Sheila Seiler Lagrand's "Remember for Ruth" series deals with Alzheimer's Disease and touches the HEART!

June is the time to go Purple for "Alzheimer's and Brain Awareness Month"!

Here on the HHP blog we have tried to spotlight the Fiction and Non-Fiction written by the HHP Author Community.

Sheila Seiler Lagrand's series "Remembering for Ruth" is a Sweet Romance that revolves around a Family as they try to cope with Ruth's disease.

The series is filled with heart, triumph, trials and tribulation.

The first story in the series "Paul Loves Snickerdoodles" is a Kindle Unlimited title. Give it try, enter Ruth's World and be drawn in to the rich characters.

Below you will find the Amazon Kindle link to the first story,the story synopsis,a brief bio on the author, and the first Chapter of the story to sample.ENJOY!

Kindle Unlimited link: https://www.amazon.com/Remembering-Ruth-Paul-Loves-Snickerdoodles-ebook/dp/B00IK1TIHM/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1466626362&sr=8-5&keywords=sheila+seiler+lagrand

God gets the glory, but will Matthew get the girl?

Margot Goodharte and her mother-in-law, Ruth, plan to spend a rainy January morning baking snickerdoodles. A household accident leaves Margot unconscious on the pantry floor, while Ruth, who suffers from Alzheimer’s, mentally returns to her girlhood during World War II. Neighbor Sue comes to the rescue when she drops in for a visit and notices something amiss.

Confusion breaks out when Ruth tells a police officer responding to Sue’s call for an ambulance that her sister has been shot. Meanwhile, Margot’s husband, Paul, assumes that Ruth is the accident victim Sue calls him to report, so he calls his brother, Matthew, who is the black sheep of the family. Paul thinks perhaps his mother requires more care than his wife can provide for her. Brother Matthew doesn’t want his mother living in an institution—but he does want to learn more about neighbor Sue. Meanwhile, Mrs. Delsey wants to help, but frets over the pastor’s family’s good name. Or is it the historic parsonage she feels a need to defend?

Sheila Seiler Lagrand, Ph.D. is a lifelong Californian currently living in the rural foothills of Orange County with her husband, Rich, and two dogs. An anthropologist by training, she is fascinated by people’s relationships to one another and to God. Her latest releases include Kathi Macias’ Twelve Days of Christmas, Volume 8: Yankee Doodle Christmas and the collaborative novelette, The San Francisco Wedding Planner, Volume 1: The Initial Consultation. Her work has appeared recently in two volumes of Chicken Soup for the Soul and in Wounded Women of the Bible. You can find her blog, Godspotting with Sheila, at http://sheilalagrand.com.

“Cookies seem like a super idea, Ruth. What kind shall we make?”
“How about snickerdoodles? Those are Henry’s favorites.”
Margot blinked. “Paul loves snickerdoodles,” she said gently. Sometimes Ruth could remember that her husband had died, and sometimes she could not. Correcting her mother-in-law left Margot frustrated and Ruth flustered, so she had adopted the habit of substituting her own husband’s name whenever Ruth brought up Henry as if he were still alive.
Ruth sighed and looked out through the rain rivulets racing down the wavy glass in the old kitchen window. “It sure is gloomy out there this morning.”
“We need this rain, though,” Margot said. “And it does make good cookie-baking weather. I’ll preheat the oven. Can you pull out the cookie sheets?”
Ruth opened a cabinet and peered inside. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Goodness. What am I after?”
“Cookie sheets.”
“Thanks, Dear. I need a keeper.” Ruth chuckled and turned back to the cabinet, but not before Margot saw the terror in her gentle brown eyes.

Margot fitted a beater into her stand mixer as Ruth rummaged through the cabinet. A clatter told her that Ruth had found the cookie sheets. The smile on her face froze—but only for an instant— when she saw a frying pan and double-boiler insert resting on the old kitchen’s center island. She took a deep breath.
“Well now. Let’s cream the butter and sugar, shall we?” She lowered the beaters into the mixing bowl and turned on the power. The butter swirled in the bowl. Margot reached for the sugar canister. “Oh dear. We’re nearly out of sugar! No, wait. I think I have another bag of sugar in the pantry. Just a minute, hmm?” Margot didn’t dare send her mother-in-law into the pantry after the sugar; Ruth was having a bad day, clearly, if she confused a frying pan with a cookie sheet. She turned off the stand mixer and tugged open the door to the pantry. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get another bag of sugar.” Ruth nodded.
Margot reached up and tugged on the chain that hung from the old light fixture in the pantry. Spotting the familiar pink-and-white bag on a high shelf, she unfolded the stepladder that she kept in the pantry. The old house’s ten-foot ceilings are grand, but they sure make for some tough reaches in here, she mused. I should have set the ladder up just a bit farther to the right. Willing herself to reach the bag, she stretched as far as she could reach, then let out a gasp as she slipped off the rung. She was falling in slow motion, as if in a dream. It ended abruptly when she cracked her head on a sturdy shelf. She lay still and awkwardly splayed on the pantry’s elaborate tile floor, a pool of blood forming beneath her head.
Ruth started as she heard a crash coming from elsewhere in the house. That Henry, she thought. He’s always tinkering with something. She sat at the kitchen counter, pulling her knit cap down low over her ears. Now then, what was she waiting for? Oh, that’s right. Sugar. Her sister Merry had interrupted their cookie-baking—their brother Stephen and Merry’s beau loved snickerdoodles—to run next door to borrow sugar. Ruthie was petrified of the fierce-looking woman who had moved in next door, but her big sister Merry feared no one. She had taken her ration coupon booklet with her, Ruthie remembered. She hoped the neighbor would provide the sugar so they could continue their baking.
Ruth hummed a quiet tune as she waited. Finally, she dozed in her chair.
A firm knock at the kitchen door jolted Ruth from sleep. She stood, stretched, and walked to the kitchen door, which grumbled on its hinges as she pulled it open. “Why, Sue! What a nice surprise! Won’t you come in?” Ruth inhaled the crisp January air, saw sunlight picking its way through the remnants of clouds in the brittle blue sky. She sighed.
“Thanks, Miss Ruth.” Sue glanced around the kitchen. She noted the mixing bowl of butter, saw the flour and cream of tartar on the counter. “Where’s Margot?”
“Margot?” Ruth furrowed her brow. “Oh, she went to get something. We were going to . . . Going to . . . Anyway, she needed something. I’ve been waiting.”
“How long has she been gone?” Margot never left her mother-in-law home alone. Something was not right here.
Ruth pursed her lips and looked at the tin tiles making up the ceiling. “Sugar!” she finally cried out. “Merry went to get sugar!”
Sue had heard Ruth mix up names before. Ignoring the substitution, she repeated, “Ruth, what time did she leave?”
“It was raining,” Ruth said.
Sue swallowed back the fear she felt rising in her throat. The rain had stopped two hours earlier. Then she saw Margot’s keys hanging on their hook near the kitchen door.
“Ruth, are you sure she left the house? Margot?” Sue called out her friend’s name. “Margot?” She called out again, louder. She thought she heard a faint moan.