.


There is one such family tradition I look forward to every year, and it’s the Loveland, CO valentine re-mailing program. Ever since I was a little girl, I remember receiving a Valentine’s Day card from my grandma with the iconic Loveland stamp in the top corner. She’d pick out every card, address it, and drop the sealed envelopes in a red box at the grocery store. From there, they’d be taken back to Loveland in early February, stamped, and sent off from there.


Every year, I’d wait for that letter and marvel over the unique stamp and the poem chosen to go along with it. Most of the time, they were cheesy and cute, but that only made me love them all the more. To this day, my mom and I still wait until February to send our Valentine’s Day letters up to Loveland to share the new love-inspired stamps with the rest of the family.

Now, this tradition goes back much farther than my grandma. In 1947, Elmer Ivers, the Postmaster of the Loveland Chamber of Commerce, received some interesting mail. Around February, he was sent a few dozen letters with a note to stamp them with Loveland’s postmark. Thinking it a grand idea, he rounded up the Loveland stamp club and began the letter re-mailing program, complete with its own cancellation stamp. Below is an example of one of the many poems that have been incorporated into the stamps over the decades:


Our sweetheart city has a magical way

To brighten up your valentine’s day

When you open your card it will reveal

The spirit of friendship and the love we all feel


After a shaky start, Elmer partnered with Ted Thompson, the owner of the Rialto Theater in town and the Chamber of Commerce, and they formally declared Loveland the Sweetheart City. Ted and his wife Mable, the real Sweetheart Couple of the city, breathed a new life into the program than had ever been seen. Now, over 75 years later, it’s as big an event as ever. Still going after all these years, the re-mailing program sees mail from over 110 countries (spanning from Denmark, to China, to Japan), employs 50 volunteers every year to sort and stamp all the letters, and there is even up to a ten-year wait-list to become a stamper.


So while I continue this tradition because of my grandma, I can feel a part of a larger tradition spanning the years of Colorado’s history. And thus, began the inspiration for my latest novella, Dear Beth, a sweet Valentine’s Day story set against the backdrop of this real-world Hallmark-ish Colorado town.


Dear Beth (A Prescott Family Romance, #0.5)


After finishing his veterinarian training, Tye Prescott is back in Colorado and ready to give his relationship with Beth another chance, only she's made it very clear she wants nothing to do with him.


Beth Walsh is a hopeless romantic, except when it comes to her own love life. In her opinion, love is best left to the storybooks. But when a few nosy octogenarians decide to play matchmaker, she grasps for the only excuse she can think of to avoid another set up.


Set against the backdrop of Loveland's historic Valentine's Day letter re-mailing program, Tye and Beth must work together to convince the town of their rekindled romance. But Tye has his own plans of winning back the woman who got away.


Might it finally be time for Beth to risk her heart again?

Available January 25th, 2022


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  • alyssaschwarzautho

Have you ever looked back at your life and wondered: How exactly did I get here? I know I have. No matter how much you plan, however many checklists and goal sheets you fill out, life seems to have a mind of its own.

When I was a kid, I would scour the house for all the half-empty notebooks and dream up poems and short stories that would never see the light of day. Words were my obsession, and I something inside of me urged me on, as if saying: Here is a passion I have given you. Cultivate it, for one day you will use it. Trust me.

Seven-year-old-me thought that meant I was supposed to go out and write the next best-selling book before I’d reached the second grade. So, like any reasonable person, I sought out my favorite foil-stamped notebook and got to work… An hour later… Nothing. No matter how much I stared at that page, the words wouldn’t come. But God, did You call me to do this? Did I hear You wrong?


Without any further strokes of genius, I set the notebook aside and went on with my life, assuming I had to find my true calling. When I was twelve, I went through that phase where every middle school girl wants to be a marine biologist. I thought it was a foolproof plan, aside from my innate fear of the ocean. But if that was where God wanted me, surely He’d make a way? But that wasn’t the plan either.

On and on this went, me trying to listen to God’s calling while trying to make my own plans. Marine biology turned into physical therapy, which shifted to physics. For each one, I laid out my checklists: degree + internship + job = happiness.

It was then, I felt that same stirring as when I was a kid, and I looked up to find the world of geology. For some unknown reason, the world of rocks, soil, and geological puzzles drew me like a moth to the flame. It had to be the hand of God, I thought to myself, right? And there, among the dirt and mountains, I felt like I had finally found my true calling. It all made sense. The creative brain God had given me came to life at the possibilities beneath our feet. My analytical side flourished while postulating scientific theories, and the writer inside me thrilled at the prospect of writing reports. This, finally, felt like the perfect fit. Confident I was on the same page as God, I planned out my path. First it was the undergrad followed by the Master’s degree, and then a job in the environmental industry stewarding this beautiful earth God had blessed us with.


What I’ve come to realize through all of this is that God’s greatest calling in our lives is to live within His presence. It is there, where we can hear and discern His voice, that He whispers to us words of life, direction, instruction, comfort… We get so caught up in making plans, that it’s all too easy to forget that it is not us who are in control.


“In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps.”

—Proverbs 16:9 (NIV)

This is what the main characters in my debut novel are forced to learn. Losing her dream job what not what Abigail planned, and moving back home to a sleepy mountain town and renovating her great aunt’s antiques shop definitely was an unexpected detour.

But as she sifts through the attic and stumbles across another mystery, she quickly realizes God was in control all along: in the tragedy of her past, the circumstances that got her to where she is today, and the future to which it will lead.

A wave does not know on which shore it will break, neither can we see the entirety of God’s story. Like a complex tapestry, only the master weaver can see what the image will become. But we can trust He is there beside us, waiting for us to trust Him and take each next step in faith.


“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the river, they will not sweep over you.” —Isaiah 43: 1-2 (NIV)



Blurb for The Glass Cottage


Could a nineteenth-century diary be the answer to Abigail’s prayers?


Iris wanted nothing more than to live her own adventure. But on the tails of the Colorado gold rush, a certain discovery could upend her world before it’s even begun.


Over a hundred years later, Abigail Prescott returns to the sleepy mountain town she once called home to help her great Aunt Josie restore the old antique shop, The Glass Cottage. Looking for peace and God’s direction for her life, the last thing she expected to encounter was a ghost from her past—Benjamin Greene—her childhood best friend. The boy who got away. Is this just a coincidence, or could it be the start of something greater?


Together, Ben and Abigail work to fix up the shop and stumble upon an old journal. With more questions than answers, Abigail embarks on a journey of self-discovery to track down the mysterious Iris, but the truth is not always what it seems.


In this tale of friendship, love lost, and love found, Abigail must decide for herself: Is every story worth saving, and if so, at what cost?



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