<img src="Homepage.png" alt="Leigh Lincoln and her inspirational, Christian novels Road Home, Road to Freedom, Finding the Real Road and The Road West">
  Leigh Lincoln author of the Broken Road Series

You came here looking for your next great read, right? Hi, I’m Leigh and I’m the author of the Broken Road Series. My inspirational, edgy Christian novels will lead you on a heartfelt journey as you follow each character along life’s broken road. Part of the proceeds go to charities serving people experiencing homelessness.

Click here to learn more about Broken Roads: Road Home, Road to Freedom, Finding the Real Road, and The Road West

Don’t forget you can buy an autographed paperback or the audiobook right from this website.

The first and second chapter of Road Home is available on YouTube and the first and second chapter of Finding the Real Road as well. 

I send a newsletter out about once a month, a little note about what’s happening with me or my writing. To subscribe, click here to sign up. I’ll send you a short story exclusively for those who join.


The Impossible American Dream!

I have a video series about owning a home mortgage-free and avoiding being house poor click here to sign up to watch this special three-part series!

If you wish to have help along the journey click here to book a coaching session!

Events This Fall:

Pratter’s Mill, Dalton, GA – October, 14th and 15th

Southern Festival of Books, Nashville, TN – October, 21st and 22nd

If you are in the area of either of these, please stop by and say ‘hi’! 



I love being interviewed on podcasts. And occasionally I get to be on other platforms. Here’s my latest interview on The Travel Transformation Podcast with Jessica Grace Coleman!


Click here to check out my blog!

Click here to check out a few edgy Christian books!


Curious about what I’m working on?

Okay, here’s an excerpt from my next inspirational Christian novel. If all goes as planned, it’ll be published on National Adoption Day – November 18th, 2023. Keep an eye out for the announcement on this page for when you can get your hands on a copy!

Lost Father

Chapter 1

Colorado – present day

“Hey, you going to drink that? Or are you going to continue hugging that beer mug like it’s your new best friend?” A voice broke the quiet stillness that had enveloped me since I’d been handed my libation. Not a particularly deep one, but it sounded a bit on the raspy side. Either he hadn’t slept in a while or he smoked.

Not like I cared one way or the other.

As my mind raced to form some type of response, I reflected on how swiftly my life had changed on how my whole life had turned upside down in the blink of an eye. With no warning, no way to know what lay around the corner. Yesterday, life had been normal, safe, secure. Everything followed the same pattern and routine as always. We’re old, my wife Nancy and I; not much of life left to live anymore. No room for anything special to happen. And this was my first mistake—thinking you hit a certain age and you become immune to problems.

I debated whether I should ignore this interruption into my deep funk. Just continue to sit here and wallow in my pity party of one. Or if I should dig deep and find some half-assed answer to give. One that would shut down any and all future questions from the jokester behind the bar.

In the end, I squinted up at the man who’d dared to intrude on my dark musings. I hadn’t given him more than a passing glance when I’d planted myself on this rock-hard, unsteady stool. Heck, I hadn’t taken in the room when I’d entered beyond the fact the bar remained empty on this cold, wet, dreary afternoon. To be honest, both the weather and the silence suited my current mood perfectly.

No, after hauling my sorry ass inside I’d managed to do almost nothing. What with my heart having been torn out as it had, my soul left in shreds. Leaning my elbows on the edge of the rough wood, I rested my head on my hands as I did so. Squeaking out a simple request for a cold one, I stared with blank eyes at the wavy grain embedded in the wood. This dark counter I’d happened to find myself propped against remained sturdy under me. Solid enough to hold me up since I’d become incapable of doing that on my own.

Didn’t matter the brand of beer the man might hand me. Didn’t matter if the beverage might be ice cold or tepid. The only important thing had been to make sure I paid the price of admission. I hadn’t wanted to end up getting the bum’s rush and thus be forced to drive somewhere else. My body in its current state couldn’t handle that. Do believe even moving to a different seat in this bar might have been beyond me at that particular juncture. My very bones had melted inside me, leaving me a puddle of mush.

The person standing before me wasn’t what I expected. The bartender appeared to be in his late twenties, early thirties. His face sported the scruff of a beard not quite shaved but not quite grown in either. The vibe his disheveled sandy blonde hair gave off matched his not-quite-clean-half-apron. The former white linen now dull, spotted with grease, grime, and goodness knew what. The strings of which he’d tied at his right hip in a loose knot rather than a bow.

Rather obvious the man didn’t care one iota how he looked. Not to mention the fact he wore a bright orange T-shirt with a bleach spot shaped like the face of a lion on one shoulder. And as if to add further abuse to those who might look his way, the front of it bore an insult. Yep, a large green neon hand gave the middle finger to the world and shone bright in the middle of his shirt. Not sure if that was the best thing for someone in the hospitality industry to be wearing. But right at this moment I sure wished I had one to wear as well. I wanted to tell everyone and their mother to take a flying leap into nowhere and leave me the frick alone. I didn’t want to explain myself or my rather poor choices in my very long, irresponsible life to anyone.

However, given what had happened this morning, today, or at the very least, someday very soon, I’d have to. In the meantime, I’d found myself somewhere I shouldn’t have been. Once again I’d found myself being my true self, the reckless, do whatever the heck I want to self. And right at this second, what I wanted to do was get plastered. I’m a man who tends to have one drink, then another, and then never stops. And drinking was yet another of those oh, so many things I shouldn’t be doing. 

Hey, it’s five o’clock somewhere, right?