Just One More Paragraph

#TheCrownVirtualBookTour "The Crown" by Nancy Bilyeau

2012-02-10T00:30:00.000-05:00

The Crown
Author: Nancy Bilyeau
Publisher: Touchstone, January 2012
ISBN: 9781451626858
Genre: fiction, historical fiction

About the Book:

An aristocratic young nun must find a legendary crown in order to save her father—and preserve the Catholic faith from Cromwell’s ruthless terror. The year is 1537. . .

Joanna Stafford, a Dominican nun, learns that her favorite cousin has been condemned by Henry VIII to be burned at the stake. Defying the sacred rule of enclosure, Joanna leaves the priory to stand at her cousin’s side. Arrested for interfering with the king’s justice, Joanna, along with her father, is sent to the Tower of London.

The ruthless Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, takes terrifying steps to force Joanna to agree to spy for him: to save her father’s life she must find an ancient relic—a crown so powerful, it may hold the ability to end the Reformation. Accompanied by two monks, Joanna returns home to Dartford Priory and searches in secret for this long-lost piece of history worn by the Saxon King Athelstan in 937 during the historic battle that first united Britain.

But Dartford Priory has become a dangerous place, and when more than one dead body is uncovered, Joanna departs with a sensitive young monk, Brother Edmund, to search elsewhere for the legendary crown. From royal castles with tapestry-filled rooms to Stonehenge to Malmesbury Abbey, the final resting place of King Athelstan, Joanna and Brother Edmund must hurry to find the crown if they want to keep Joanna’s father alive. At Malmesbury, secrets of the crown are revealed that bring to light the fates of the Black Prince, Richard the Lionhearted, and Katherine of Aragon’s first husband, Arthur. The crown’s intensity and strength are beyond the earthly realm and it must not fall into the wrong hands.

With Cromwell’s troops threatening to shutter her priory, bright and bold Joanna must now decide who she can trust with the secret of the crown so that she may save herself, her family, and her sacred way of life. This provocative story melds heart-stopping suspense with historical detail and brings to life the poignant dramas of women and men at a fascinating and critical moment in England’s past.

My Thoughts:

Nancy Bilyeau does a marvelous job of recreating the time of Henry VIII and bringing it to life through the eyes of Joanna Stafford, a novice at the Dartford Priory. Told in first person, one really can get a sense of how much turmoil and danger was present under his rule.

Joanna comes from royal roots and her connection with Katherine of Aragon puts her in a precarious position leading to her capture and being force into a situation that will keep the reader turning the pages and on the edge of their seat, anxious to see how things turn out. She is a strong character, seeming unlikely for the submissive role of a nun, but it works well and comes over natural and realistic for Joanna.

This is an exceptional piece of historical fiction that captures the essence of a young woman who is torn between saving her father and her conscience. It transports one back to hear the sights, sounds, smells and emotions - creating a true piece of living history. Riddled with suspense, there were more times than I can count that I had to remind myself to breathe!

Nancy Bilyeau has captured my attention with this novel, and has made both my favorite authors list and favorite novels list. I am anxious to see where Joanna will go after this novel and cannot wait to get my hands on Nancy's next book!

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!

About the Author:

Nancy Bilyeau is a writer and magazine editor who has worked on the staffs of InStyle, Rolling Stone, Entertainment Weekly, and Good Housekeeping. She lives in New York City with her husband and two children. Visit her website www.nancybilyeau.com, friend/like her on Facebook, and follow her on Twitter.

Make sure to visit the other blogs on The Historical Fiction Virtual Blog Tour to see what others have to say about "The Crown"

I received an e-copy of "The Crown" to read and honestly review for this tour.

Interview with Bill Giovannetti

2012-02-09T12:13:00.000-05:00

Bill Giovannetti serves on the faculty of A.W. Tozer Seminary and is the Senior Pastor of Neighborhood Church of Redding. Four Letter Words is his second book. He has written numerous articles and is a popular speaker. Bill hates legalism, loves grace, and teaches that God is infinitely more committed to us than we will ever be to him. He is a graduate of Trinity Seminary and earned his doctorate at Fuller Theological Seminary.

What's Four Letter Words about, and where did you get the title?

Four Letter Words is about defending your faith in Christ. If you've ever felt tongue-tied standing up for Jesus, this book can help.

Even though our culture claims tolerance as a virtue, that tolerance stops at Christianity's front door: witness the hostility directed toward a sincere Christ-follower like Tim Tebow. Judging by reactions to him, you'd think he just cussed out his grandma when all he did was say a word for Christ. Speaking God's truth and living your faith is quickly becoming today's profanity. Tougher days are coming; we need to get ready.
There has never been a truth-system more satisfying, consistent, logical and beautiful than Christianity. I wanted to help God's people rise up and say so.

What four letter words do you write about?
True: who says your truth has to be my truth too? Know: how do you know God is real? Pain, Evil, and Ouch: why doesn't God stop the bad stuff? Damn: how can a loving God send people to hell? Word: What makes the Bible so special? Wait: isn't it unreasonable to expect today's people to live by biblical standards of sexuality? Hope: what good has Christianity done in the world?
The book has ten chapters, discussion questions (in the book and downloadable from the website), and 208 pages.

Did you ever struggle with your faith? How did you work through that?
Even though I've been a pastor for a long time, I struggle with my faith a lot. My earliest struggles – back in high school days – centered on scientific stuff, like evolution. In the book I tell the story of how I made peace with faith in a Creator God and how I fit together science, logic, and the gospel in my own heart.
Now that I'm a bit older, my struggles come more out of pain and suffering. Why does God let people hurt? I cover those topics too.
Struggles are normal – we just can't let them overwhelm our faith or uproot our joy. It's super-important for us to know every question raised against Christianity has an answer. I try to provide some of those answers along with simple talking points for everyday conversations.

Who is this book for?
This book is for anyone who either struggles with faith or who wants to help friends who struggle with faith. I wrote to strengthen faith and equip believers to share faith. Our church has used this book with high school students, young adults, and senior citizens—it's been really well received across all age groups. Other churches are using it in small groups and youth groups.
I would love to see this book in the hands of every high school graduate and new college student: they need to be inoculated from the anti-Christian venom they're going to experience.
Toward the end, Four Letter Words invites readers to faith in Christ so it can be resource for evangelism too.
Discussion questions are included.

What's with the QR codes?
Part of my geek credentials, I suppose. As far as I know, Four Letter Words is the first QR-enabled book for the general market. QR codes are those postage-stamp sized boxes with indecipherable patterns inside – Quick Response codes. I wanted to make the book an interactive experience: just scan the codes with any smartphone and you'll go straight to relevant videos, audio .mp3's, and websites. Each chapter has a lot more resources on the website (www.fourletterwords.org) which you can reach either through the QR code or just by visiting the site. The geek-tech stuff in no way overwhelms the written word; it just supplements it. I hope readers like it. What did you think?

If I read this book, what will get out of it?
I wrote Four Letter Words with three simple goals in mind:
1. Clarity: Know what you believe.
2. Confidence: Know why you believe.
3. Courage: Know what to say when you don't know what to say.

So what do you do when you're not writing?
I'm the husband of one incredible wife and dad to two amazing kids. My main calling is as a pastor to the Neighborhood Church of Redding, a small-town church of over 2,000 set amid the snow-capped peaks and pristine lakes of northern California. I love preaching and teaching—spreading out a rich feast of God and his grace and digging deep into God's Word. I also serve on the faculties of A.W. Tozer Theological Seminary and Simpson University. I like watching mindless action movies, reading, hanging with friends, bass fishing, woodworking, good coffee, and Chicago sports teams. Go Bears!
Italian food is my love language.

Do you have any other books around?
My earlier book helps readers get a grip on their inner mess. If you read it, you'll meet your Inner Thug, Inner Brat, Inner Legalist, and the rest of the motley crew lurking in your soul. It's called How to Keep Your Inner Mess from Trashing Your Outer World (Monarch/Kregel, 2009). I have a couple more books in the pipeline, including a fiction book on the global political scene.

What's your spiritual background? How did you get started with Jesus?
I was reared in a tiny Chicago gospel church. I was loved. I was cared for. I was taught the Bible. That church was my second family. They introduced me to Jesus. I received him when I was young and devoted my life to him. But it wasn't until young adulthood that I began to appreciate how much Jesus was devoted to me. That discovery rocked my world. I shifted from rules to relationship and from guilt to grace. I dedicated my life to encourage instead of tear down. I strive to free others from guilt, shame, and legalism, and to help people discover life and love through God's amazing grace.

How did you pick the four letter words for each chapter?
I had a great team working with me to pick the topics. The young adult leadership team from my church hung out with me for a few coffee-shop meetings. We brainstormed ideas. We asked what questions kept surfacing in their relationships with seekers and what issues kept tripping up their conversations about Christ. The topics came from them. Each chapter grew out of the real-life struggles of real people in my church. I think this is why the book has connected in some pretty deep ways with readers.

Would you say that Christians are persecuted?
Not so much in the U.S., but persecution is definitely coming. It's not that Christians are changing; it's that culture is running from God so fast that yesterday's normal is becoming today's weird. Christians will be increasingly marginalized. Tell a typical college student he needs to be celibate till marriage and he'll look at you like you're Amish. Why don't you hop in your buggy and trot along. A generation ago, our culture would have supported that value. Today, culture attacks it. It's going to get tougher to stay strong for Jesus.
We need a new breed of Christ-follower: alert to the beliefs that tick people off, and ready to fire the weapons of truth and grace with courage, compassion, humor, and love.

There are so many books on the gospel message, do we really need another one?
Thank God for a lot of excellent books out there to defend your faith. Four Letter Words stands out because it is written for the everyday Christian. You won't need advanced degrees to understand its message. I wanted to go deep, but keep it really clear. I also made sure to include "Talking Points" after each chapter. That's where I pull the chapter's themes into a handful of memorable and repeatable truths. These take-aways can help you engage your friends in solid conversations about Christ. While many other apologetics books focus on a single topic, Four Letter Words deals with common topics that often make the average Christian feel tongue-tied. Consider it your one-stop shop for equipping in apologetics.

FUN QUESTIONS

If aliens landed in front of you and, in exchange for anything you desire, offered you any position on their planet, what would you want?
Definitely the Minister of Space Exploration. I dig science fiction and it's my secret dream to pilot an alien spacecraft through a wormhole into another dimension. I want to boldly go where no one has gone before. Plus it would be cool to see first hand how Jesus gets glorified on the far side of Jupiter and to hit a baseball on Pluto and see how far it goes. As Minister of Technology, I'd restore Pluto's status to that of planet instead of asteroid; I feel sorry for the little guy.

If you could be a superhero, what would you want your superpowers to be?
There's this guy on the TV show Alphas named Gary Bell who can literally see the entire electromagnetic spectrum: radio waves, phone texts, television signals, digital transmissions, and the Internet. He sees it in the air around him. I want that. Is that enough to renew my geek-card?

Name one movie you consider wildly under-appreciated.
That's easy: Tremors. Yes, the one with Kevin Bacon fighting giant worms that eat people. Creepy comedic genius. My wife loves it so much she rolls her eyes and leaves the room every time I turn it on.

Amazon: http://amzn.to/tF3L3M
Direct from the Author (signed copies) http://maxgrace.1freecart.com
Website: http://www.fourletterwords.org
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/BillGiovannetti
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/billgiovannetti
Blog: http://www.maxgrace.com

BILL IS HAVING A GIVEAWAY!!!

Bill is celebrating the new Kindle edition of Four Letter Words (for only $4.99)! He’ll be traveling coast to coast over the next few weeks on this virtual book tour and he's celebrating by hosting a great giveaway!

Click here to find out how you can win two gift certificates to Amazon (in the amount of $50 and $25) and free downloads of his yet-to-be-released title, Recession-Proof: Living a God-Blessed Life in a Messed Up World.

Get "The whole scoop" here: http://fourletterwords.org/2012/01/contest-giveaway/

Make sure to visit others on the Blog Tour to see what they have to say about Four Letter Words.

The Turning of Anne Merrick by Christine Blevins #TurningofAnneMerrickVirtualTour

2012-02-08T00:30:00.000-05:00

The Turning of Anne Merrick
Author: Christine Blevins
Publisher: Berkley Trade
Paperback: 448 pages
ISBN: 9780425236796
Genre: fiction, historical fiction

About the Book:

A tale of love and espionage from the author of Midwife of the Blue Ridge...

She spies for General Washington, betrays the Redcoats and battles for America's independence...

It's 1777, and a fledgling country wages an almost hopeless struggle against the might of the British Empire. Brought together by a fateful kiss, Anne Merrick and Jack Hampton are devoted to each other and to their Patriot cause. As part of Washington's daring network of spies, they are ready and willing to pay even the ultimate price for freedom.

From battlefields raging along the Hudson, to the desperate winter encampment at Valley Forge and through the dangerous intrigue of British-occupied Philadelphia, Anne and Jack brave the trials of separation, the ravages of war and an unyielding enemy growing ever more ruthless.

For love and for country, all is put at risk-and together the pair must call upon their every ounce of courage and cunning in order to survive.

My Thoughts:

"The Turning of Anne Merrick" is the second book in Christine Blevin's trilogy about the American Revolution. This book can be read as a stand alone, but I would highly recommend that "The Tory Widow" be read first, since this is the story of Anne, how she met Jack and how she came to be the woman she is in the second book. "The Turning of Anne Merrick" picks up right where the first book left off.

Anne is an amazingly strong woman who knows exactly what has to be done, and does what is needed - even when it is difficult. She is a character I have grown very fond (as well as Jack). Anne is one tough lady when she needs to be, and her character has certainly shed much light on the important roles women played during the Revolution.

Christine has brought American history to life through the lives of her characters. She creates realistic and descriptive scenes and transports the reader back to the world of war and the great burning desire for freedom. The reader cannot help but get involved in the action and feel the heart-stopping danger that lurks between the pages.

This series is well written and appears to be very well researched. I have been captivated by Jack and Anne and cannot wait to read the last book in the trilogy. These characters have become "friends", and I really want to see where there story goes from here.

About the Author:

Author Christine Blevins writes what she loves to read – historical adventure stories. The Turning of Anne Merrick is Christine's third novel, and the second in a three-book series set during the American Revolution and War of Independence. A native Chicagoan, Christine lives in Elmhurst, Illinois along with her best friend and husband Brian, and The Dude, their very silly golden-doodle. She is at work finishing her next book inspired by a lifelong fascination with the foundations of American history and the revolutionary spirit.

For more information on Christine Blevins and her novels, please visit her WEBSITE. You can also find Christine on Facebook and Twitter: @Author_CBlevins

Make sure to visit the other blogs that are part of Christine's Tour and see what they have to say about "The Turning of Anne Merrick". You can view the full schedule here.

Books were supplied by the author to read and honestly review for this tour.

An Amish Family Reunion by Mary Ellis

2012-02-07T07:48:00.000-05:00

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Mary Ellis

and the book:

An Amish Family Reunion

Harvest House Publishers (February 1, 2012)

***Special thanks toKarri James of Harvest House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Mary Ellis is the author of A Widow's Hope, Never Far from Home, The Way to a Man's Heart, and Sarah's Christmas Miracle. She and her husband live in central Ohio, where they try to live a simpler style of life.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

During rumschpringe, Phoebe Miller meets Eli Riehl, who charms her with his exceptional storytelling ability. When he sees her sketches of his tales, Eli encourages her incredible talent, and they decide to write and illustrate a children’s book. But can their love for a good story develop into something that lasts forever?

Product Details:
List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (February 1, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0736944877
ISBN-13: 978-0736944878

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

^{Winesburg, Ohio}

You would think that a person might be able to enjoy some peace and quiet on a Sunday afternoon. After all, it was the Sabbath—a day of rest. Yet Phoebe Miller found herself hiding behind a tree to escape from her family. There were just so many of them. Living next door to Aunt Julia and Uncle Simon guaranteed plenty of drop-in visits, impromptu potluck suppers, and more unsolicited advice than any seventeen-year-old girl needed. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her family, because she certainly did. She simply needed more alone time than most people.

Holding her breath, Phoebe stood stock-still until Uncle Simon headed into the barn in search of her father and Aunt Julia entered the house looking for her mamm. Hannah wasn’t her mother by blood, but she had earned the title during the past twelve years of bandaging scrapes, helping with math homework, and remaining near while Phoebe suffered with the flu on long winter nights. She couldn’t remember her birth mother anymore. She had been only five when an impatient driver in a fast-moving truck decided to pass on a blind curve. It didn’t hurt much anymore. She had Hannah, her daed, and her little brother to love. They were all she needed…except, perhaps, for a little personal solitude.

Phoebe sucked in her gut as ten-year-old Ben ran across the yard, chasing his dog, who was chasing a rubber ball. When the two ducked under a fence into the cornfield, she ran pell-mell in the opposite direction, clutching her box of pencils and sketch pad tightly. She dared not look back for fear some cousin would be waving frantically from the porch. This time she didn’t stop to watch baby lambs nursing from their mothers or to pick a fistful of wild trilliums for her windowsill. On through the sheep pasture she ran until she reached her favorite drawing spot—an ancient stone wall constructed by long ago pioneers of Holmes County. Phoebe doubted these early settlers had been Amish. Not too many Amish men would take the time to painstakingly stack flat rocks just so to form a long fence line, not when dozens of tall trees fell over in the woods each winter that could easily be split into fence rails. And not when stampeding cows spooked by thunder, or marauding sheep needing no reason whatsoever to bolt, could knock the entire wall down within minutes. That was probably why this twenty-yard section was all that remained. But it was all Phoebe needed.

Settling comfortably on a smooth flat stone, she gazed over acres of rolling pasture, lush with thick clover and alive with honeybees and hummingbirds attracted to morning glories. Those climbing vines would entwine her if she sat too long. Beyond this pasture, where mamm’s beloved sheep frolicked and capered like small children, lay alfalfa and cornfields, peach and apple orchards, and stately pines in the distance. Like sentinels, they guarded the property line between their farm and the westerly neighbor, while a pond and lowland bog separated them from Uncle Simon and Aunt Julia to the east.

Phoebe turned to a fresh page in her oversized tablet and selected a charcoal pencil from the box. What would she draw today? Horses nibbling on fresh green grass? Sunlight glinting off dewy treetops at dawn, while the rest of the land remained cloaked in darkness? It was well past midday, but Phoebe had witnessed the dawn enough times to remember what it looked like. Maybe their three-story bank barn with open hayloft doors against a stark backdrop of pristine, unbroken snow? Everyone loved the serenity that could be found within a winter landscape. It didn’t matter that it was May—and an exceptionally warm day at that. A good artist worth her salt possessed a memory capable of retaining visual imagery until the moment she re-created those images on canvas…or in her case, on a sheet of white paper.

“I thought I would find you up here.”

Phoebe practically jumped out of her skin, dropping her sketch pad and spilling her box of colored pencils, charcoals, pastel chalk, and various erasers and sharpeners. “Dad! You nearly gave me a heart attack.” She fell to her knees to retrieve her supplies.

Seth Miller brushed off a spot on the wall and sat down. “You’re too young for a heart attack. And I wasn’t sneaking up on you. I came up the same path along the same fence that you took. You were too absorbed in your masterpiece to see me.”

With her supplies safely returned to the box, she plunked down next to him, clutching the tablet like a shield.

“Nothing is even started yet. I was waiting for the perfect inspiration.” She giggled, knowing how full-blown that sounded.

“Plenty of pretty scenery up here to pick from. It would be hard to narrow it down to just one thing.” Seth bumped his shoulder into hers.

Phoebe sighed. “Jah, but nothing I haven’t sketched a hundred times before.”

Seth shifted his position on the wall to offer his profile. “How about me? Or am I too old and wrinkled?”

She shook her head. “You’re not old, daed, even if you do have some serious crow’s feet.” She bumped his shoulder in return. “But once Uncle Simon caught me doing a portrait of cousin Emma and he scolded me. He said drawing a picture of an Amish person was no different than capturing their likeness with a camera.” Phoebe then lapsed into mimicking Uncle Simon’s stern voice, forgetting the person she was talking to for the moment: “ ‘As a deacon of this district, I won’t have my niece and my daughter committing such a sin.’ ”

Her father merely shrugged. “In that case, you could draw our old buggy horse. Now that he’s been turned out to pasture, we no longer have to worry about capturing his image.”

“I think I’ll stick to wildflowers today.” With her piece of charcoal, she pointed at clumps of purple violets, green mayapples, and elusive jack-in-the-pulpits. “Sam usually has too many flies buzzing around his head to contend with.”

Seth stretched out his long legs. “I saw you hiding from your bruder behind that tree. Has he been pestering you? Is that why you didn’t want him to follow you?” He shielded his face from the sun, deepening the wrinkles webbing his eyes.

“Oh, no. Ben’s been all right. It’s just that he’s ten years old. He doesn’t understand the concept of sitting still or remaining quiet. If I let him come with me down to the river or to the duck pond, he expects me to catch tadpoles or butterflies with him. Once he dropped a two-foot black snake at my feet and told me to draw him.” Phoebe met her father’s gaze. “I let him come along as seldom as possible without hurting his feelings.”

“Mind if I have a look-see?” Without waiting for her answer, Seth pulled the giant pad from her grasp.

For a moment Phoebe felt a familiar wave of panic. Her art was a private collection, showcasing her limited abilities. But the moment quickly passed. She was Phoebe Miller of Winesburg, Ohio, not Michelangelo of Italy. “Sure, why not?” she said, willing herself to relax.

Seth paged through her assortment of sketches, some barely begun and others filled with vibrant color and intricate shading. “These are quite good, daughter.” He paused to study a picture of a small child kneeling in prayer beside a trundle bed. With white walls and dark pine floorboards, and the girl’s black prayer kapp and white pinafore, the drawing was a contrast of light and shadows. One could feel the presence of God in the rays of moonlight streaming through the open window.

She smiled with pleasure, leaning over his arm. “That’s one of my favorites. Not bad for someone with no talent and no training, huh?”

He shook his head. “You have talent—make no mistake about that. And what kind of training does an artist need? Either a person has the gift or they don’t.”

“A few classes would have been nice in school. My teacher’s idea of art was coloring a seasonal mimeographed page. All the trees were green and every autumn leaf either red or gold. Everyone’s picture looked exactly the same.”

Seth dispensed his usual daed look. “Plain folk have no need for individuality as long as you’re known personally to God.” He shut the sketch pad and handed it back to her. “But providing you get your chores done, I see no harm in capturing the beauty of nature in your pictures.” He rose to his feet. “Which of the lilies of the field will my artist choose to draw today?” He waved his hand toward the multitude of flowers and weeds growing along the vine-shrouded wall. “It’s going to be time for the evening meal soon. Don’t be late, Phoebe. You know how your Uncle Simon hates not eating at the appointed hour.” Seth started down the path and did not glance back. He didn’t have to. He knew she wouldn’t be late for supper, or neglect her chores, or forget to say her nightly prayers…because she never did.

Phoebe was a good girl. She had never painted her face with makeup as Emma had during her rumschpringe, nor taken up with an English boy with a fast green truck. Everything was well and good now that Emma and James were married, raising two little boys, and sheep farming in nearby Charm. But when they first converted to New Order, both sets of parents lost more than one good night’s sleep.

And Phoebe had no desire to go into business like her cousin Leah. Running a diner with a business partner as naive as she had almost landed Leah in the county jail. Who knew not collecting sales tax to send to the State of Ohio was a crime? Phoebe shuddered remembering how long it had taken Leah to pay her share of the debt incurred by the diner. Meeting Jonah Byler had been the only good thing to come out of that fiasco. Apparently, he hadn’t been looking for a wife with any business savvy.

No, Phoebe was a good girl. She helped with cooking, cleaning, and laundry, and she did her fair share of gardening, canning, and berry picking despite having no particular fondness for domestic duties. Her mamm and Emma had their beloved sheep, along with the spinning, dyeing, carding, and weaving that came with the woolly creatures. Both women knitted such exquisite sweaters and sofa throws that tourists would pay more than a hundred dollars for one of their creations. Leah had her pie-making cottage industry. Bakeries throughout the county clamored for Leah Byler pies. But Phoebe’s heart had never thrilled over a particularly flaky piecrust or the perfect sweet-tart balance of her fruit filling. Only her art held any joy for her. Painting with acrylics from the Bargain Outlet or sketching people while they were unaware lifted Phoebe’s spirits like nothing else. Not exactly a practical pastime for someone Plain, but what else could she do?

With a sigh she selected a moss-covered log for today’s subject. The dark moist wood, where decay added a blackish-green hue, along with the sun-baked topside, striated and gnarly from wind and weather, would provide a stark background to delicate yellow buttercups in the foreground.

For almost an hour, feeling the warm sun on her face and a cool breeze on her neck, Phoebe surrendered to her creation. Adding a bold slash here or light shading there, the flowers on paper became almost as real as those growing near her feet. She lost herself in her work, unaware of hunger or thirst or the pesky hornet circling her head. Funny how mopping the floor, hanging laundry on the line, or slicing peaches for cobbler couldn’t hold her interest like this. When she was busy with those chores, all she could think about was snitching another cookie or refilling her glass with lemonade.

Finally, as the drawing neared completion, she leaned back with a satisfied sigh. There had to be something she could do with her “gift,” as her parents called it. She’d been out of school for three years, yet she seldom brought to the household income more than a few dollars from selling eggs. She’d once hung up an index card at the grocery store that announced “Artist for Hire” with her name and address at the bottom in block letters. She landed two commissions from the advertisement. One, a local farmer needed an autumn replacement for his produce market sign once peaches, organic lettuce, and berries were long gone. Phoebe created a four-foot by six-foot masterpiece showcasing colorful apples, pumpkins, butternut squash, eggplant, and Indian corn. She tried to turn down the second project. An elderly widow needed someone to actually paint the white picket fence around her vegetable patch. But, of course, her daedmade her take the job. Painting was painting, he declared.

Packing up her supplies, she started down the well-worn path to the rambling farmhouse filled with her parents, brother, aunt, uncle, and cousins. Lately, it felt as though she’d wandered into the wrong house but the residents were too polite to tell her. How could she live surrounded by affectionate and endearing people, yet still feel utterly, completely alone?

Julia stepped down from the buggy gingerly, always a little nervous to see if her legs would hold her. It had been years since her double knee-replacement surgery, yet she remained skeptical about the stainless steel substitute parts.

Simon took her arm to steady her. “Easy does it, fraa. Did you take your pills today?”

“Jah, of course, like I do every day. I’m just stiff from sitting. Run off now and find your brother. With these perfectly fine store-bought knees, we should have walked here. What’s the advantage of living next door to Seth and Hannah if we must drag out the horse and buggy even in perfect weather?” Julia leaned heavily on her husband’s arm despite her assertion that she could have walked half a mile through scrub forest and bog.

“I’m not running anywhere until you’re planted in one of Hannah’s kitchen chairs,” Simon insisted. “And our old gelding needs the exercise more than we do.”

“If Hannah sees you practically carrying me inside, she’ll start feeding me more of her herbal cures.” They paused midway to the house. “Boswellia, bromelain, yucca, turmeric, sea cucumber—do you know what those things taste like?” Julie wrinkled her nose. “I burped the other day, and it tasted like stagnant green pond water.”

“How is it you know what stagnant water tastes like?” Simon clutched her tightly around the waist as they reached the porch.

“I’d rather not say what my sister was like as a teenager.”

“Whatever she gives you to eat or drink, you’ll take without complaint. One of these days Hannah will land on a miracle cure that will have you skipping like a schoolgirl again.”

Julie gulped a deep breath and climbed the steps, clucking her tongue in disapproval. “Miracles from teas and tonics? And you—the district deacon. What’s gotten into you?” She reached for the door frame to steady herself.

“All miracles come from the Lord, but He uses a wide variety of delivery methods.” Simon kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you at supper.”

Julia waited until she stopped panting like a dog before entering her sister’s large, airy kitchen. “Hannah,” she called, finding the room empty.

Hannah Miller bustled into the room looking as fresh and cheery as she had ten years ago. Amazing what the lack of chronic pain did for a person’s appearance and attitude. “You’re alone?” she said, pulling aside the curtain. “Where are your daughters? I prepared way too much glazed ham and potato salad if the rest of your family isn’t coming to eat.” She left the window and carried tall glasses of iced tea to the table.

Julia smiled, lowering herself onto a chair. “Just Simon and myself, but I promise to eat ravenously. Henry will stop over later. He took the open buggy for a ride after spending hours yesterday polishing every inch with leather oil. I think he’s courting some gal, but when I drop subtle hints, he turns beet red and clams up.”

Hannah sat on the opposite side of the long table—a table large enough to seat the entire Miller clan. “You, subtle?” She winked one luminous green eye. “Julia, you’re as subtle as a blind bull in a spring pasture. Poor Henry, being the only one left at home. What about Leah? She’s not coming either?” Hannah laced her fingers over her still flat belly. “I was itching for one of her peach pies.”

“No fresh peaches yet. You would know that if you left your loom and spinning wheel once in a while. And all her canned peaches are gone. Anyway, she and Jonah are staying home today, as are Emma, James, and their two boys.” Julia leaned back in her chair. “I saw Ben chasing that dog of his, but where’s Phoebe?” She craned her neck to scan the living room. “Let me guess. She’s upstairs immortalizing the intricacies of a spider in her web instead of whacking it down with a broom.”

Hannah took a long swallow of tea. “Too warm upstairs in her room. She headed to the high pasture with her tablet. Seth walked up to check on her, although she can’t get lost or into any trouble up there. Still, he would prefer she stay within eyeshot of the house at all times.”

“I remember when you used to hide from people. Sometimes in the woods, sometimes down by the river when you first moved here from Lancaster. Especially whenever my Simon crawled up your neck.”

Hannah snorted dismissively. “I wasn’t hiding from your Simon. I was plotting how to snare Seth into my web, just like Phoebe’s pet spider. It wasn’t easy, but I ran away from him so often he finally caught me.”

The two enjoyed a chuckle. “The two Kline sisters marrying the two Miller brothers. It sure made things handy, no? Maybe that’s what your Phoebe does when she wanders off by herself. She’s plotting how to capture the eye of some hapless young man at the next social event. Isn’t she seventeen?”

“Almost eighteen. But no, she won’t go to singings. She says they make her nervous. She’ll only attend work frolics and quilting parties. Not too many eligible young men attend sewing bees.” Hannah finished her tea and rose to refill both glasses. “She says she has nothing in common with boys her age.”

“How would she know if she never steps out from behind your skirt? Has she ever talked to boys other than to say ‘Pass me the catsup?’ ” The words escaped Julia’s mouth before she could clamp her jaw shut. She mentally winced at her bad habit of overstepping the role of big sister. Running roughshod over folks—that’s how Simon referred to it.

“Phoebe’s still young. She has plenty of time. People aren’t marrying so early anymore, not like when we were that age.” Hannah tucked a stray lock of flaxen hair under her prayer kapp.

Julia rubbed her fingers one at a time. “She shouldn’t spend so much time alone. It’s not healthy.”

Hannah shot Julia a look that meant You’re treading dangerously close to thin ice. “I realize with both of your daughters married that you have no one to needle and advise. You can always go back to me to keep your talons razor sharp.”

“Ach, I would, but I threw my hands up years ago and declared you a hopeless case. You listen to advice as well as your sheep.” Julia stared out the window where the lilac bush was in full bloom without seeing the profusion of flowers. “At least your daughter has come a long way since you started courting Seth. How long did Phoebe go without speaking a single word—eight months, a year?”

Hannah paused to consider. “Almost a year and a half. Constance’s death pulled the rug out from under her feet. Seth was trying to cope with a household without his wife, along with his own grief. He was too busy and too distracted to notice a little girl in serious pain.” She furrowed her forehead as memories of some very difficult months returned. “Seth wasn’t spending enough time with her because he had suddenly twice as much on his plate. But how can you explain that to a five-year-old?”

“Then Phoebe watched all her daed’s attention being lavished on you.” Julia chanced a look at her sister.

Hannah scoffed. “‘Lavish’ would hardly describe Seth’s interest in me.”

“True enough. He erected quite a wall around himself while you patiently worked with Phoebe. Eventually, she came around and started talking again, but she’s still a very quiet child. No one would believe she was a Miller if she wasn’t the spitting image of Seth. They would have figured Constance discovered a foundling in the parking lot of Walmart and brought her home.”

Hannah’s smile looked bittersweet. “Seth didn’t like being told how to raise his daughter, did he, but eventually he ran out of choices and took my suggestions.” She shook off the reminiscence like a dog in the rain. “Now he dotes on the girl, as much as she’ll allow him, to the point of wrapping her in a cocoon. Pity the poor boys that come around when Phoebe starts courting. Seth will probably stand guard in the front room with his squirrel rifle across his chest.”

“I didn’t know Seth ever went hunting.” Julia lifted one eyebrow.

“He doesn’t. He inherited that relic of a firearm from his daed. Just don’t tell the young men that gun hasn’t been fired in twenty years.” They enjoyed a good belly laugh while Hannah started pulling side dishes from the refrigerator.

To feel useful, Julia pushed herself up from the table to get plates, glasses, and silverware. Sitting too long stiffened her arthritic joints, hastening the day when she would need more replacement parts. By the time Hannah carried the platter of sliced ham to the table, in trailed Seth, Simon, Ben, and Henry. Julia blinked at her son’s early appearance. “You’re back from your ride already, son?”

Henry’s ears reddened while he washed his hands at the sink. “I saw what I set out to see.” He slunk to a chair like a stray barn cat.

Phoebe slipped into the house then, joining them just in time for silent prayer. The moment everyone lifted their bowed heads and began passing bowls of food, Henry turned to his cousin. “After we eat, Phoebe, would you like to see my new filly?” Despite the fact he was a grown man at twenty-one, he blushed whenever he addressed females, even family members.

“Sure,” she agreed, popping a gherkin into her mouth. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“Hardly anything. I picked her up at the Sugarcreek auction for a song. She had a mild limp, so other buyers passed her over.” He drained half his glass of milk.

Simon set down his fork, dabbing his beard with his napkin. “You bought a lame horse, son? What are we going to do with her if she’s not fit for the buggy or pulling a plow?”

Julia and Hannah exchanged a glance. Father and son had been down this road enough times to wear grooves in the pavement.

“She’s not lame, Dad. A slight limp, that’s all. And she’s much improved since I started applying liniment and wrapping the leg.” Henry built a sandwich with home-baked rye bread, several slices of ham, and hot pepper relish.

Simon grunted, picking up his coffee cup. “Could she at least pull a pony cart to earn her keep?”

“Eventually. Maybe.” Henry bit into the stack, rendering further speech impossible.

“Look at it this way—she is a filly and could turn into a fine brood mare someday.” Seth interjected his two cents’ worth into the conversation.

Simon’s brows beetled above the bridge of his nose, focusing on his brother. “We don’t have room for the horses we own now. They’re already two to a stall, and my horse pasture is grazed down to nubs by July. I’ll have to start feeding them oats and timothy year-round.”

“Maybe I’ll lease you some of our pastureland. Hannah’s flock is down this year. If you’re willing to pay me a fair price, that is.” Seth bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“I think it’s a fine thing you’re doing, nephew,” said Hannah, slicing pies at the counter. “Rescuing balky horses from the auction kill pen and then retraining them for useful lives is a noble calling.”

Julia watched Hannah aim her dazzling smile at Simon. After all these years, she still loved getting her brother-in-law’s goat.

“Jah, Hannah,” said Simon. “But the idea was to resell the horses at a profit and make a little income while he’s doing his good deed.”

“I have sold some,” said Henry, after swallowing another mouthful of sandwich. “Just last month I sold that three-year-old Morgan to the bishop’s son. He couldn’t believe the change that had come over that horse with two years of training.”

Simon rolled his eyes, pushing away his plate. “Two years for a Morgan to let someone put a saddle on his back?” His muttering was barely audible, knowing he was outnumbered by animal lovers in his brother’s home. “Fine, nursemaid your new filly. Just don’t turn my barn into the Miller Horse Sanctuary.”

Phoebe straightened up in her chair. Small and shy, it was easy to forget she was in the room. “That has a nice ring to it.” She flashed Henry a grin. “Would you like me to make you a sign to put down by the road? I could paint a stallion and mare, with a young filly in the foreground. I’m pretty good at drawing horses.” She winked one warm cocoa-brown eye at him.

Some of Julia’s tea slipped down her windpipe and then flew right out her nose as she gagged and coughed. The rest of the family laughed more moderately, except for her beloved husband, Simon. He simply stared at his favorite niece as though she’d grown a tail.

“Danki for your generous offer, Phoebe, but that won’t be necessary,” he said in his most patient voice. “Everyone in the county already knows the location of Henry’s save-a-horse society.” Simon reached for the largest slice of pie among the dessert plates.

Julia wiped her face and then left the table to blow her nose, trying to compose herself. She knew she needed to better control her drinking habits because she had a feeling it would be one long, hot summer.

My Thoughts:

Although part of a series, I found that "An Amish Family Reunion" can be read as a stand alone. There is enough back story to be able to pick this up and not feel lost, however, because of the number of characters it can get a little confusing.

Mary Ellis is a new author to me and found her writing style to be captivating. Her characters are not the "cookie cutter" Amish, but instead have their own personalities and find ways of being somewhat of an individual and still stay in the bounds of the Ordnung.

This novel was an enjoyable read and makes me want to go back and start from the beginning to see what all I missed with all the different families/children. With that said, I must include a warning here. I found this novel made me want to start baking. With all the pie baking going on, I ended up putting the book aside and baking hubby a peach pie and chocolate chip cookies. He didn't mind, but I must admit, this book was harder on the waistline than most! Mary Ellis also included some delicious recipes in the back of the book.

Winter Promise (Seasons of the Heart) by Martha Rogers

2012-02-06T00:05:00.000-05:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Martha Rogers

and the book:

Winter Promise (Seasons of the Heart)

Realms (January 3, 2012)

***Special thanks to Jon Wooten of Charisma House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Martha Rogers is the author of Becoming Lucy; Morning for Dove; Finding Becky; Caroline’s Choice; Not on the Menu, a part of a novella collection with DiAnn Mills, Janice Thompson, and Kathleen Y’Barbo; and River Walk Christmas, a novella collection with Beth Goddard, Lynette Sowell, and Kathleen Y’Barbo. A former schoolteacher and English instructor, she has a master’s degree in education and lives with her husband in Houston, Texas.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

A painful past has left Doctor Elliot Jensen uninterested in love.

Until he meets Abigail.

Single, educated, and looking for a new start, Abigail Monroe decides to join her brother and his wife in Portersville, Texas. Near her twenty-fifth birthday and without a suitor, she fears she will become a spinster if she stays in Briar Ridge, Connecticut.

A sprained ankle sends Abigail to the new doctor in town, Elliot Jensen. He is smitten, but tragedy in his past has left him bitter, guilt ridden, and afraid to fall in love again.

When the town’s deputy sheriff rescues Abigail after a robbery, Elliot’s feelings for her get stronger. He is jealous of the attention Abigail is getting, but he fears he can’t compete with the handsome deputy sheriff and his heroic deeds.

Has he waited too long to share his feelings for her? Or will Christmas bring them both the gift they seek?

Set in the late 1800s, the Seasons of the Heart series follows the lives of four women and their families, weaving together their stories of faith, life, and love as they bond in friendship only God could orchestrate.

Product Details:
List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Realms (January 3, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1616384980
ISBN-13: 978-1616384982

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Porterfield, Texas, 1890

Porterfield, next stop in ten minutes.” The conductor’s announcement sent the butterflies to dancing again in Abigail Monroe’s stomach. Ever since they entered the state of Texas,
her mind had flitted from one thing to the next in a series of images that blurred one into the other. What she remembered from her visit last spring had been enough to give her the
desire to return as a permanent resident.
All around her passengers began gathering their belongings and preparing to leave the train. Mrs. Mabel Newton, who had accompanied her on the trip, adjusted her hat and picked
up her handbag. “Well, your adventure will begin shortly.”
Abigail grinned at the elderly woman. If it had not been for Rachel’s aunt’s desire to come west to visit her daughter, this trip may have been delayed indefinitely. “Thank you so
much for coming with me, Aunt Mabel. You know how Father worried and didn’t want me to travel alone.” Abigail had fallen into calling the woman “Aunt Mabel” due to her close friendship with Rachel.
“And well he should have been. It isn’t safe for a young woman of your standing to be crossing the country by train without an escort.” She tilted her head toward Abigail, and the
feathers on the black hat covering her gray hair quivered with the movement.
Her parents had at first refused to even consider such a move for their only daughter, but as they began to realize that she was almost twenty-two years of age, their objections lessened.
They had been in Porterfield a few months earlier for the wedding of Daniel, Abigail’s brother who came to Porterfield a year ago as the town’s only attorney. Now he served as county attorney and prosecutor. When Mabel Newton had said she wanted to visit her daughter and niece, Father had finally agreed to let Abigail go.
Another factor in her decision to leave Briar Ridge had been Rachel Reed, her very best friend since childhood. Rachel’s husband, Nathan, had taken Daniel’s place as an
attorney for the citizens of Porterfield, and now they too lived in the Texas town. As far as Abigail was concerned, God had orchestrated a great symphony of opportunities, and she had
seized the score to become a part of the music.
“Aunt Mabel, do you think my plan for establishing a library is a sound one? Nathan and Daniel have found a building they think is suitable and will negotiate the purchase
of it if I approve.” “Every town needs a library whether they know it or not. Your brother and Nathan have good judgment, so the place must be about perfect.”
A snicker escaped Abigail’s throat. Daniel had always been her protector, and if the building suited him, it most definitely would suit her. She’d been so angry with him for leaving her
behind in Briar Ridge last year. Of course he thought it was because she’d miss him, but it was really because she’d been jealous of his new adventure.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you and that young Wentworth. He seemed very interested in you when you and Rachel were in Boston.”
Abigail had been interested too at first, but when she realized what all would be expected of her as the wife of a Wentworth, her interest cooled, and so had his. Now she had this new adventure ahead of her.
“It worked out for the best, but life became so dull in Briar Ridge without Rachel or Daniel that I could hardly bear it. I’d grown tired of entertaining with Mother and taking part on church committees. I want to do something on my own for a change.”
“I see. So the fact that Porterfield has an overabundance of single men of all ages didn’t have anything to do with your decision.” Aunt Mabel’s blue eyes sparkled with merriment.
Abigail’s cheeks filled with heat. She truly wasn’t interested in finding a husband anytime soon, even if other people thought so. The train whistle screeched through the early
afternoon air. Abigail clutched her handbag and closed her eyes. Please, Lord. Don’t let this be a mistake. Help me to dothe things I want to do for Porterfield with books and accept
whatever else You have planned for me.
The train stopped with a jolt that sent her forward with
a lurch. She assisted Aunt Mabel with her bag then followed
the older woman down the aisle. Dozens of people lined the
platform waving as the train emptied itself of its load of passengers.
As she stepped from the train car, Abigail scanned
the crowd, and her heart leaped with joy when she spotted
Rachel.
Rachel rushed forward and grabbed Abigail. “Oh, I’m so
glad you’re finally here. I thought the last three months would
never end.” Then she turned to hug her aunt. “I’m glad you’re
here too. With Seth, Sarah, Abigail, and you, I won’t feel at
all lonesome, not that I could the way the Muldoon clan has
taken us in.”
“When I met them at Daniel’s wedding, I knew they would make all of you feel right at home. I’m anxious to talk with Mrs. Sullivan again.” Abigail had been impressed with
the boardinghouse and looked forward to living there.
“You’ll get to see her soon enough. She’s waiting for you and has your room all ready. The Muldoons are having us all for dinner at the ranch tonight.”
That meant a quick study of the members of the Muldoon family would be in order before the trip out there. She hugged Rachel again and noted the glow in her eyes and face. “You
must really be happy here with Nathan.”
Before she could answer, Aunt Mabel stepped back and
eyed Rachel. “My dear, are you in the family way?”
Heat flooded Rachel’s cheeks, and she grinned. “Yes, I am, and so is . . . “ She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, I almost slipped. She wants to tell everyone herself at dinner.”
Abigail ran through the list of possibilities. Kate? Erin? Sarah again? Whoever it was, the baby would be welcomed by many loving aunts, uncles, and cousins.
Arms wrapped around her shoulders from the back, and she craned her neck to see who it could be. “Daniel!” She turned and hugged her brother. “Isn’t this exciting? I’m here at last. We had a delightful train trip, and I can’t wait to see your new house. And where’s Kate?”
“Hey, slow down, little sister. No need to get it all out at once, but to answer your question, Doc Jensen and Elliot had an emergency at the infirmary, so she’s there. She said she’d meet us wherever we were when she finished.”
“I believe Aunt Mabel will be staying with Sarah and Donavan. At least that’s what she plans on. Mrs. Sullivan said she has a room for me at the boardinghouse, so that’s where I’m headed.”
Daniel frowned and peered at her. “But Kate is hoping you’ll live with us.”
“Oh, Daniel, you two are newly married. Besides, I’d rather be closer to town so I can take care of the library.” Kate and Daniel didn’t live far from town, but her staying at the boardinghouse would be less of an intrusion on their new marriage.
They headed toward the cart where the baggage had been unloaded. Aunt Mabel busied herself with telling Rachel all about the trip cross-country. Abigail gazed at the town beyond
the depot. Porterfield, Texas, would be her home now, and it looked just as friendly and nice as it had when she’d been here in the spring. A little more primitive than Briar Ridge, it still
had all the stores and businesses one could need, including a delightful bakery.
Daniel heaved down a trunk and headed to his surrey with it. Abigail walked along beside him and noted how the men stopped to stare. Her cheeks filled with heat. She may as well
be on display in a store window.
“I didn’t realize . . . never mind.” She grinned and hopstepped to keep up with her brother.
He pushed the trunk onto the floor behind the front seat.
“By the way, the building Nathan and I have in mind for you is across the street from the infirmary. It’s where the land offices were until the new courthouse opened. Now it’s vacant, and it’s just about the size you’ll need for the library.”
“I’m sure it will be fine if you and Nathan think so.” She shook her head and giggled as they headed back for more of her things. “I still can’t believe he and Rachel moved away from Connecticut. I always figured that when they did move, it would be to North Carolina, his home.”
Another man had joined the group and helped unload Aunt Mabel’s bags. She recognized him as one of Kate’s older brothers she had met at the wedding. What was his name? Oh, yes, Cory, the lawman and only single male in the Muldoon family, as well as one of the most handsome men Abigail had ever met.
Daniel grabbed her arm and took her over to greet him. “You remember Cory, one of Kate’s brothers.”
Abigail smiled and extended her hand. “I certainly do. You and your brothers were quite the pranksters at the wedding.”
Red tinged Cory’s well-tanned face. His eyes, more green than blue, sparkled with humor. He pushed his white Stetson back on his head, revealing sandy red curls on his forehead, much like her brother’s dark ones. “Guilty as charged, but we had to make up for not doing anything at Erin’s. Didn’t want to play tricks on the reverend.”
Getting to know the Muldoon family would be fun, but getting to know Cory might be even more so. Perhaps she should reconsider her decision not to become involved with any of the eligible young men in Porterfield.
Elliot finished the stitches to close the wound on the balding head of Cyrus Fuller. He’d tripped coming out of the bank and fell, cutting his head on the edge of the boardwalk. Elliot used five stitches to close it. “There, now, Mr. Fuller. You’ll be right as rain. Come back to see me in a few days and let me check on the stitches. Don’t get it wet for a while.”
He pushed back his rolling stool and picked up a bottle. “If you experience any pain, take a few drops of this and it should be all right, but don’t take more than a few drops. Understand?”
The bank teller nodded and took the bottle. “I do, and I won’t take it unless I really need it.” He stood and grasped the edge of the bed for support.
Kate Monroe picked up the tray with the suturing supplies and equipment. “Aunt Mae will make certain you’re comfortable, Mr. Fuller. She’ll take good care of you.”
The man’s face, including his bald head fringed in gray, turned a bright red. “I’m sure she will, but I don’t want her to go to any trouble.”
Kate laughed. “It won’t be any trouble. You know that.”
Elliot turned to put the bandages back in the cabinet to hide his smile. Everyone in town knew Cyrus Fuller was sweet on Aunt Mae, and she didn’t spurn his attention either. This
was one patient he wouldn’t have to worry about.
He walked with Mr. Fuller to the front door of the infirmary just to make sure the man was steady on his feet. At the door Cyrus shook Elliot’s hand. “Can’t thank you enough, Doctor Jensen. You did a fine job, and it hardly hurts at all. Tell your uncle I said hello.” He lifted his hat to set it on his head, felt the stitches, and promptly put his hand down, still holding the hat.
Mr. Fuller took off in the direction of the boardinghouse, a few blocks down the street. Elliot continued to observe the man as he made his way home. Satisfied that he was all right, Elliot turned to walk back inside when he spotted Daniel in a buggy with a young woman beside him. Her golden brown hair peeked from beneath a black hat trimmed with yellow flowers, which matched the yellow dress she wore. She shifted her gaze toward him and locked with his. Something inside Elliot clicked, and a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time came over him.
Elliot looked away and forced the emotion back into the deep recesses of his soul. He’d never let those feelings back into his life. They hurt too much.
A voice beside him caused him to blink his eyes and turn. “What did you say?”
Kate stood beside him. “I said that’s Abigail, Daniel’s sister. She was at his wedding, and she’s come to live here in Porterfield. Remember I told you about her coming to set up a
library for the town?”
“I remember.” But he never expected her to be so pretty. He cleared his throat and hurried back into the infirmary. He needed to clean up the room where they’d just worked on Mr.
Fuller, and it would help him forget the girl in yellow.
Kate’s voice followed him. “If you don’t have anything else for me, I’m going to run down to Aunt Mae’s and meet up with Daniel and Abigail. I’ll be there if you need me.”
He waved her out. Kate was a good assistant. He and his uncle had come to depend on her for so many things at the infirmary. Doc should be back shortly, that is if everything went well at the Blalocks’ place. Mrs. Blalock didn’t usually have trouble with her deliveries, and as this was the fifth one, no problems were anticipated today.
Cleaning up didn’t take long, and when he’d finished, Elliot went to the desk to fill out a report for Cyrus Fuller’s medical file. The image of Abigail Monroe swam before his eyes. Porterfield sadly lacked young women of marrying age, so Elliot had no trouble staying away from what social life existed in town. He’d left Ohio with the vow that he’d never become
involved with a young woman again. Everything had been fine until today when that little spark had jumped in his chest.
“I hear Cyrus Fuller had an accident. Get him all taken care of?”
Elliot jumped and dropped his pen. He greeted his uncle. “When did you come in? Yes, he’s fine. How did things go at the Blalocks?”
His uncle grinned and set his bag on the desk. “Just like it should. This little boy decided to take longer than necessary, but he’s good and healthy.” He removed his hat and hung it on
a hook then removed his coat. “I saw Daniel Monroe with a pretty young woman down at Mae’s. Must be his sister from back east.”
“It is. Kate was here to help with Cyrus, and then she left to go meet them.”
“She’s a pretty little thing from what I remember of last spring. It’ll be nice to have a young woman like her around her for a change. You, Cory, and Philip Dawes are about the most
eligible young men in town, and one of you ought to set your sights on her.”
“There’s a lot of men over at the sawmill, and many more on the ranches. That’s why Frank Cahoon and Allen Dawes sent off for those brides. Remember?” So many other men in town would take an interest in Abigail and keep her busy. He’d managed to stay clear of any kind of relationship so far, and that was just the way he wanted it. Never again did he want to feel the pain he’d experienced in Cleveland.

Recant Review for "Beyond Molasses Creek" by Nichole Seitz

2012-02-04T14:16:00.000-05:00

Beyond Molasses Creek
Author: Nichole Seitz
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
ISBN:
Paperback, 320 pages
Genre: General fiction

Purchase here

About the Book:

Three lives are bound by a single book . . . and the cleansing waters of Molasses Creek.
Having traveled to the ends of the earth as a flight attendant, Ally Green has finally returned to the Lowcountry to bury her father as well as the past. But Vesey Washington is still living across the creek, and theirs is a complicated relationship—he was once her best friend . . . and also part of the reason she’s stayed away so long. When Ally discovers a message her father left behind asking her to quit running, it seems her past isn’t through with her yet.

As Ally’s wandering spirit wrestles with a deep longing to flee again, a young woman on the other side of the world escapes her life of slavery in the rock quarries of Nepal. A mysterious sketchbook leads Sunila Kunari to believe there’s more to her story than she’s ever been told, and she’s determined to follow the truth wherever it leads her.

A deep current intertwines the lives of these three souls, and a destiny of freedom, faith, and friendship awaits them all on the banks of Molasses Creek.

My Thoughts:

I had received a very nice comment from Nicole about the review of her book I had posted this morning. I had assumed that because the book came from Thomas Nelson (a well-known Christian publisher), that is was automatically Christian fiction. This, in fact, is not the case with Nichole's book. The book is categorized as GENERAL fiction and NOT Christian fiction. This fact changes my whole review and outlook about the book, so I have decided to post a recant.

"Beyond Molasses Creek" is an engrossing and enjoyable read that was difficult to put down. It deals with racism and stereotypes and shows how this can interfere and have a profound impact on people's lives.

This book is written from three points of view, creating characters the reader can connect with. Ally is a 60 year old woman who has lost her father and returns to his home to finalize things. Vesey was Ally's friend growing up and he has lived all his life across the creek from Ally's home. Sunila lives in Nepal and has worked all her life in the rock quarries.

Ally's discontent and searching for peace was replaced by running away. Whenever life became difficult, she looked for something to fill the need. She spoke of gods and had numerous stone replicas of different gods she found in her travels. She was hung up in the past and as the book unfolds, one can understand why.

Vesey is a strong character that knows exactly what he wants and where he is going to end up. He has lived a good and full life and is a lovable character (and my favorite).

Sunila is also a strong character, even with her upbringing, she has a strength that shines through.

I will admit, I am a stickler for truth, so I struggled with some of the "white lies" that were told. A father tells a "white" lie to his daughter that she holds against him for a long time. A mother tells a huge "white" lie to her daughter, and she sees no harm in it. A set of parents tell a lie to their daughter because they need to protect everyone in the family. The lies seem OK in this story as they are just lies that won't hurt anyone and will "protect" those that are being lied to. I want to elaborate more, but I can't without giving away the story. What I will say though, is the last lie in the story came as a total surprise, because of the impact that lies have had on that person in the past, and it totally frustrated me!

This book is about love, loss, searching, forgiveness, understanding and healing. It's an emotional and well written story. Since it is general fiction, it's geared towards all audiences, so don't let the publisher fool you. Yes, there's discussion about faith, but it's more of a clean read with a little Christian content.

About the Author:

Nicole Seitz is the author of several critically acclaimed novels - The Inheritance of Beauty, Saving Cicadas, A Hundred Years of Happiness, Trouble the Water, and The Spirit of Sweetgrass. She is a graduate of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill's School of Journalism, and also has a degree in Illustration from Savannah College of Art & Design. Her paintings are featured on the covers of her books. Visit her at @NicoleSeitz,Facebook and www.nicoleseitz.com for more information.

About the Party

Nicole is celebrating the release of Beyond Molasses Creek with a fabulous "Friendship" Facebook party! She'll be giving away a ton of great stuff (KINDLE TOUCH, some of her own beautiful artwork, a Book Club Prize Pack (10 copies of the book for your small group/book club and a Live Skype Chat with Nicole), and more!

CLICK the button (below) to RSVP for the party - then join us on February 16th for a book chat, story sharing and prizes! Hope to see you there!

Save the Date! 2/16!

Click here to see what others have to say about Beyond Molasses Creek.

I received a complimentary copy of "Beyond Molasses Creek" to read and honestly review for this tour.

Beyond Molasses Creek by Nichole Seitz

2012-02-04T07:02:00.005-05:00

Beyond Molasses Creek
Author: Nichole Seitz
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
ISBN:
Paperback, 320 pages
Genre: Christian fiction

Purchase here

About the Book:

Three lives are bound by a single book . . . and the cleansing waters of Molasses Creek.
Having traveled to the ends of the earth as a flight attendant, Ally Green has finally returned to the Lowcountry to bury her father as well as the past. But Vesey Washington is still living across the creek, and theirs is a complicated relationship—he was once her best friend . . . and also part of the reason she’s stayed away so long. When Ally discovers a message her father left behind asking her to quit running, it seems her past isn’t through with her yet.

As Ally’s wandering spirit wrestles with a deep longing to flee again, a young woman on the other side of the world escapes her life of slavery in the rock quarries of Nepal. A mysterious sketchbook leads Sunila Kunari to believe there’s more to her story than she’s ever been told, and she’s determined to follow the truth wherever it leads her.

A deep current intertwines the lives of these three souls, and a destiny of freedom, faith, and friendship awaits them all on the banks of Molasses Creek.

My Thoughts:

"Beyond Molasses Creek" is an engrossing and enjoyable read that was difficult to put down. It deals with racism and stereotypes and shows how this can interfere and have a profound impact on people's lives.

This book is written from three points of view, creating characters the reader can connect with. Ally is a 60 year old woman who has lost her father and returns to his home to finalize things. Vesey was Ally's friend growing up and he has lived all his life across the creek from Ally's home. Sunila lives in Nepal and has worked all her life in the rock quarries.

I enjoy reading Christian fiction because of the message that normally comes through the pages. In "Beyond Molasses Creek" it was muddled and focused on Ally's discontent and searching for peace. She spoke of gods and had numerous stone replicas of different gods she found in her travels. She was hung up in the past and as the book unfolds, one can understand why.

This book is about love, loss, searching, forgiveness, understanding and healing. Although categorized as Christian fiction, the faith and love of God didn't come through as much as I would have liked. One of the biggest problems I had was with the lies. A father tells a "white" lie to his daughter that she holds against him for a long time. A mother tells a huge "white" lie to her daughter, and she sees no harm in it. A set of parents tell a lie to their daughter because they need to protect everyone in the family. The lies seem OK in this story as they are just lies that won't hurt anyone and will "protect" those that are being lied to. I want to elaborate more, but I can't without giving away the story. What I will say though, is the last lie in the story came as a total surprise, because of the impact that lies have had on that person in the past.

Although a very good and well written story, this one really pushes the Christian category for me. Yes, there's discussion about faith, but it's more of a clean read with a little Christian content.

About the Author:

Nicole Seitz is the author of several critically acclaimed novels - The Inheritance of Beauty, Saving Cicadas, A Hundred Years of Happiness, Trouble the Water, and The Spirit of Sweetgrass. She is a graduate of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill's School of Journalism, and also has a degree in Illustration from Savannah College of Art & Design. Her paintings are featured on the covers of her books. Visit her at @NicoleSeitz, Facebook and www.nicoleseitz.com for more information.

About the Party

Nicole is celebrating the release of Beyond Molasses Creek with a fabulous "Friendship" Facebook party! She'll be giving away a ton of great stuff (KINDLE TOUCH, some of her own beautiful artwork, a Book Club Prize Pack (10 copies of the book for your small group/book club and a Live Skype Chat with Nicole), and more!

CLICK the button (below) to RSVP for the party - then join us on February 16th for a book chat, story sharing and prizes! Hope to see you there!

Save the Date! 2/16!

Click here to see what others have to say about Beyond Molasses Creek.

I received a complimentary copy of "Beyond Molasses Creek" to read and honestly review for this tour.

Heroes and Hounds by Bill Miller Tour with #Giveaway

2012-02-03T07:47:00.000-05:00

Heroes and Hounds
Author: Bill Miller
Publisher: CreateSpace
ISBN: 9781456310363
Genre: Young Adult, Adventure

About the Book:

Heroes and Hounds is a wonderfully charming story about a young girl’s adventures with her pony and her friend as she seeks to fulfill her dream of riding “to the hounds” with the hunt. Although the story is written for young audiences, it has multi-generational appeal as it touches on such issues as the plight of families with parents in military service and the welfare of veterans. Anyone who loves horses, dogs and other animals will enjoy this book. The illustrations are beautiful and create a nostalgia of their own in their old-style look reminiscent of children’s books decades ago.

Carly is 11 years old and lives with her grandfather on a 200-acre Virginia farm while both parents serve in the military overseas. She loves the farm, and befriends all of the animals including a sneaky red fox that stalks her grandfather’s prize chickens. Her best friend is her pony, Monroe, who shares her enthusiasm for adventure. Carly’s constant dream is to ride with the Riverdale Hunt Club that passes through her grandfather’s property.

On one particularly rainy Saturday, Carly watches from her front porch as the finely dressed ladies and gentlemen ride to the hounds. Later in the day, Carly finds out that a young hound named Hampton has become lost and Carly is determined to find him and by so doing endear herself to the hunt’s Master; perhaps to be asked to ride Monroe in an upcoming meet. Carly enlists the help of her friend, Freddie, but the adventure is just beginning. Carly, Monroe, Hampton and the red fox have no idea what’s dangers await them.

My Thoughts:

Carly is an eleven year old girl who loves horses and dreams of one day riding with the local hunt club. When one of the hounds wanders from the pack, Carly sets out on an adventure to look for him. This adventure goes well above and beyond what she bargained for.

Mr. Miller pens a delightful tale that can only come from one who loves and understands horses. He utilizes that understanding throughout his whole book, creating a character that loves her horse, Monroe, like a best friend. This creates a realistic character and one that anyone who loves horses (or animals) can identify with.

This heartwarming and beautifully illustrated story is not only entertaining, but contains some very good lessons about obedience, truthfulness, friendship, and misconceptions. Although it is marketed to the young adult audience, this is one book that can span many age groups.

This is a captivating read that is perfect for any family library. I look forward to seeing more books from Mr. Miller!

About the Author:

Bill Miller has been riding to the hounds for the over 40 years. For nearly 20 years he has been an honorary whipper-in for the Norfolk Hunt Club. Bill is also actively involved in Team Penning during the summer months. He lives on a small farm in Sherborn, Massachusetts with his wife, three horses and dog. When not working with horses, Bill is an independent film director and cinematogrpaher. His TV shows and commercials have been viewed by millions worldwide and he has won three Emmys and numerous other industry awards. He has also been widely published in trade magazines. Bill is also creative director for Spirit of the American Cowboy Foundation, a non-profit organization which raises money for pediatric cancer research.

If you would like to learn more about Mr. Miller or his work, you can visit him at:
Book website
Personal website
Facebook
Twitter
GoodReads

To see what others have to say about Mr. Miller's book, a video trailer or read an excerpt from the book, please visit the tour page.

Giveaway

Mr. Miller is offering one e-copy of his book to one lucky reader of this blog. Just fill out the form below and come back to tweet daily for more chances to win this delightful book! This contest is global.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

I received a copy of this book to read and honestly review for this tour.

Ellie's Haven (River of Hope V2) by Sharlene MacLaren

2012-02-02T08:09:00.000-05:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Sharlene MacLaren

and the book:

Ellies Haven (River of Hope V2)

Whitaker House (March 1, 2012)

***Special thanks to Cathy Hickling of Whitaker House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

“Shar” grew up in western Michigan and graduated from Spring Arbor University. After college she traveled worldwide performing with a music group and then returned home to start teaching school. She married her childhood friend, Cecil MacLaren, with whom she raised two daughters (and now has three grandchildren). After over 30 years as a teacher, Shar asked God for a new mission that would fill her heart with the same kind of passion she’d felt for teaching and raising her family. She found her mission writing Christian romance, and since 2007 has released ten novels that have earned her numerous awards and an ever-increasing base of loyal readers who are comforted, inspired, and entertained by her books.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Ellie Booth is on the run from her bootlegging stepfather whom she’d witnessed murder a man in their home state of Kentucky. Landing in Wabash, Indiana, she seeks a cover identity and hastily marries Gage Cooper, a widower with four children. Ellie quickly falls in love with the Cooper kids, and, not long after, with their father. But tensions mount when Ellie’s stepfather picks up her trail and Gage discovers his new bride hasn’t been entirely honest with him. Filled with colorful historic detail, emotional drama, and lighthearted humor, Ellie’s Haven is the action-packed follow up to Livvie’s Song in MacLaren’s River of Hope Series, set in 1920’s Wabash, Indiana.

Product Details:
List Price: $10.99

Paperback: 416 pages
Publisher: Whitaker House (March 1, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1603742131
ISBN-13: 978-1603742139

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Thou art not a God that hath pleasure in wickedness: neither shall evil dwell with thee. The foolish shall not stand in thy sight….

—Psalm 5:4–5

February 1928

Athens, Tennessee

Nothing wakes a body faster than a barking dog competing with the heated shouts of furious men. Eleanor Booth threw off her heavy quilt and leaped out of bed, pulled her flannel collar up tight around her throat, and raced across the gritty floor to the window. With her fingertips, she rubbed a circle of frost off the pane and peered out into the cold, dark morning, squinting to make out the shadowy figures that appeared to be facing off just feet away from the rotting front porch. An icy chill surged down her spine.

“I ain’t payin’ you one cent more, Sullivan. You done took me for every last penny.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Byron. Your pocket ain’t empty till I say it is, and as long as you keep producin’ hooch, the greenbacks’ll keep rollin’ in. You stop payin’, and I’ll shut you down quicker than a lizard on hot sand.”

They were at it again—Byron Pruitt, Ellie’s worthless stepfather, and Walter Sullivan, that crooked government agent. Byron’s dog, Curly, didn’t let up his fierce, frenzied barking, which ought to have deterred the dispute but seemed to fuel it instead.

“Byron,” Ellie’s mama, Rita, pleaded in a panicked tone. “Byron, pay the man so he’ll get off our property.”

“Shut up, woman, and git back inside! I ain’t payin’ ’im another dime!”

Ellie snatched her fraying robe from the foot of her bed, slipped it on, and rushed out of the room, toes gone numb from the frozen air wafting up through the floorboards. Tennessee winters didn’t generate much snow, but that didn’t stop the temperatures from plummeting into the single digits.

She entered the dark, tiny living room and found her mother standing in the open doorway, shoulders hunched, hands clutching the door frame. Her grayish-black hair was mussed every which way, and her tattered flannel nightgown hugged her narrow frame.

Ellie shot a hasty glance at the potbelly stove in the middle of the room, where nothing but a few embers glowing through the blackened glass. More shivers stampeded down her spine. “What’s goin’ on?” she asked, coming up behind her mama.

At the sound of her voice, Byron gave a half-turn, and that’s when Ellie spied the sawed-off shotgun in his arms. “Git back to bed, missy,” he groused. “You ain’t needed here.”

Walt Sullivan had a gun, too—a pistol—but he kept it holstered, one hand hovering over it.

“Byron, put that gun down before somebody gets hurt,” Ellie said firmly.

“Yeah, Pruitt. Listen to your purty li’l daughter.”

“Shut yer tater trap and git off my land, Sullivan.”

“Not till I get what’s due me.”

“I done paid you. Now, git!”

“’Fraid you paid me half.”

“You keep raisin’ the rates, you dumb ox. How you ’spect me to make any kind o’ livin’?”

Sullivan chortled. “That ain’t my concern, now, is it? I swear, if you don’t pay up, I’ll come back with my men, and we’ll turn your whole operation into mincemeat by midday.” He made the mistake of taking a step toward Byron, whether to intimidate or to show his authority, Ellie couldn’t say. She knew only that it was a mistake.

Byron raised his rifle and quickly fired off three shots, each one reaching its intended target. For a brief moment, his eyes glistened in the vanishing moonlight. Then, eyes bulging in an expression of shock, he dropped to the ground like a sack of wet cement.

Utter mayhem followed. Curly kept barking and ran circles around the fallen body, while her mama shrieked. “Byron! You—you—you’ve shot ’im. Is he dead? Oh, dear God, help us!” And Ellie, to suppress her own sobs, turned away from the body, where red fluid already oozed from mouth and nose. She clutched her stomach to keep from retching right there on the floor.

“Shut up, just shut up, both o’ you!” Byron roared. “I have to think.” With eyes flaming and nostrils flaring, he turned and started pacing.

The women kept quiet, save for the occasional gasp of air, and hugged each other. Ellie swallowed down some of the bitter juice churning in her stomach and chanced a peek over Mama’s shoulder.

Byron paused and crouched over Sullivan’s body, feeling for a pulse. He cut loose a curse. “He’s dead, all right.”

Ellie’s mama gasped and released her to cover her mouth with her hands. “Oh, mother of all things holy, Byron! What in the world have you done?”

“Shut up, I told you, ’fore I shoot you, too!” He raised his gun at her.

On impulse, Ellie leaped between them, her arms raised. “Put that gun down, you fool!” She had to tell herself to breathe.

The man’s beady eyes stared as if to bore holes through her, but he lowered his weapon. Still, she knew Byron Pruitt had no soul—she’d known since the day she’d met him—and she’d go to the grave wondering why her mama had married him after her father had died. Perhaps, she’d seen him as her only hope of surviving in the hills. Some protector he’d turned out to be, operating an illegal distillery that brought the scum of society straight to their door. If he ever turned a profit, her mama never saw it, for what he didn’t gamble away he paid in bribes to keep the authorities off his back.

“I gotta get rid o’ this body,” he muttered, sweeping five stubby fingers through his scraggly hair.

“No,” Ellie said quietly. “We have to call the sheriff.”

“Are you crazy?” he spat, stepping over the body and walking toward them, his eyes as wild as a rabid dog’s. “We ain’t callin’ no sheriff. I kilt a man, a government man, in cold blood. You think any court o’ law’s gonna let me off the hook?”

Ellie huddled close to her mama and wrapped a protective arm around her.

“W-we won’t tell,” Mama said, her whole body quivering. “We promise, Byron.”

Ellie couldn’t believe her ears. “Mama, how can you say that?”

Byron’s eyes bulged with madness as he climbed the rickety porch steps and entered the house. The worst kind of cold slithered in the door and tangled around Ellie’s ankles. “Because you two’re in this with me, that’s how she can say it. I’ll tell the cops you both played a part, that you talked me into doin’ it.” He raised the shotgun and poked the barrel into her mama’s chin, lifting it.

Ellie swallowed hard and stiffened. “Byron, don’t you dare hurt her.”

Her stepfather was a perpetual terror, always cocking a gun, sharpening a knife, or speaking not-so-veiled threats. It seemed that nothing satisfied him more than creating havoc in their little household. Byron Pruitt was a viperous lunatic, and if it hadn’t been for her beloved mama, Ellie would have left years ago.

Byron slid the muzzle up Mama’s face and held it at the center of her forehead. “I ain’t lyin’, Eleanor—if you don’t help me bury that body an’ promise to keep yer trap shut ’bout what you saw, I’ll kill yer ma.”

“You are plumb crazy,” Ellie whispered through her teeth.

“Don’t believe me?” He cocked the rifle and chortled. “I’ll blow ’er head off right now.”

Mama whimpered as a lone tear trickled down her trembling cheek.

Byron redirected the shotgun at the floor and pulled the trigger. A unison scream sounded as Ellie and her mama clutched each other and stepped away from the cloud of dust that rose from the splintered hole in the boards. Outside, Curly barked even louder, and Ellie could hear the chickens fussing in the coop.

But she heard nothing except the pounding of her own heartbeat when Byron stuck the barrel of his gun in her mama’s temple. “I’ll kill ’er, Eleanor, I swear it. You go to the cops, and she’s as good as dead. And here’s an interestin’ li’l tidbit: you workin’ alongside me at that liquor still makes you my partner in crime.” He laughed, the sound cold and hollow. “Them head beaters don’t look too kindly on us moonshiners, an’ with you bein’ one of us, well, they’re likely to lock you up tighter’n a pickle in a cannin’ jar. Just don’t forget that.”

She hated that he was right. “Fine. Just put that stupid gun down.”

He complied, but only after he’d held it in position for what seemed like another minute, an ugly sneer on his face. “Good. I’m glad we’re clear on that.” He pulled the gun strap over his shoulder. “Well, come on, then, both o’ you. We got a body to bury.”

Hours later, Ellie could barely believe she’d actually dug the grave of Walter Sullivan. Granted, she’d done it with Byron’s rifle aimed at her. Twice she’d emptied her stomach contents into the hole, only to hear the gun cock and Byron tell her to hurry up and finish before somebody came along.

Now, she watched her mama working at the stove to prepare lunch. In the living room, Byron sat in his rocker next to the fire and cleaned his gun, Ellie knew, to rid it of any traces of telltale gunpowder.

Ellie moved up beside her mama and touched her shoulder gently. “You’ve been stirrin’ this soup for fifteen minutes, Mama. Why don’t you go sit down a spell? You’re plain tuckered out.”

“What you two whisperin’ ’bout in there?” Byron barked.

“Nothin’,” Mama called back. Then, with lowered voice, she sputtered to Ellie, “You can’t stay here. You gotta leave today. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if anythin’ happened to you.”

“I can’t leave you with that maniac, Mama. He’s insane.”

“Of course you can, and you will. I’ll be fine. The minute he heads out to the barn, I want you to grab whatever you need and then skedaddle across the field to the Meyers’ house, you hear? Ask Burt to drive you down the mountain. He’ll do it.”

“What you two blabberin’ about?”

Byron’s brusque voice in the hallway had Ellie whirling on her heel. “Nothin’, just like Mama said. Go sit down. Your lunch is ready.”

“Humph. You best not be plannin’ to run off anywheres,” he grumbled before shuffling off to the table. Ellie caught the smell of his breath, and her stomach lurched, though she should have been accustomed to the stench of whiskey by now, considering the hours she’d worked at the still, where the air was saturated with mash. She would always associate the odor with Byron—and his shotgun, which was the only thing that had kept her working there.

The legs of his chair scraped against the sooty floor as he scooted in closer to the table, his back to them. With an icy chortle, he muttered, “You two don’t got nowheres to go, anyway.”

Three hours later, Ellie bumped along in the backseat of a Model T driven by Burt Meyer. Mildred, his wife of forty years, sat up front with him. Quiet tears dampened Ellie’s face as Burt maneuvered the automobile, its brakes squealing in protest, down a narrow pass.

She’d had no more than minutes to throw a few belongings into a little suitcase, hug her mama good-bye, and then sprint along the worn path across the cornfield. Mama had given her strict orders to locate her deceased husband’s aunt in Wabash, Indiana, and not to send word to her for at least a month, and then only through Burt and Mildred. “We can trust them,” she’d said as she’d helped her pack, Ellie crying all the while. “Don’t tell them where you’re goin’, though, and when you write to me, put the letter inside a small envelope and then tuck that inside a bigger one. Put your return address on the inside letter, never the outside one, you understand? The less information Burt ’n’ Mildred know, the better off they’ll be. They’re good people. I don’t want them gettin’ involved in this mess, other than to drive you to the train station.”

“You sure you want to leave your ma?” Mildred asked, bringing Ellie’s attention back to the present. The woman turned around and looked her in the eye. “You seem awful broke up ’bout leavin’, honey.”

Ellie wiped her cheeks and nodded. “I’m nineteen. High time I make my own way.”

“And get away from that fool stepfather o’ yours,” Burt muttered. “Too bad Rita didn’t leave with you.”

Mildred glared at her husband. “Now, Burt, that ain’t none of our concern,” she scolded him gruffly. When she was facing front again, Ellie heard her add, “Even if you’re right.” In a louder voice, she said, “We’re goin’ to miss you somethin’ fierce, Eleanor. Always did love it when you came across the field to visit us.”

“And brought them scrumptious pies with you,” Burt tacked on. “Won’t be the same up on West Peak with you gone.” He glanced back at her and winked. “Where you travelin’ to, if you don’t mind my askin’?”

“I…I plan to head north, look for a job. Not quite sure just where yet.” She could at least tell them that much.

Mildred turned around again, her brow wrinkled in concern. “You don’t got a plan, Eleanor? Why, we cain’t just drop you off if you don’t have no sort o’ arrangements.”

“Sure you can,” Ellie said, forcing brightness into her tone. She wiped away the last of her tears. “I need to break out o’ my cocoon.”

“Darlin’, if you want to break out, why don’t you go south? It’s so blamed cold up north.”

“Daddy has an aunt I’m plannin’ to stay with.” She regretted the disclosure immediately, but it did seem that they deserved an explanation of sorts. They’d always been so kind to Mama and her.

“Say no more,” Burt spoke up. “Long as you’ll be safe, that’s enough for Mildred and me.”

“He ain’t a good sort, that Byron Pruitt,” Mildred said, as if she knew that he had something to do with Ellie’s departure.

Ellie determined to purse her lips for the rest of the trip, lest some hint of the sordid murder slip past them. Best to keep it buried in the deepest parts of her soul.

My Thoughts:

"Ellie's Haven" is book 2 of the River of Hope series, but can easily be read as a stand alone. It is a page turner from the beginning, quickly drawing in and captivating the reader from the start!

I enjoyed the whole story and loved both of the main characters, Ellie and Gage. Ellie is young but abuse has made her a strong woman that doesn't give up easily. If she doesn't know how to do something, she doesn't let on, but learns quickly. That's how she landed her job/marriage - she told Gage she raised lots of kids, but didn't let on what kind of kids she raised.

Gage lost his wife not long after she had her last child. He had trouble finding someone that would stay and take care of his children. His children were too much of a handful to keep the help around. That's when he decided to put an advertisement out for a wife. He decided she would at least have a vested interest in staying.

When Ellie applied for the job, Gage thought she was too young, but ended up marrying her out of need of a child care provider. That's when the fun begins!!

This novel was full of humor, faith, love of God, and healing and was an enjoyable read. It had me chuckling in many places and on the edge of my seat in others. I haven't read the first book "Livvie's Song" yet, but it has definitely made my must-read list. Sharlene MacLaren has a style of writing that I thoroughly enjoyed!

Four Letter Words by Dr. Bill Giovannetti

2012-02-02T00:05:00.000-05:00

Four Letter Words
Author: Dr. Bill Giovannetti
Publisher: Endurant Press (September 26, 2011)
ISBN-13: 978-0983681267
Paperback: 208 pages

About Four Letter Words:

Thou shalt tolerate every opinion... except the Christian's. Today's postmodern "prime directive" leaves many followers of Jesus tongue-tied. In the global village, isn't it unreasonable, and even dangerous, to suggest that the Bible has a monopoly on truth?

The church needs a new breed of Christ-follower. We need Christ-followers who are alert to today's touchy ideas, the truths that fire up more heat than light. We need Christ-followers who can make a clear case for the Bible's worldview; who are ready to help our friends think through their beliefs; who can recognize inconsistencies and challenge them; and who can do all of this with humility, confidence, humor, and love. For more information visit http://fourletterwords.org.

You can purchase this book at Amazon

My Thoughts:

Four Letter Words is a powerful book - one that will make you take notice and could ruffle a few feathers. Dr. Bill Giovannetti doesn't mince words and puts things out there for one to look at and think about. He deals with "touchy" subjects that most Christians won't or can't discuss with non-believers. Dr. Giovannetti addresses how to handle these subjects and stand up for what one believes in.

This book is targeted to Christian youth, however, I would suggest that it is more appropriate for high school teens and college students. His conversations and methods of logic are geared for the older teen. There is also a section on sex that may not be deemed appropriate for the younger sect. This book should be read by the parent for content and then read with the teen. There are many, many great discussions that can be had by a parent and teen going through this book together. There are even questions and a great guide in the back that can help both through a fantastic study.

I was very pleased to see the church and post-modernism being discussed. This is one area I've been having some problems with - and now that my daughter is in college, she is attending a church that is caught up in the experiences and not giving the instruction and guidance that is needed. This is just one of the many subjects that Dr. Giovannetti tackles and he certainly has had my head nodding in agreement as I read.

One thing I liked, but at the same time didn't like, was the links to the website in the book. One can go to the website and download and read many great things. This couldn't be done on my e-reader, and I had to sit at the PC and do it all online. That didn't thrill me too much and I find it difficult reading online for any length of time. It would have been much better if we had one of those awesome iPhones as it can be done using them. Unfortunately, we don't have one, so I was tied to my PC to follow the links.

Overall - this is a fantastic book and amazing tool that can be used to really discuss and help solidify your teens' beliefs before they strike out into the world.

About the Author:

Dr. Bill Giovannetti is a professor at A.W. Tozer Theological Seminary and the senior pastor of Neighborhood Church of Redding. An experienced speaker and author, Bill informs the mind in ways that touch the heart. He enjoys life with his wife and two kids in northern California. For more information about Bill and his other books, visit http://maxgrace.wordpress.com and http://fourletterwords.org.

About the Giveaway:

Bill is celebrating the new Kindle edition of Four Letter Words (for only $4.99)! He’ll be traveling coast to coast over the next few weeks on this virtual book tour and he's celebrating by hosting a great giveaway!

Click here to find out how you can win two gift certificates to Amazon (in the amount of $50 and $25) and free downloads of his yet-to-be-released title, Recession-Proof: Living a God-Blessed Life in a Messed Up World.

Get "The whole scoop" here: http://fourletterwords.org/2012/01/contest-giveaway/

Make sure to visit others on the Blog Tour to see what they have to say about Four Letter Words.

I received an e-copy of this book to read and honestly review for this tour.

Everything Romance: A Celebration of Love for Couples by David Bordon and Tom Winters

2012-02-01T06:54:00.000-05:00

Today's Wild Card authors are:

David Bordon and Tom Winters

and the book:

Everything Romance: A Celebration of Love for Couples

WaterBrook Press (December 20, 2011)

***Special thanks to Ashley Boyer, Publicist, WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group of for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHORS:

David Bordon and Tom Winters are partners in Bordon-Winters, LLC, a book concept and packaging company that produces successful books and gift products. Among their previous titles are the popular “101 Things You Should Do” series. This volume joins another one of their beautiful gift books, Everything Christmas.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Everything Romance is a gift book overflowing with heartwarming ideas to keep that special relationship fresh and exciting. Whether you’re a newlywed or celebrating 40 years of wedded bliss, this book offers a treasury of ways to capture your love’s heart daily. Love letters, inexpensive date night suggestions, tantalizing recipes, conversation starters, and inspiring love stories will all help you romance the love of your life in creative and meaningful ways!

Product Details:
List Price: $14.99

Hardcover: 288 pages
Publisher: WaterBrook Press (December 20, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0307729311
ISBN-13: 978-0307729316

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

A Marriage Blessing

Most gracious God, we give You thanks for Your tender love in sending Jesus Christ to come among us, to be born of a human mother, and to make the way of the cross to be the way of life.

We thank You, also, for consecrating the union of man and woman in His name. By the power of Your Holy Spirit, pour out the abundance of Your blessing upon this man and this woman. Defend them from every enemy. Lead them into all peace. Let their love for each other be a seal upon their hearts, a mantle about their shoulders, and a crown upon their foreheads. Bless them in their work and in their companionship; in their sleeping and in their waking; in their joys and in their sorrows; in their life and in their death. Finally, in Your mercy, bring them to that table where Your saints feast forever in Your heavenly home; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with You and the Holy Spirit, lives and reigns, one God, forever and ever.

Amen.
(from The Book of Common Prayer)

PERFECT PAIR PIZZA-PITA SNACKS

2 whole-wheat pita breads
4 teaspoons basil pesto
1 cup cottage cheese
2 tablespoons Roma tomatoes, chopped
2 teaspoons fresh basil, chopped
Fresh Parmesan cheese (optional)

Toast pita breads until they are crispy and firm. Spread half of the pesto on each pita. Next, spread half of the cottage
cheese on each pita. Top with chopped tomato and fresh basil. If desired, sprinkle with fresh grated parmesan cheese. Slice each pita into two or four wedges and enjoy!

Romance Trivia

A team of medical experts in Virginia contends that you’re more likely to catch the common cold virus by shaking hands than by kissing.

Excerpted from Everything Romance by David Bordon and Thomas J. Winters Copyright © 2011 by David Bordon and Thomas J. Winters. Excerpted by permission of WaterBrook Press, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

My Thoughts:

A book that I find myself returning to again and again, "Everything Romance" is a must for any library. It is full of romantic ideas, recipes, trivia, stories, prayers, and lots of other ways to inspire romance - something everyone can use. Designed to be read in little "bursts", this book is one that should be left in a place that's easy to pick up - like the coffee table.

After reading "Everything Romance", I realized that after all our years of being married, I've fallen into a rut and not done the "special things" for my husband that I used to when we were first married. Now, I'm putting more effort into those little things and it is being noticed. It has given our marriage that jump-start that was needed. Who knew that a little book could inspire and point out things that I had forgotten along the way - like romance!

This little book is a lovely addition to any couple's library. It would make a great gift for weddings, anniversaries, Valentine's Day, or just a wonderful treat for yourself. This book comes highly recommended, but be warned - your marriage won't be the same after reading this book!

Never the Same by B. C. Fleming

2012-01-31T10:29:00.000-05:00

Never the Same
Author: B. C. Fleming
Published 2011 by Fleming Continuing Education Programs
ISBN: 139780692004074
Paperback, 170 pages
Genre: Non-fiction

About the Book:

On one calm morning in late July 2006, a ten vehicle convoy departed its Forward Operating Base in southeastern Afghanistan. Destination: KANDAHAR. Less than five hours later one soldier awoke, burned and bloody, in a ditch on the side of the road.

This is the story of Sergeant B.C. Fleming. A Team Leader in a Reconnaissance Platoon with the US Army's 10th Mountain Division, Fleming recounts his grueling experience of waging war in the high-desert mountains of Afghanistan. From being shot at to getting blown up TWICE to delivering humanitarian aid to impoverished children, he candidly describes "the real story" of the war in Afghanistan as he experienced it.

His story is one of truth, pain, sacrifice, soul-searching, and the unthinkable adversity American troops overcome daily in order to protect and defend the American people.

Make sure to stop by B&B Media's blog and read their interview with B. C. Fleming.

My Thoughts:

Every American should read this amazing and inpsirational book! It takes the reader through the life-changing events of one outstanding individual and a true hero, Brian Fleming.

Brian tells about his decision to accept God's plan for him, his marriage and then his decision to enter the Army and how following God's plan for him has defined his life. Surviving 2 bombings, Brian traveled a horrendous road back from being badly burned and now travels and helps other surviving war trauma.

This book is not for the faint of heart. Brian puts it right out there - telling it matter-of-factually and takes the reader through the horrors of what he dealt with - physical pain, emotions and feelings and the trauma that took a tole on himself as well as his family when he returned from Afghanistan.

This is an amazing story of faith, love, gratitude, healing and finding one's own purpose. Make sure to add this incredible book to your list of must-reads for this year. Brian's story is nothing less than amazing!

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!

About the Author:

B.C. Fleming has rapidly emerged as a symbol of perseverance and unconditional victory among 21st century combat-veterans. His is a face of hope and promise, survival and success. Having been blown up twice while fighting the war in Afghanistan, he overcame the odds and lived to tell about it. With wisdom and perspective beyond his years, Fleming is dedicated to seeing others succeed in the midst of their own challenges.

If you would like to learn more about the author or his work, please stop by his website at: http://www.blownupguy.com/

I received a copy of this book to read and honestly review for this tour.

Threads of Hope (Fabric of Time) by Andrea Boeshaar

2012-01-31T03:00:00.000-05:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Andrea Boeshaar

and the book:

Threads of Hope
(Fabric of Time)

Realms (January 3, 2012)

***Special thanks to Jon Wooten of Charisma House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Andrea Kuhn Boeshaar is a certified Christian life coach; a popular speaker at writers’ conferences, workshops, and women’s groups; and the author of numerous published books, including the Seasons of Redemption series: Unwilling Warrior, Uncertain Heart, Unexpected Love, and Undaunted Faith.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Kristin Eikaas has her hopes set on a new life in America.

The year is 1848, and Kristin Eikaas has traveled from Norway to Wisconsin with dreams of a new life. But when she arrives, she finds one disappointment after another. Worse, her superstitious uncle now believes that his neighbor’s Oneida Indian wife has put a curse on Kristin. Everyone knows the Sundbergs put spells on people…

Everyone except Kristin. Her run-ins with Sam Sundberg only prove that he is a good man from a Christian family. But when her uncle discovers she’s been associating with Sam, his temper flares. To escape his wrath, Kristin gratefully accepts a job as the Sundbergs’ house girl, finding solace at the family’s spinning wheel.

In the time Sam and Kristin spend together, their friendship develops into much more, and Sam prays about a match between them. But opposition threatens to derail their newfound love. Will they have the courage to stand up for what is right—even against their own families?

Product Details:

List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 304 pages

Publisher: Realms (January 3, 2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1616384972

ISBN-13: 978-1616384975

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

September 1848
It looks like Norway.
The thought flittered across nineteen-year-old Kristin Eikaas’s mind as Uncle Lars’s wagon bumped along the dirt road. The docks of Green Bay, Wisconsin, were behind them, and now they rode through a wooded area that looked just as enchanting as the forests she’d left in Norway. Tall pine trees and giant firs caused the sunshine to dapple on the road. Kristin breathed in the sweet, fresh air. How refreshing it felt in her lungs after being at sea for nearly three months and breathing in only salty sea air or the stale air in her dark, crowded cabin.
A clearing suddenly came into view, and a minute or so later, Kristin eyed the farm fields stretched before her. The sight caused an ache of homesickness. Her poppa had farmed . . .
“Your trip to America was good, ja?” Uncle Lars asked in Norwegian, giving Kristin a sideways glance.
He resembled her father so much that her heart twisted painfully with renewed grief. Except she’d heard about Onkel—about his temper—how he had to leave Norway when he was barely of age, because, Poppa had said, trouble followed him.
But surely he’d grown past all of that. His letters held words of promise, and there was little doubt that her uncle had made a new life for himself here in America.
Just as she would.
Visions of a storefront scampered across her mind’s eye—a shop in which she could sell her finely crocheted and knitted items. A shop in which she could work the spinning wheel, just as Mor had . . .
Uncle Lars arched a brow. “You are tired, liten niese?”
“Ja. It was a long journey.” Kristin sent him a sideways glance.
“I am grateful I did not come alone. The Olstads made good traveling companions.”
Her uncle cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “But you have brought my inheritance, ja?” He arched a brow.
“Ja.” Kristin thought of the priceless possession she’d brought from Norway.
“And you would not hold out on your onkel, would you?”
Prickles of unease caused Kristin to shift in her seat. She resisted the urge to touch the tiny gold and silver cross pendent suspended from a dainty chain that hung around her neck. Her dress concealed it. She couldn’t give it up, even though it wasn’t legal for a woman to inherit anything in Norway. But the necklace had been her last gift from Mor. A gift from one’s mother wasn’t an inheritance . . . was it? “No, Onkel.”
She turned and peered down from her perch into the back of the wooden wagon bed. Peder Olstad smiled at her, and Kristin relaxed some. Just a year older, he was the brother of Kristin’s very best friend who had remained in Norway with their mother. She and Peder had grown up together, and while he could be annoying and bad tempered at times, he was the closest thing to a brother that she had. And Sylvia—Sylvia was closer than a sister ever could be. It wouldn’t be long, and she and Mrs. Olstad would come to America too. That would be a
happy day!
“You were right,” John Olstad called to Uncle Lars in their native tongue. “Lots of fertile land in this part of the country. I hope to purchase some acres soon.”
“And after you are a landowner for five years, you can be a citizen of America and you can vote.” The Olstad men smiled broadly and replied in unison. “Oh, ja, ja . . . ”
Uncle Lars grinned, causing dozens of wrinkles to appear around his blue eyes. His face was tanned from farming beneath the hot sun, and his tattered leather hat barely concealed the abundance of platinum curls growing out of his large head. “Oh, ja, this is very good land. I am glad I persuaded Esther to leave the Muskego settlement and move northeast. But, as you will soon see, we are still getting settled.”
“Ja, how’s that, Lars?”
Kristin heard the note of curiosity in Mr. Olstad’s voice.
“I purchased the land and built a barn and a cabin.” He paused and gave a derisive snort. “Well, a fine home takes time and money.”
“Oh, ja, that way.” Mr. Olstad seemed to understand.
And Kristin did too. One couldn’t expect enormous comforts out in the Wisconsin wilderness.
Just then they passed a stately home situated on the Fox River. Two quaint dormers peered from the angled roof, which appeared to be supported by a pair of white pillars.
“That is Mr. Morgan Martin’s home. He is a lawyer in town.”
Uncle Lars delivered the rest of his explanation with a sneer. “And an Indian agent.”
“Indians?” Kristin’s hand flew to her throat.
“Do not fret. The soldiers across the river at Fort Howard protect the area.”
Kristin forced her taut muscles to relax.
“Out here the deer are plentiful and fishing is good. Fine lumber up here too. But the Norwegian population is small. Nevertheless, we have our own church, and the reverend speaks our language.”
“A good thing,” Mr. Olstad remarked.
“I cannot wait for the day when Far owns land,” Peder said, glancing at Mr. Olstad. “Lots of land.” The warm wind blew his auburn hair outward from his narrow face, and his hazel eyes sparked with enthusiasm, giving the young man a somewhat wild appearance. “But no farming for me. I want to be rich someday.”
“As do we all!” exclaimed Mr. Olstad, whose appearance was an older, worn-out version of his son’s.
Kristin’s mind had parked on land ownership. “And once you are settled, Sylvia will come to America. I cannot wait. I miss her so much.”
She grappled with a fresh onset of tears. Not only was Sylvia her best friend, but she and the entire Olstad clan had also become like family to her ever since a smallpox epidemic ravaged their little village two years ago, claiming the lives of Kristin’s parents and two younger brothers. When Uncle Lars had learned of the tragic news, he offered her a place to stay in his home if she came to America. Onkel wrote that she should be with her family, so Kristin had agreed to make the voyage. Her plans to leave Norway had encouraged the Olstads to do
the same. But raising the funds to travel took time and much hard work. While the Olstads scrimped and saved up their crop earnings, Kristin did spinning, weaving, knitting, and sewing for those with money to spare. By God’s grace, they were finally here.
Uncle Lars steered the wagon around a sharp bend in the rutty road. He drove to the top of a small hill, and Kristin could see the blue Lake Michigan to her left and farm fields to her right.
Then a lovely white wood-framed house came into view. It didn’t look all that different from the home they’d just past, with dormers, a covered front porch, and stately pillars bearing the load of a wide overhang. She marveled at the homestead’s large, well-maintained barn and several outbuildings. American homes looked like this? Then no wonder Mr. Olstad couldn’t wait to own his own farm!
Up ahead Kristin spied a lone figure of a man. She could just barely make out his faded blue cambric shirt, tan trousers, and the hoe in his hands as he worked the edge of the field. Closer still, she saw his light brown hair springing out from beneath his hat. As the wagon rolled past him, the man ceased his labor and turned their way. Although she couldn’t see his eyes as he squinted into the sunshine, Kristin did catch sight of his tanned face. She guessed his age to be not too much more than hers and decided he was really quite handsome.
“Do not even acknowledge the likes of him,” Uncle Lars spat derisively. “Good Christians do not associate with Sam Sundberg or any members of his family.”
Oh, dear, too late! Kristin had already given him a little smile out of sheer politeness. She had assumed he was a friend or neighbor. But at her uncle’s warning she quickly lowered her gaze.
Kristin’s ever-inquiring nature got the best of her. “What is so bad about that family?”
“They are evil—like the Martins. Even worse, Karl Sundberg is married to a heathen Indian woman who casts spells on the good people of this community.”
“Spells?” Peder’s eyes widened.
“Ja, spells. Why else would some folks’ crops fail while Karl’s flourish? He gets richer and richer with his farming in the summer, his logging camps in the winter, and his fur trading with heathens, while good folks like me fall on hard times.”
“Hard times?” Peder echoed the words.
“Ja, same seed. Same fertile ground. Same golden opportunity.”
Uncle Lars swiveled to face the Olstads. “I will tell you why that happens. The Sundbergs have hexed good Christians like me.” He wagged his head. “Oh, they are an evil lot, those Sundbergs and Martins. Same as the Indians.”
Indians? Curiosity got the better of her, and Kristin swung around in the wagon to get one last glimpse of Sam Sundberg. She could hardly believe he was as awful as her uncle described. Why, he even removed his hat just now and gave her a cordial nod.
“Turn around, niese, and mind your manners!” Uncle Lars’s large hand gripped her upper arm and he gave her a mild shake.
“I . . . I am sorry, Onkel,” Kristin stammered. “But I have never seen an Indian.”
“Sam Sundberg is not an Indian. It is his father’s second wife and their children. Oneida half-breeds is what we call them.”
“Half-breed, eh?”
Kristin glanced over her shoulder and saw Peder stroke his chin.
“Interesting,” he added.
“How very interesting.” Kristin couldn’t deny her interest was piqued. “Are there many Indians living in the Wisconsin Territory?”
“Ja, they trespass on my land, but I show my gun and they leave without incident. Sundberg brings his Indian wife to church.” He wagged his head. “Such a disgrace.”
“And the Territory officials do nothing?” Mr. Olstad asked.
Uncle Lars puffed out his chest. “As of three months ago, we are the State of Wisconsin—no longer a territory.” Uncle Lars stated the latter with as much enthusiasm as a stern schoolmaster. “Now the government will get rid of those savages once and for all.” He sent Kristin a scowl. “And you, my liten niese, will do well to stay away from Indians. All of them, including our neighbors, the Sundbergs. You hear, lest you get yourself scalped.”
“Ja, Onkel.”
With a measure of alarm, Kristin touched her braided hair and chanced a look at Peder and Mr. Olstad. Both pairs of wide eyes seemed to warn her to heed Uncle Lars’s instructions. She would, of course. But somehow she couldn’t imagine the man they’d just passed doing her any harm. Would he?

Sam Sundberg wiped the beads of perspiration off his brow before dropping his hat back on his head. Who was the little blonde riding next to Lars Eikaas? Sam hadn’t seen her before. And the men in the wagon bed . . . he’d never seen them either.
After a moment’s deliberation he concluded they were the expected arrivals from the “Old Country.” Months ago Sam recalled hearing talk in town about Lars’s orphaned niece sailing to America with friends of the family, so he assumed the two red-haired men and the young lady were the topics of that particular conversation. But wouldn’t it just serve Mr. Eikaas right if that blonde angel turned his household upside down—or, maybe, right-side up?
He smirked at the very idea. Sam didn’t have to meet that young lady to guess Mr. Eikaas would likely have his hands full. Her second backward glance said all Sam needed to know.
The word plucky sprang into his mind. He chuckled. Plucky she
seemed, indeed.
But was she wise enough not to believe everything her uncle said?
Sam thought it a real shame. Years ago Pa and Lars Eikaas had been friends. But then Pa’s silver went missing, insults were traded, and the Eikaases’ prejudice against Ma, Jackson, and Mary kept the feud alive.
The Eikaas wagon rolled out of sight, leaving brown clouds of dust in its wake. A grin threatened as Sam thought again of that plucky blonde’s curious expression. Maybe she did have a mind of her own. Now wouldn’t that be something? Sam thanked God that not everyone around here was as intolerant of Wisconsin Natives as the Eikaas family. There were those who actually befriended the Indians and stood up to government officials in their stead. Like Pa, for instance. Like Sam himself.
The blistering sun beat down on him. Removing his hat once more, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He started pondering the latest government proposal to remove the Indians from their land. First the Oneida tribe had been forced out, and soon the Menominee band would be “removed” and “civilized.” As bad as that was, it irked Sam more to think about how the government figured it knew best for the Indians. Government plans hadn’t succeeded in the past, so why would they now? Something else had to be done. Relocating the Menominee would cause those people nothing but misery. They’d stated as much themselves. Furthermore, the Indians, led by Chief Oshkosh, were determined not to give up their last tract of land. Sam predicted this current government proposal would only serve to stir up more violence between Indians and whites.
But not if he and Pa could help it.
In the distance he heard the clang of the dinner bell. Ma didn’t like him to tarry when food was on the table. Across the beet field, Sam saw his younger brother run on ahead of him. He wagged his head at the twelve-year-old and his voracious appetite.
With one calloused hand gripping the hoe and the other holding the bushel basket, Sam trudged toward their white clapboard home. Its two dormers protruded proudly from the second floor.
Entering the mudroom, he fetched cold water from the inside well, peeled off his hat, and quickly washed up. Next he donned a fresh shirt. Ma insisted upon cleanliness at the supper table. Finally presentable, he made his way into the basement where the summer kitchen and a small eating area were located. The cool air met his sun-stoked skin and Sam sighed, appreciating the noonday respite.
Next he noticed a cake in the middle of the table.
“That looks good enough to eat,” he teased, resisting the urge to steal a finger-full of white frosting.
Ma gave him a smile, and her nut-brown eyes darkened as she set the wooden tureen of turkey and wild rice onto the table. “Since it’s Rachel’s last day with us, I thought I would prepare an extra special dessert.”
Sam glanced across the table at the glowing bride-to-be. In less than twenty-four hours Rachel Decker would become Mrs. Luke Smith. But for the remainder of today she’d fulfill her duties as Ma’s hired house girl who helped with the cooking, cleaning, sewing, washing, and ironing whenever Ma came down with one of her episodes, which were sometimes so intensely painful that Ma couldn’t get out of bed without help. Rachel had been both a comfort and an efficient assistant to Ma.
“I helped bake the cake, Sam.”
He grinned at his ten-year-old sister, Mary. “Good job.”
They all sat down, Mary taking her seat beside Rachel. Sam helped his mother into her place at the head of the table then lowered himself into his chair next to Jackson, who’d been named after Major General Andrew Jackson, the seventh president of this great country.
“Sam, since your father is away,” Ma began, “will you please ask God’s blessing on our food?”
“Be glad to.” He bowed his head. “Dearest Lord, we thank Thee for Thy provisions. Strengthen and nourish us with this meal so we may glorify Thee with our labors. In Jesus’s name, amen.”
Action ensued all around the table. The women served themselves and then between Sam and Jack, they scraped the bowl clean.
“Good thing Pa’s not home from his meetings in town,” Jack muttered with a crooked grin.
“If your father were home,” Ma retorted, “I would have made more food.”
“Should have made more anyhow.” Jack gave her a teasing grin. “No seconds.” He clanged the bowl and spoon together as if to prove his point.
“You have seconds on your plate already,” Ma said. “Why, I have never seen anyone consume as much food as you do, Jackson.”
His smile broadened. “I’m growing. Soon I’ll be taller than Sam.”
“Brotherly competition.” Sam had to chuckle. But in the next moment, he wondered if his family behaved oddly. Didn’t all families enjoy meals together? Tease and laugh together? Tell stories once the sun went down? According to Rachel, they didn’t. The ebony-haired, dark-eyed young woman had grown up without a mother and had a drunkard for a father . . . until Ma got wind of the situation and took her in. She invited Rachel to stay in the small room adjacent to the kitchen and offered her a job. Rachel had accepted. And now, years later, Rachel would soon marry a fine man, Luke Smith, a friend of Sam’s.
Taking a bite of his meal, he chewed and looked across the table at Mary. Both she and Jack resembled their mother, dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and graceful, willowy frames, while Sam took after his father, blue eyes and stocky build, measuring just under six feet. Yet, in spite of the outward dissimilarities, the five Sundbergs were a closely knit family, and Sam felt grateful that he’d known nothing but happiness throughout
his childhood. He had no recollection whatsoever of his biological mother who had taken ill and died during the voyage from Norway to America.
Sam had been but a toddler when she went home to be with the Lord, and soon after disembarking in New York, his father met another Norwegian couple. They helped care for Sam and eventually persuaded Pa to take his young son and move with them to Wisconsin, known back then as part of the “Michigan Territory.” Pa seized the opportunity, believing the promises that westward expansion touted, and he was not disappointed.
He learned to plant, trap, and trade with the Indians, and he became a successful businessman. In time, he saved enough funds to make his dreams of owning land and farming a reality.
Then, when Sam was a boy of eight years, his father met and married Mariah, an Oneida. Like her, many Oneida were Christians and fairly well educated due to the missionaries who had lived among them. In time Sam took to his new mother, and she to him. Through the years Ma cherished and admonished him as though he were her own son. She learned the Norwegian language and could speak it fluently. As far as Sam was concerned, he was her own son—and Mariah, his own mother.
They were a family.
“Was that the Eikaas wagon driving by not long ago?” Mary asked.
Sam snapped from his musing. “Sure was. It appears they have relatives in town.”
“Mr. Eikaas didn’t stop and visit, did he?” Mary’s eyes were as round as gingersnaps.
Sam chuckled. “No, of course not. I can’t recall the last time Lars Eikaas spoke to me . . . or any of the Sundbergs, for that matter.”
“Erik is nice to me at school.” Mary took a bite of her meal.
“Glad to hear it.”
“I can’t wait to begin school next week.”
Sam grinned at his sister’s enthusiasm. He’d felt the same way as a boy.
“Sam, what made you assume Mr. Eikaas transported relatives in his wagon today?”
He glanced at Ma. “A while back I’d heard that Lars’s niece was coming to America, accompanied by friends, and since I didn’t recognize the three passengers in the wagon this morning, I drew my own conclusions.”
“Is she pretty?” Jackson’s cheeks bulged with food.
“Is who pretty?”
“Mr. Eikaas’s niece . . . is she pretty?”
Sam recalled the plucky blonde whose large, cornflower-blue eyes looked back at him with interest from beneath her bonnet. And pretty? As much as Sam hated to admit it, she was about the prettiest young lady he’d ever set eyes on.
Jackson elbowed him. “Hey, I asked you a question.”
Sam gave his younger brother an annoyed look. “Yeah, I s’pose she’s pretty. But don’t go getting any big ideas about me courting her. She’s an Eikaas.”
“You’re awful old to not be married yet.” Jack rolled his dark eyes.
“What do you know about it? I’m only twenty-one.” Sam grinned. “Hush up and eat.” It’s what the boy did best. “So . . . did everyone have a pleasant morning?” He forked another bite of food into his mouth, wondering why he tried so hard to shift the subject off of Lars Eikaas’s niece.

Kristin looked around the one-room shanty with its unhewn walls and narrow, bowed loft. Cotton squares of material covered the windows, making the heat inside nearly unbearable.
Disappointment riddled her being like buckshot. Although she knew she should feel grateful for journeying safely this far, and now to have a roof over her head, she couldn’t seem to shake her displeasure at seeing her relatives’ living quarters. It looked nothing like her uncle had described in his letters nor the homes she’d glimpsed on the way.
“Here is your trunk of belongings,” Uncle Lars said, carrying the wooden chest in on one of his broad shoulders. With a grunt, he set it down in the far corner of the cabin. “Where is my inheritance? Let me have a look at it.”
“Right now, Onkel?”
“Ja, ja . . .” Impatience filled his tone.
Pulling open the drawstring of her leather purse, she reached inside and extracted the key. She unlocked the trunk and opened its curved lid. Getting onto her knees, Kristin moved aside her clothes and extra shoes until she found what she searched for. Poppa’s gold watch. She held the black velvet-covered box reverently in her hands for one last, long moment before she stood and presented it to her uncle.
“This belonged to my poppa.”
“Ah . . .” Uncle Lars’s face lit up with delight as he opened the box. Looking to Aunt Esther, he nodded. “This will bring a fair price, do you think?”
Disbelief poured over her. “But . . . you would not sell Poppa’s watch, would you?”
“None of your business!”
Kristin jumped back at the biting reply. Her opinion of her uncle dropped like a rock into a cavern.
“Anything more?” Her uncle bent over the wooden chest and quickly rummaged through it, spilling clothes onto the unswept floor.
“Onkel, please, stop. My garments . . .”
“Does not seem to be anything else.” Uncle Lars narrowed his gaze. “Is there?”
“No.” The necklace Mor had given her burned against her already perspiring skin. Still, Kristin refused to part with the gift. “Nothing more. As you know, Poppa was a farmer. He supplemented his income by working at the post office, but no money was ever saved. After my parents died, I sold everything to help pay for a portion of my passage to America. I earned the rest myself.”
“Any money left?”
Kristin shook her head as she picked up the last of her belongings, careful not to meet her uncle’s stare. A little money remained in the special pocket she’d sewn into her petticoat. For safety, she’d kept her funds on her person throughout the entire voyage. The last of her coinage would purchase muchneeded undergarments. She’d managed to save it throughout the journey for the specific purpose of buying new foundations when she reached America. It wasn’t inherited. She’d worked hard for it.
With a grunt Uncle Lars turned and sauntered out of the cabin.
“You will sleep in the loft with your cousins.” Aunt Esther’s tone left no room for questions or argument. Wearing a plain, brown dress with a tan apron pinned to its front, and with her dark brown hair tightly pinned into a bun, the older woman looked as drab as her surroundings. “Your uncle and I sleep on a pallet by the hearth.”
“Yes, Tante. I am sure I will be very comfortable.” Another lie.
“Come, let us eat.” Aunt Esther walked toward the hearth where a heavy black kettle sat on top of a low-burning fire. “There is venison stew for our meal.”
“It sounds delicious.” Kristin’s stomach growled in anticipation. She’d eaten very little on the ship this morning. Excitement plus the waves on Lake Michigan made eating impossible. But after disembarking in Green Bay, her stomach began to settle, and now she was famished.
Aunt Esther called everyone to the table, which occupied an entire corner of the cabin. Her three children, two girls and one boy, ranging in ages from seven to sixteen, came in from outside, as did the Olstads. After a wooden bowl filled with stew was set before each person, the family clasped hands and recited a standard Norwegian prayer . . .
I Jesu navn gar vi til bords,—We sit down in the name of Jesus,
Spise drikke pa ditt ord,—To eat and drink according to Your
Word,
Deg Gud til are, oss til gavn,—To Your honor, Oh Lord, and
for our benefit,
Sa far vi mat i Jesu navn.—We receive food in the name of
Jesus.
Amen.
Having said grace, hands were released, and everyone picked up a spoon and began to eat. Kristin noticed her cousins, Inga and Anna, eyeing her with interest. They resembled their father, blonde curls and blue eyes.
“What do you like to do on sunny afternoons such as this one?” she asked cheerfully, hoping to start conversation. After all, Inga’s age was close to hers. Perhaps her cousin would help her meet friends.
“We do not talk at the table,” Aunt Esther informed her. “We eat, not talk.”
“Yes, Tante.” Kristin glanced at Peder and Mr. Olstad who replied with noncommittal shrugs and kept eating.
Silently, Kristin did the same. The Olstads always had lively discussions around their table.
When the meal ended, the girls cleared the table and the men took young Erik and ambled outside.
“May I help with cleaning up?” Kristin asked her aunt.
“No. You rest today and regain your strength. Tomorrow we are invited to a wedding, the day after is the Sabbath. Then beginning on Monday, you will labor from sunup to sunset like everyone else in this place.”
“Except for one,” Inga quipped. No one but Kristin heard.
“Who?” Her lips moved, although she didn’t utter a sound.
“Far, that is who.” Disrespect seeped from Inga’s tone, which was loud and clear.
Hadn’t Aunt Esther overheard it?
Tante suddenly whirled around and glared at Kristin. “Do something with yourself. We are working here.”
With a frown, Kristin backed away. Her aunt’s brusque manner caused her to feel weary and more homesick than
ever. She missed her parents and her little brothers. Why did God take them, leaving her to live life without them? And Sylvia . . . how she longed for her best friend!
Kristin knelt by the trunk and carefully lifted out a soft, knitted shawl that had once belonged to her mother, Lydia Eikaas. Mor had been an excellent seamstress, expert in spinning wool into yarn and thread, as well as in weaving and sewing garments. She’d taught Kristin everything she knew about the craft. Surely Kristin could now put her skills to good use in this new country, this land of opportunity.
She sighed and glanced over to where her aunt and two cousins continued straightening up after the meal. Inga and Anna barely smiled, and her aunt’s expression seemed permanently frozen into a frown. Is that what this country really afforded . . . misery?
Allowing her gaze to wander around the dismal cabin once more, Kristin began to wish she had not come to America.

Mornings with Jesus 2012 - Litfuse Tour & Giveaway

2012-01-30T06:47:00.000-05:00

About the book:

"Be still and know that I am God.” is one of the most beautiful verses from the Bible, but it’s not easy to practice in this busy world. Mornings with Jesus will help you do just that—“be still” in Jesus’ beautiful and powerful presence. For those who are seeking a deeper experience in their relationship with Christ, Mornings with Jesus offers a fresh perspective of who Jesus is (the Healer, the Son of God, the Comforter, the Good Shepherd) and what that means for day-to-day life. With a warm and friendly voice, 365 short devotional writings on the character and teachings of Jesus encourage readers to greet each day by drawing near to Him and inviting His presence into their day. Spend time with Jesus at the beginning of each day and experience His nearness and peace in a new way throughout the year. Each day’s selection includes: • a Bible verse • an entry based on Jesus: His words, miracles, and parables; His wisdom, compassion, and comfort; His mystery, power, divinity, and humanity • a “faith step” that will inspire and challenge readers to apply the day’s message to their lives.

Available from Amazon

My Thoughts:

I'll admit, I'm one that prefers to curl up with my Bible at night instead of starting off with some readings in the morning. Mornings always seem so rushed and makes it almost impossible to have time to read and get something from what I'm reading.

"Mornings with Jesus" offers a Bible verse, a nice short devotional and a Faith Step that may challenge the reader to apply the reading throughout their day. Unlike many of the devotionals that I have read, this one is written by seven well known and loved authors: Tricia Goyer, Judy K. Baer, Gwen Ford Faulkenberry, Sharon Hinck, Keri Wyatt Kent, Camy Tang, and Erin Keeley Marshall, giving it more of a personal feel - like chatting over a cup of tea with a friend.

This book is designed to read one devotional a day and each are dated, but in the back there is also an index by subject. This is nice for those that need to concentrate on something at a particular time. This makes the devotional even more personal and possibly more useful when you really need that extra help.

Those that follow my blog know that my husband was let go from his job of 24 years due to downsizing and eliminating his position. This has been a real time of change and one day in particular, we were struggling with the news of how much health insurance will be running on top of everything else. That meant we had to cut back even more than we have been. I needed my devotion to address my situation, so I went to the index and found an entry written by Kari Wyatt Kent addressing the subject of economy (Tuesday, Oct. 9). Keri addresses pruning unneeded items from your life. With less "stuff" to focus on and fill you life with, you will have more compassion and will be more likely to rely on God and pray more. This was fantastic and exactly what I needed to read that day!

I love reading the entries by the authors every day, but I don't care for the use of different versions for the Bible quotes. I prefer a one version focus and when a book/writer does this, it feels like the version that is used matches what the author wants to say more than the author matching their thoughts to what the verse says.

In conclusion, this is still a very nice devotional and gives a nice start to each and every day! Please note - this is not designed to replace your regular Bible study/reading.

See what others are saying here.

Win a copy of Mornings with Jesus

Guideposts was generous and sent me two copies of this book - one to review and one to give away to one lucky reader. If you would like to add this beautiful book to your library, please fill out the form below. Please note that since I am mailing the book personally, I will need to keep my costs down - so the drawing is only open to those who live in the US. Drawing ends Feb 12.

<p>&amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Loading...&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;gt;</p>

I received a copy of this book to read and honestly review for this tour.

Unhallowed Ground by Mel R. Starr

2012-01-27T12:40:00.000-05:00

Unhallowed Ground
The Fourth Chronicle of Hugh de Singleton, Surgeon
Author: Mel Starr
Publisher: Monarch Books
ISBN: 978-0-85721-058-6
Paperback
240 pages
Publication: January 2012

About the Book:

Thomas atte Bridge, a man no one likes, is found hanging from a tree near Cowleys Corner. All assume he has taken his own life, but Master Hugh and Kate find evidence that this may not be so.

Many of the town had been harmed by Thomas, and Hugh is not eager to send one of them to the gallows. Then he discovers that the priest John Kellet, atte Bridge’s partner in crime in A Corpse at St. Andrew's Chapelwas covertly in Bampton at the time atte Bridge died.

Master Hugh is convinced that Kellet has murdered atte Bridge--one rogue slaughtering another. He sets out for Exeter, where atte Bridge now works. But there he discovers that the priest is an emaciated skeleton of a man, who mourns the folly of his past life. Hugh must return to Bampton and discover which of his friends has murdered his enemy.

Read an excerpt of Unhallowed Ground here

My Thoughts:

Unhallowed Ground is the fourth book in the "Chronicles of Hugh de Singleton, Surgeon", however it is easily read as a stand-alone. This is the first of the series I have read, and I found no problems with starting at this point. There is enough information and character development that I could easily connect and not feel lost.

Taking place in 14th Century Bampton, England, Unhallowed Ground centers around Master Hugh de Singleton who is both a surgeon and bailiff to Sir Gilbert. Master Hugh is a walking contradiction because he's looked at with suspicion because of his job as bailiff and revered because of being a good surgeon. This makes for a very interesting protagonist.

Written in first person and being able to see through the eyes of Master Hugh was fascinating and made for a captivating and unforgettable story. When he sees Thomas atte Bridge hanging from the tree and studies him, he discovers that the apparent suicide is possibly not a suicide at all. As he continues his investigation, he discovers not only was Thomas atte Bridge a despicable man (worse than he originally knew), but he wrestles with the thought of possibly arresting a neighbor or "good" person who was involved in the murder.

Master Hugh is newly married and discusses this information with his wife, Kate. She is an intelligent woman who also noticed from the beginning that Thomas atte Bridge's death was not as it seemed. With each dead end Master Hugh would hit, Kate would be there as a sounding board and help him decide if it was worth continuing the investigation.

This book was an amazing read! I am so taken with the writing style of Mr. Starr, that I really want to read all the books in this series. He is truly a brilliant writer who seems to effortlessly bring to life 14th Century England. His prose and ability to describe in detail day-to-day life transports the reader back in time and allows on to actually feel like they are a part of that time period.

This book comes HIGHLY recommended!

About the Author:

Mel Starr was born and grew up in Kalamazoo, Michigan. After graduating with a MA in history from Western Michigan University in 1970, he taught history in Michigan public schools for thirty-nine years, thirty-five of those in Portage, MI, where he retired in 2003 as chairman of the social studies department of Portage Northern High School. Mel and his wife, Susan, have two daughters and seven grandchildren.

I received a copy of "Unhallowed Ground" to read and honestly review for this tour.

Whither Thou Goest, I Will Go by Naomi Dathan

2012-01-25T01:00:00.000-05:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Naomi Dathan

and the book:

Whither Thou Goest, I Will Go

Kirkdale Press (November 27, 2011)

***Special thanks to Ryan Rotz, Publicist, Kirkdale Press for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Naomi Dathan has been fascinated with prairie life since her third grade teacher read Little House in the Big Woods to the class. She finally indulged this fascination with her fourth novel, Whither Thou Goest, I Will Go. She lives in Ohio with her two daughters and two undersized beagles with oversized egos.

Check out her witty blog http://naomidathan.com

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

For everything there is a season. A season for joy. A season for sorrow. A season for testing.

Jem Perkins has it all – money, a fine house, a handsome husband, and a new baby boy. But when her family fortunes turn, Jem’s husband Seth leads her to a new home: a sod house on a Nebraska homestead.

It is a season of growth for Jem as she reluctantly confronts her new realities: back-breaking labor, dangerous illness, and mind-numbing isolation. She learns to embrace her new role as a capable woman and marriage partner and discovers an awareness of God’s hand in her life.

Then, on January 12, 1888, the history-making Children’s Blizzard sweeps across the land, ushering in a season of hardship she never expected. Can Jem’s confidence, marriage, and new-found faith weather the storm?

$.99 Sale!

Buy the ebook Whither Thou Goest, I Will Go from Vyrso for $.99. Use the coupon code WILDCARD at checkout or simply click HERE.
Offer ends this Friday.

Whither is also available for Kindle, Nook, Kobo, iBooks, and Google Books.

About Vyrso
Vyrso is a new Christian ebookstore and reader app from Logos Bible Software. You can read Vyrso ebooks on your iPad, iPhone, Android tablet or phone, and online at Biblia.com.

Product Details:

Kindle Price: $6.15

Format: Kindle Edition
File Size: 382 KB
Simultaneous Device Usage:Unlimited
Publisher: Kirkdale Press (November 27, 2011)
Sold by:Amazon Digital Services
Language: English
ASIN: B006FK72QE
Text-to-Speech: Enabled
Lending: Enabled

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

January 12, 1888

      At midnight, Charley woke shivering in his trundle bed. “Ma?”
      He rose, but couldn’t see his mother’s form in the faltering lamplight. “Ma? Mom-mom?”
      Still no answer. The cast iron stove was dark and silent. The wind outside howled like a wolf, and caught at the door of the sod house, swinging it open and shut.
      Where was Ma? Why wasn’t she making the stove hot or snuggling him warm under the covers? Was she outside with the wind-wolf?
      Charley went toward the door. Ice blew into his eyes, making them water. But he wasn’t crying. Not yet. Warmth brushed his legs, a wetness caressed his cheek. The big dog, Zeke, curled his shaggy body against Charley, pushing him backward—away from the open door.
      Charley pushed back and shook his finger at him. “No! Bad.”
      Zeke whined and pressed harder. Charley fell, landing on something warm and solid. It didn’t hurt, but he set to wailing anyway, protesting his alone state, his empty belly, and the bitter cold that bit at his eyes and ears and nostrils like fierce ants.
      No one came to comfort him, so his cries soon dried up. He scuttled across the still form on the floor, pausing at a tinkling sound. “Ging,” he said, remembering. “Ging, ging, ging.”
      The bell. Pa had rung the bell today. Ding, ding, ding. He’d stoked the fire high and hot, gave Charley cold mash to eat, and clung to the doorframe, ringing and ringing the bell. Once, Pa had fallen to the dirt floor, but after a long while, he pushed himself upright, clutched the doorframe, and rang the bell again.
      Now Pa was on the floor again, unmoving.
      Charley stepped on Pa’s head as he went to look outside “ Ma!” The storm sucked his voice away so fast that he didn’t even hear himself. The winds answered in high voices, scared and scary at the same time. Was Ma out there in the black with the wind voices?
      At last, Charley made up his mind. With Zeke making little worried sounds close beside him, Charley stepped out into the blizzard to find Ma.

***

August 14, 1886 (Seventeen months before)
      The Reynolds’s tea was well attended, but the August heat oppressed the guests, subduing the conversation to a languid pace. Servants discreetly watered—and even fanned—the profusion of roses arranged in vases through the room. Ladies and gentlemen sipped English tea and nibbled at scones and trifles to be polite, waiting for the blessed moment when they could return home, untie their cravats and corsets, and have a cool bath.
      Jem Perkins had nothing but sympathy for the wilting flowers. She sank onto a thickly upholstered chair next to her sister and fanned herself.
      “Can we go home now?” she whispered.
      “Hush!” Sally hissed, shooting a worried glance toward their hosts. “Mrs. Reynolds has been planning this tea for weeks. And we haven’t even greeted the guest of honor yet.”
      Hiding behind her fan, Jem peeked at Mrs. Ashley Grayson, seated near the window. She couldn’t hear what Mrs. Grayson said, but it drew appreciative laughter from the surrounding crowd. Jem smiled at her sister with her eyes. “She does feed off the adoration, doesn’t she?”
      Sally frowned. “Oh, Jem, I’m sure that’s not fair. Mrs. Grayson deserves credit for starting the Children’s Board.”
      “Of course she does! But don’t you think she has a bit of the look a cat gets when he’s found a sunny spot on the windowsill?”
      Sally pursed her lips. “You could have worked with her, Jem. I know she asked you to. Then you’d be right up there beside her.”
      Wasn’t that just like Sally, to make out that Jem was jealous. What had she to be jealous of?
      Jem fanned herself again, waiting until her irritation ebbed before answering. After all, it wouldn’t do for Jem—the married woman—to engage in sibling squabbling with her poor spinster sister. Once satisfied that there would be only kindness in her voice, she answered. “I was hardly in a position to take on an outside project right then, was I? A woman’s first responsibility is to her family. Perhaps you’ll understand … one day.”
      Sally’s cheeks went pink as the arrow found its mark. She was Jem’s elder by three years, poor thing, and she didn’t even have a serious beau. She sniffed. “I’m sure that was it. I’m sure it wasn’t because you discovered that setting up a charitable foundation actually requires a great deal of work.”
      That stung. Jem lowered her fan. “Now you’re just being cruel. You know I work very hard, Sally. Look at how many hours I put into the flower garden last year.”
      “And then you lost interest and Rogers had to take it over.”
      “And think of all the poetry I’ve written. You’ve never written a poem in your life!”
      “And I’m better off for it.”
      “At least I’m trying things. Maybe I haven’t found my true calling yet, but you shouldn’t fault me for trying.”
      Sally opened her mouth, but then shut it again, holding up a restraining palm. “Oh, we’re quarreling like children.” She sighed. “I apologize. I’m sure you have found your true calling, Jem. I’m sure your true calling is motherhood. You’re wonderful with Charley, and what’s more important than raising a happy, healthy child?”
      Jem settled back in her seat, buying herself a minute by sipping her iced tea. Sally would never have apologized a year ago, would certainly have never offered a compliment. It was disconcerting, really. “It is hot,” she offered.
      Seeing Sally relax, she did too, leaning forward to whisper to her. “And boring. I know Mrs. Grayson deserves all of our admiration. I do, truly. But I’m so tired of seeing all the same people and having all the same conversations, day after day. This city is chockfull of people, but you couldn’t tell by us.”
      “There’s the doorbell,” Sally said. “I’m sure it will be someone fascinating.”
      “Like Mark Twain?”
      “That’s right. Or Buffalo Bill.”
      Jem giggled. “How about Jesse James?”
      “I think he’s dead. Wasn’t he killed? Oh—” Her tone changed abruptly. “Look. It is someone new.”
      Jem looked. Her fan froze. The tall man stood in the entry to the parlor, his bearing military even out of uniform. He bowed slightly to Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds, shook Mr. Reynolds’s hand, and exchanged greetings with surrounding guests. Feminine eyes followed his progress as he strode in, but he didn’t seem to notice. His pewter gray eyes scanned the crowd, and landed on Jem.
      She returned his gaze, then lowered her attention to her skirts. “Well, now. The new guest is dashing, wouldn’t you say, Sally?”
      Sally made a haughty harrumph. “Oh, Sister, he looks to be a bit of a ruffian to me. Like someone who spends time in the Wild West. You’d do well to stay away from him, I think.”
      Jem murmured her agreement and peeked at the man over her fan again. His eyes were still on her. “I believe I’ll have some refreshment.”
      She approached the buffet table, turning her back on the man. Her sister was at her elbows, but when she felt Sally withdraw, she knew the man was approaching. She peeked at him over her shoulder while she ladled pink punch into a glass. He removed his derby and offered a slight bow.
      “Ma’am.”
      “Lieutenant.”
      His lips twitched at her return address, or perhaps at the Virginia drawl that had crept into the single word. “I wonder if I might join you for a beverage.”
      “Why, sir, as a guest of this tea party, you are as welcome as anyone to partake, I daresay.” Yes, the drawl of her childhood was definitely back, sliding through her words like sugarcane molasses.
      “Indeed,” the man said. He poured himself punch and downed it in a single motion. The glass looked ridiculous in his large hand, like a child’s play teacup. “I have to say, ma’am, that the scenery in St. Paul has certainly improved since my departure to Washington. I don’t remember such fine, dainty creatures as yourself frequenting the Reynolds’s teas in the past.”
      Jem smiled at that, but flushed a little, too. “Perhaps, sir, you are mistaking me for one of the young ladies playing Botticelli in the next room. I’m afraid I don’t particularly”—she took her time with the word, savoring each syllable as she hadn’t in years—“qualify as dainty anymore.”
      He imitated her accent, exaggerated it into a parody of a Virginia gentleman. “Why, ma’am, you are very mistaken, I’m sure. Why, you are the … the epitome of feminine beauty and delicacy. Your eyes are as blue as cornflowers. Your lips, well, they’re two precious little, uh, roses. In fact, I wonder if we could step out into the gardens and take a stroll together? Just the two of us?”
      “Why, sir! Surely you don’t expect me to leave this tea with you, unchaparoned. Think of the scandal.”
      He pressed his hand to his chest, gave her moon eyes. “Nothing of the sort, ma’am. I cherish your reputation as I would cherish, well, the soundness of my horse’s legs. I would die before compromising your honor. In fact, in order to protect your good name, I am willing to go this far: I will tell these people that we are married.”
      Jem started to giggle, then; she couldn’t help it. He grinned back at her, and the game was up. She threw her arms around his neck, in spite of all the company around. “Oh, Seth. I’m so glad you’re home. I thought you wouldn’t be back for two more weeks.”
      “Jem.” He put his arms around her waist and let out a long breath, letting his rigid stance relax. “This was long enough. I missed you. Can we break away from this tea? How is the baby?”
      “Oh, I hated to leave him. I think he might be getting diphtheria.”
      “Diphtheria?” He didn’t sound worried. In fact, he sounded a little amused. She backed out of his arms a little to frown at him.
      “Diphtheria is very serious.”
      “You’ve had the doctor by, I take it?”
      “Of course. Twice now.”
      “And he said?”
      “Oh, you know how Dr. Hollister is. You’d have to lay an egg for him to agree you have chicken pox.”
      Seth took her elbow lightly and led her through the parlor, nodding to the ladies, offering greetings to a few of the men. “Jemima, I’m sure Dr. Hollister would know if Charley had diphtheria. It’s very distinct.”
      “You know I worry. He coughs continually—all night long. And his nose is running.”
      “Darling, it sounds like he has a cold.” He led her to the front door, where they made their apologies to the Reynolds. “Come,” he said, as he led her to the carriage. “I’ll have a look. I certainly know what diphtheria looks like.”
      Before they’d stepped through the French doors of their home, they could hear Charley’s outraged screams ringing through the house. Jem dropped Seth’s arm and ran up the long, curving staircase, allowing him to follow when he would. “Charley! Oh, dear, what’s happened?”
      She stopped when she entered the nursery. Her boy was upright, clutching the bars of his crib with chubby fingers, red-faced and tearful, but otherwise apparently fine. “Oh, dear.” She hurried to lift him and snuggled him against her bosom. “What’s the matter, you poor little boy? Are you hurt?”
       Charley’s cries subsided. He rested his nearly bald head against her, hiccoughing.
      “Poor boy,” Jem crooned. “Mama’s here, now. Where’s Nursie, hmm? Didn’t she hear you cry?”
      “He has grown.” Seth’s voice came from the doorway. “Was he standing? When did he start that?”
      “Last week.” She smiled up at him, keeping her cheek pressed against the peach fuzz of Charley’s warm head. “I wrote to you about it, but I suppose you didn’t get the letter.”
      “No, but I haven’t stayed in one place for more than a night.” He sighed, came and wrapped his arms around Jem, enveloping her and the baby in a hug. “My family.”
      “Oh, no, ma’am!” Sophie’s voice was sharp. “He’s supposed to be napping.”
      Jem and Seth turned to look at the nurse. Her hands were closed into tight fists, pressed against her stout body as if she were restraining herself from snatching the child and putting him back in his crib.
      “Oh, but he was crying so hard. Poor boy.”
      “Good afternoon, Lieutenant. Welcome home,” Sophie said, then firmed her voice to Jem. “No, ma’am. Colonel Wilkinson was clear on that. The boy must stay in his crib for his nap. The colonel don’t want him spoiled.”
      Seth’s voice was pleasant. “Sophie, I believe you work for me, not Colonel Wilkinson.”
      “No, no.” Jem hurried to the crib. “It’s fine, Seth. Really. My father is right—you know I’ll spoil him.”
      She peeled Charley off her chest and set him in the crib. His screams renewed, broken by sobs. He rolled and pulled himself back up to his feet. Seth picked him up. Charley reached for his mother, but Seth didn’t hand him over.
      “Oh, Seth, really. My father is right.”
      “I haven’t seen my son in two months. I believe he and I will take a walk around the nursery.”
      Sophie gave Seth a long, tight-lipped look, and retreated from the room.
      “Oh, my,” Jem said. “She’ll let my father know. She always does.”
      “Darling, this isn’t your father’s child. It’s ours. Why does he have anything to say about when we hold him?”
      “You know how he worries. He wants the best for his only grandson.”
      Charley stopped reaching for his mother and stared up into Seth’s face.
      “Look, he remembers you.”
      Seth made a scoffing sound, but Jem saw he looked pleased. “He’s far too young. I’m glad he’s letting me hold him, though. So, other than this dire illness that has him at death’s door, he appears to be thriving.”
      Jem sighed. “You shouldn’t tease me, Seth. Ima Caldwell—do you remember her? She said her sister’s husband’s niece lost both of her little boys last winter—one to diphtheria, and the other to pneumonia. And Amy Wiley’s whole family is ill.”
      Seth sobered and kissed Charley’s head, holding him a little closer. “It’s terrible. I can’t imagine what they’ve suffered. But Charley is healthy. God has blessed us. Let’s thank Him for it, instead of borrowing trouble.”
      “Y—yes. I do, of course.”
      She shook her head. It was the sort of comment Sally had been prone to make lately. Seth had been no believer when they met; he’d gone to church only to please Jem and her family. But something had changed over the last year. Seth had changed.
      When he was home, he attended church on Sundays as well as a Bible study on Wednesday. He led prayer at mealtimes, even if it was only the two of them sitting at the long polished dining table. She tried to act like it was normal behavior—after all, she was the one who’d been brought up in the faith—but it was really rather embarrassing.
      “There, you see, Jem? He just needed a little walk.” Charley was settled against his father’s chest. His face had relaxed, his eyes closed in sleep.
      Jem plucked a cloth from the chest of drawers and swiped at the path of drool running down the baby’s chin. “You do remember about this part, don’t you?”
      Seth gave her a wry smile. “I tried to forget. I go through fewer shirts riding on top of the stage coach. Well, I suppose I should put him down.”
      Jem arranged the soft blankets in the crib. After Seth laid Charley on them, they stood side by side, admiring their little boy. “Isn’t he beautiful? I think he’s the prettiest baby in St. Paul.”
      Seth slid his arm around her waist. “By far the handsomest, anyway.” He sighed then. “Is your father at home today? I need to discuss some things with him. I didn’t see him at the Reynolds’s tea.”
      “He said he had business to attend to today. I’m not sure whether he’s at home or at the office. But, Seth, can’t it wait? You’ve just gotten home. Can’t we spend the rest of the afternoon together?”
      She looked up at him as she finished the question, and was surprised to see the grim expression on his face.
      “I’m afraid not, Jem,” he said. “I’m sorry; I know I just got home. But I have to handle some business.”
       She gave him a quick pout, making sure to smile with her eyes so he knew she was teasing. “It’s a shame, when a man would rather spend his homecoming with his father-in-law than with his wife.”
      Seth didn’t smile back, but he kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be home in a couple of hours. We’ll have dinner together—just the two of us, all right?
      Jem wrapped her arms around his waist and accepted his embrace. “Hurry back. I’m sure my father will be glad to see you, anyway.”

Tour: Alienation by Jon S. Lewis - Review & iPad 2 Giveaway

2012-01-24T11:56:00.000-05:00

Alienation:
A C.H.A.O.S. Novel Book #2
Author: Jon S. Lewis
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
ISBN: 9781595547545
Genre: Juvenile Fiction, Science Fiction, General

About the Book:

After his parents were killed in a car accident, Colt McAllister was drawn into a world he thought only existed in comic books-one where mind control, jet packs, and flying motorcycles don't even scratch the surface.Along with his best friends Oz and Danielle, Colt is now training at the secret Central Headquarters Against the Occult and Supernatural academy. But strange accidents seem to follow him. . . even with the security of the school grounds. What first seems random soon turns deadly. But who is targeting Colt?As the alien invasions increase in frequency and force, C.H.A.O.S resources are taxed to the limit and they're forced to utilize the new recruits. In the midst of battle, Colt will discover some startling revelations . . . about himself, his friendship with Oz, and why he has been chosen to defeat this alien attack against earth.

My Thoughts:

Alienation is the second book in the C.H.A.O.S. series and like the first book, Invasion, it was a thrilling read. One of the few Christian fiction books geared towards teen males, this book will appeal because of the amount of action and comic book "feel" to the story line. Filled with aliens, fighting, good -vs- evil, a young hero and his friends, this will keep readers young and old as well as male and female, interested and on the edge of their seats!

Although this can be read as a stand-alone, I would strongly encourage the series to be read in order. There was so much that happened in Invasion, that one would appreciate Alienation even more reading the first book.

Jon S. Lewis spins a fascinating tale that really held my interest. I was a little surprised with the violence that was in the books, but then again, these are about war with the aliens. The Christian content is not overwhelming. In fact, it's quite subtle and comes across as normal in conversations and activities.

I am thrilled to see a clean read geared towards teen males. The market offers so much for the YA female so this not only refreshing but very exciting to me. I cannot wait to see what the next in the series holds in store for Colt, Oz and Danielle! This series comes highly recommended!

About the Author:

Jon S. Lewis is the coauthor of the Grey Griffins trilogy (over 500,000 books in print) and the upcoming Grey Griffins Clockwork Chronicles. He also writes for the DC COMICS family of publishers. He resides with his family in Arizona.

Win an iPad from @JonSLewis and @NelsonFiction in the Alienation iPad2 Giveaway!The invasion was only the beginning! Jon Lewis is celebrating the next adventure in his fast-paced C.H.A.O.S. series with an explosive giveaway!

One thrill-seeker will receive:

iPad2 with Wi-Fi
Copies of the C.H.A.O.S. novels, Invasion and Alienation

Enter today by clicking one of the icons below. But hurry, the giveaway ends at noon on February 7th. Winner will be announced at the Alienation Facebook Party on 2/7. Jon will be hosting an Author Chat, giving away copies of the books and gift certificates to iTunes and Amazon.com! Don't miss a second of the intrigue!

Grab your copy of Alienation and join Jon on the evening of February 7th for an author chat, spy training (How much do you know about alien invaders?) and lots of giveaways.

Don't miss a moment of the fun. RSVP today and tell your friends via FACEBOOK or TWITTER and increase your chances of winning. Hope to see you on the 31st!

Want to see more of what others think about this book? Make sure to visit others in the tour. The schedule can be found at: http://litfusegroup.com/blogtours/text/13451655)

I received a copy of "Alienation" to read and honestly review for this tour.

2012 and the Rise of the Secret Sect by Bob Thiel, Ph.D.

2012-01-24T10:57:00.001-05:00

2012 and the Rise of the Secret Sect
Author: Bob Thiel,Ph.D.
Publisher: Nazarene Books
Genre: non-fiction

About the Book:

No other book includes so many prophecies from the Mayan records, I Ching, Islam, Talmud, Catholic writings, Byzantine predictions, Hopis, Hindus, Buddhists, New Age Movement, Kenyan predictions, Book of Mormon, Chinese predictions, Tibetan writings, various scientists, and other sources in the light of Bible prophecy.

2012 and the Rise of the Secret Sect: A Revolutionary Spiritual and Physical Survival Guide for 2012-2020 is a groundbreaking investigative work that goes beyond way beyond the usual doomsday flaming meteor and tidal wave scenarios. Award-winning researcher and end time prophecy expert, Dr. Bob Thiel, disseminates and later compares ancient prophecies of the world's 11 major religions, explains which prophecies are not likely to occur and describes which world changing events are inevitable. Of particular interest to anyone interested in the events leading up to and following 2012 is the book's Sequential Order of Predictions, a comparable table and time line. A masterful and well-researched work unlike any other on the subject, 2012 and the Rise of the Secret Sect will change the way we look at, and prepare for, the most anticipated date in human history.

My Thoughts:

I almost passed up the chance to review this book, as most books on End-Times Prophecy seems to be unsubstantiated and with much opinion from the author(s). I'm not sure what made me agree to review this book, but when it arrived, I was very impressed with the amount of research that went into it.

I found that Dr. Thiel had a great many resources that he drew from, including different religions and history. Seeing this, I wasn't sure how dry the reading was going to be, but was pleased to discover that Dr. Thiel had written a very easy to read and understand book that laid out proof for the reader to draw their own conclusions on. Mind you, he does have is own opinions, and I won't say I agree with everything, but he has some very valid points.

I found that many interesting facts that show that although there are different religions, we really seem to believe much of the same things. This really was an eye-opener for me! I'm looking forward to really spending more time studying this book. I really didn't have the time to dig as deeply as I'd like because of my time frame to read for this tour. There is a wealth of information between the covers of this fascinating book!

I would recommend 2012 and the Rise of the Secret Sect to anyone that is interested in End-Times Prophecy or just to those interested in a well researched book about the ideas and prophecies of different religions/religious beliefs.

About the Author:

Bob Thiel, Ph.D., is a highly regarded researcher, biblical scholar, and one of the world's foremost authorities on end time prophecies. He holds a Bachelor's degree from the University of LaVerne, a Master's degree from the University of Southern California, and a Ph.D. from the Union Institute and University. Throughout his academic and professional career, he has studied philosophy, religion, science, and prophecy, while making multiple research trips to ancient sites in Central America, Asia Minor, Rome, and Greece. Dr. Thiel has been a guest on countless radio programs nationwide, and is Examiner.com's Los Angeles religious history and prophecy correspondent. His articles on prophecy, religion and science have appeared in several dozen magazines, newspapers, trade publications, and scientific journals. His videocasts are seen weekly on YouTube and to the hundreds of thousands of visitors to his site, COGwriter.

GIVEWAWAY!!!

Dr. Thiel has been very generous and has offered two copies of his book - one print for US readers and one in e-copy format for International readers of this blog. For a chance to win this amazing book, please fill out the form below:

<p>&amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;gt;Loading...&amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;gt;</p>I received a copy of this book to read and honestly review for this tour.

Growing Great Kids: Partner with God to cultivate His purpose in your child's life by Kate Battistelli

2012-01-24T10:20:00.000-05:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Kate Battistelli

and the book:

Growing Great Kids: Partner with God to cultivate His purpose in your child's life

Charisma House (January 3, 2012)

***Special thanks to Jon Wooten of Charisma House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Kate Battistelli is a wife, former Broadway actress, and mom to one of Christian music’s most celebrated new recording artists—Grammy-nominated, Christian contemporary singer-songwriter Francesca Battistelli. Kate currently writes a popular blog at TheKitchenPrincess.com, volunteers at ESTHER Single Mothers Outreach, and is thoroughly enjoying her newest role as grandmother to Francesca’s first child, Matthew Elijah.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Help your child become everything God made them to be.

Successful adults don’t happen by accident. It takes wisdom to raise your children with a strong sense of their destiny in God and a deep knowledge of their gifts and callings.

In Growing Great Kids, Kate Battistelli shares what she and her husband, Mike, learned about parenting during the journey of raising their daughter—Dove Award–winning recording artist Francesca Battistelli. Using anecdotes to illustrate the insights she and her husband gained, she provides practical advice including:

* How to dream God’s big dream for your child
* The value of humility and integrity
* How to interpret God’s seasons in a child’s life
* The power of a parent’s words, and more

Product Details:

List Price: $14.99

Paperback: 240 pages
Publisher: Charisma House (January 3, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1616386541
ISBN-13: 978-1616386542

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Chapter 1: Gifts and Callings
When my daughter was little, she definitely had a flair for the dramatic. She was fun-loving but with a serious side and a true sense of right and wrong. There was a Burger King commercial on television back then and the tag line was “Sometimes you just gotta break the rules!” Each time it would come on TV, Franny would loudly shout, “No, you don’t! You don’t break the rules!”
She loved to sing and dance and change her outfit half a dozen times a day, and I began to have a sense that maybe my little drama queen was inclined toward the performing arts. So like millions of moms do every day, I signed her up for ballet lessons. To say she loved it would be an understatement. She took to it like a duck to water—loving the pink tights, the hair in a bun, and especially when Miss Gina would single her out for a word of encouragement!
As time went on I started getting the sense that maybe God had something more for her in the performing arts. That’s when we intentionally began to take steps to expose her to the arts in a variety of small ways such as seeing the annual production of The Nutcracker at Christmas, watching old movie musicals, and taking her to children’s theater productions. We didn’t take huge steps, but we made small investments to see how she responded and to see if my hunch was right. For her seventh birthday we took her to see the Broadway production of The Secret Garden, and she was completely captivated with the show and with musical theater in general from that moment on. That’s when my husband and I really began praying about her future and what more we might do to help mine the treasure in her.
Mining the Greatness
Mine (noun):
1.an excavation made in the earth for the purpose of extracting ores, coal, precious stones, etc.
2. a place where such minerals may be obtained, either by excavation or by washing the soil.
3. a natural deposit of such minerals.1
Precious metals and precious stones are embedded in rocks and have to be extracted. Metals especially don’t generally appear in nature in their pure form. Shafts and tunnels are cut into the earth. The rock is quarried and then smelted with heat to remove the dross from the ore. It’s a difficult, tedious process, and it takes time and effort. The results, however, are certainly worth the effort to tap those precious veins beneath the earth.
Our children’s gifts are sometimes buried deep. It’s up to us to mine the gift in them, extract it, and allow it to be shaped and polished to be useful in building the kingdom of God. The effort requires selfless dedication on our part and an investment of time and finances, but one that pays lifelong dividends in the life of your child.
What is God showing you about your child? What traits is he expressing? What most interests or intrigues him? Is he outgoing or introspective? Is he intellectual or athletic? Is he artistic and creative or mechanically minded and good with his hands? And what are the dreams you have inside for him? Do you have a knowing deep inside about his life? Has God given you a glimpse into his future? What do you see when you pray for him?
I believe it’s my job to find out who God made my child to be. What particular path has He set for him? What’s unique about his personality, gifts, talents, and aspirations? How do I help him find the life God has already planned for him? What is God’s purpose for his life and how do I train him to accomplish his purpose?
Psalm 139:13–16 says it so beautifully:
      For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; marvelous are Your works, and that my soul knows very well. My frame was not hidden from You, when I was made in secret, and skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, the days fashioned for me, when as yet there were none of them.
He knows our paths and has already written them in His book!
I don’t claim to be an expert in child rearing, but I am an expert in raising my child. Just as you are an expert in raising your child. The fact is, no one knows your child better than you, and as your child grows and develops, his gifts and talents will be more obvious to you than to anyone else.

Train up a child in the way he should go [and in keeping with his individual gift or bent], and when he is old he will not depart from it. —Proverbs 22:6, amp
Parents, we are the trainers, and train is an active word! We train the whole child in the Word and godliness, in faith and biblical principles. We train them to obey and honor Him in thought, word, and deed. We train them to pursue their future careers and callings. We do them a great disservice if we take this responsibility lightly. God has given us a sacred trust by allowing us to be the stewards of our children. Here is the note on this scripture in my Spirit -Filled Life Bible: “Train up” has the idea of a parent graciously investing in a child whatever wisdom, love, nurture, and discipline is needed for him to become fully committed to God. It presupposes the emotional and spiritual maturity of the parent to do so. “In the way he should go” is to do the training according to the unique personality, gifts, and aspirations of the child. It also means to train the child to avoid whatever natural tendencies he might have that would prevent total commitment to God (for example, a weak
will, a lack of discipline, a susceptibility to depression). Hence, the promise is that proper development
insures the child will stay committed to God.2  There are many good resources available on how to raise your child in “the nurture and admonition of the Lord” (Eph. 6:4, kjv).I’m trying to convey something else in this book. If you are a Christian parent, it’s a given that you will raise your child to love God with all his heart, soul, mind, and strength. Teaching our children to know and love God and to delight in Him should be our highest aim as we raise our kids.
My goal is to inspire you to partner with God to mine the greatness that’s lying dormant in your child. Each of us is capable of far more than we think we are. I truly believe we are capable of greatness and we shouldn’t be afraid to pursue it. God will show you the gifts and talents, the callings and destiny residing in your child. For your children to become all that God has designed them to be, means you have to be willing to go the extra mile and not assume they will simply “figure it out” when they are grown.
Too many parents seem content to allow their children to drift into young adulthood and then wonder what turned them into adultolescents (a person who has physically matured to adulthood, yet still behaves like an adolescent) and why they seem to have no direction in life. Childhood is an innocent time of wonder and discovery and endless possibilities, and it desperately requires our care, nurturing, and firm direction! Helping your child to explore life’s endless possibilities will open the floodgates to dreaming big dreams. As time goes on, with your guidance, he will narrow his choices, focus on what really interests him and embark on the path to building a future in the center of God’s will for his life.
I firmly believe God shows parents from the time their kids are small what He has invested in them. He shows us their bent and our job is to dig deep and find the depth of the gifts and callings buried inside. It is important we are not too busy or distracted with life to see what God is eager to reveal to us in each of our children.
Bumps Along the Road
When Franny had just turned twenty years old she backed into a lawyer’s car, in the lawyer’s driveway, after the lawyer had warned her to “be careful not to back into my car.” Naturally she felt foolish and was extremely upset. She knew Dad was likely to ask his famous twenty questions when she got home and was not looking forward to it. As she was driving home, she began crying and praying. The Lord began to speak to her heart,
reminding her she wasn’t perfect and it was OK with Him. He made her the way she was and to just relax and trust Him. She began singing this chorus: “I got a couple dents in my fender, got a couple rips in my jeans, try to fit the pieces together but perfection is my enemy. And on my own I’m so clumsy, but on Your shoulders I can see, I’m free to be me.”3
The next day she sat on the end of her bed and played for her dad and me the finished song God had dropped in her spirit during the drive home the day before. It might sound crazy, but as soon as I heard it, I knew this was a hit song. This occurred way before Franny moved to Nashville, had signed a record deal, or had any inkling anything like that was even possible. But I knew, because God knew and was just sharing my daughter’s
future with me. Three years later, “Free to Be Me” was the first single by a female artist to hit number one at Christian radio in eight years, remaining at number one for ten weeks!
Grammy Story
People ask me all the time, “Did you ever think your daughter would do so well?” “Did you ever think you would hear her on the radio?” or “Are you surprised by her success?” The answers are yes, yes, and no! Mike and I always had a “knowing” deep inside about her career path as she got older. We sensed where God was going, and we let Him plant big dreams in us for her. From the time she was fifteen and beginning to pursue music more seriously, we would watch the televised Grammy Awards every year and every year I would say to her, “You’re going to be up there one day.” I don’t know why I said it; I just knew deep down it was true and, knowing words have creative power, I believed it important to actually speak it out.
I found an old journal recently and in thumbing through it, came across this entry. February 28, 2002:
      Hi, Lord. It’s me, bugging You! Last night we watched the
      Grammys and Franny’s emotions were so stirred she cried
      through much of it. Mike says I set her expectations too high,
      but I believe if You are going to go for something, go for the
      highest. It’s not that it’s so important to win an award but
      winning represents being at a level where you have respect
      and acceptance. I know she is willing to work hard and
      she will work hard. Show her mercy and encourage her in
      all her hard work. Let her redouble her efforts and give it
      everything she’s got. Show her Your favor and love. Raise
      her up in the music business and let her be a shining, warm,
      beautiful light. Give Mike and I wisdom with how to guide
      her. Thanks, Lord!
In December 2009, seven years after I wrote in my journal, Franny was nominated for a Grammy Award in the Best Gospel Performance category for her song “Free to Be Me”! People asked me if I was surprised and truly I can say I wasn’t. I’d been praying about it for seven years! I was thrilled of course, but not surprised. It was just one more confirmation of what I already knew. She hasn’t won a Grammy yet, but I’m still praying!
My Story and I’m Sticking to It
Franny comes by her gifts naturally. She has the added benefit of parents who happened to stumble upon, believe in, and latch onto God’s principles for growing great kids. While it is certainly an unmistakable advantage to be raised immersed in these principles, successful adults can and do spring from circumstances where these principles are absent, but perhaps at play to some degree in the background. I didn’t have parents who followed these principles, yet I was able to dig down deep and define what I wanted in life and pursue it. However, I wouldn’t recommend rolling the dice with your children by failing to employ every asset in your parenting arsenal to stack the deck in favor of your child’s future.
I grew up in circumstances quite different from those I trumpet on these pages, and yet somehow found a successful future in spite of it. My life’s circumstances led me on a journey that took its inevitable detours, but it’s my life story and I’m sticking to it! Just so you have a little background and can understand better where I’m coming from, here’s my story.
I grew up in an encouragement vacuum. My parents had four kids, and I assumed my place tucked right in the middle at number three. As a child of the 1950s and 1960s and the conventional worldview of parenting in quasi-Christian homes during that era, my parents were busy with the social priorities of their all-American suburban lives.
As far as spirituality and growing up, I remember two things vividly about God. I remember being in Sunday school at maybe four or five years old and singing “Jesus Loves Me This I Know,” and completely believing it was true. Whoever Jesus was, I knew He loved me. The other thing I recall was thinking to myself when I was about six that I didn’t ever want to die and if there was a way to live forever, I was going to find it.
I grew up attending the Episcopal Church. I learned all about the life of Jesus, but I never knew Him in a personal way and I didn’t know He could live in my heart. I enjoyed church. The mystery and beauty of the liturgy, the candles and communion, the fragrant flowers, beautiful stained glass, and impressive organ music all contributed to my feeling of awe about God and awareness of my insignificance. Our church had beautiful stone
floors so your footsteps echoed as you walked along. I loved the hymns we sang and the readings from the Book of Common Prayer and the mystery of taking communion. I knew God was contained in all those things, but I didn’t sense a clear pathway to meet Him. It was His house after all, but how did you take Him home?
To her credit, my mom had us kneel by our beds every night to say the Lord’s Prayer and blessings over the family. My grandfather was a man of strong faith. He used to read Bible stories to us when we stayed over, and he would make them come alive. We would beg him for just one more! He would write in his Bible and underline scripture, something I take after him in. We could often find Grandpa stretched out over the couch in his office praying for what seemed like hours. We always knew not to disturb him during those times. He was not a perfect man by any means but those things I witnessed in him. His love for God and his devotion to his church and family have stuck with me all these years.
My childhood was pleasant with the typical ups and downs but no major traumas or tragedies. I rarely heard words that affirmed my value and potential or words encouraging me to believe the world was my oyster and I could be anything I wanted to be. There were lots of arguments between my parents and all the siblings. Expectations were high of course, but there was precious little praise and encouragement to attain them and far too much criticism. Somewhere in adolescence my self-esteem began to suffer, and I no longer felt comfortable sharing openly with my parents. My future lacked any kind of shape with no real direction. I didn’t have a clear cut path to run on with lots of support and nurturing. So I floated through high school. I floated through four colleges in two years. I was adrift with no focus and no goals.
I knew from the time I was a little girl that I loved to sing. It was my one passion, and I did what I could to develop my singing in high school. I joined the choir and did the yearly high school musical. We happened to have a wonderful and dedicated voice teacher at my high school, so I took advantage of her lessons. But I was pretty much on my own in my pursuit of music.
I asked my mom years later why she never pushed me or encouraged me in music and her response was fairly typical for her generation. She felt if it was really something I wanted to do, I’d pull myself up by my own initiative and make it happen. Actually, she was right. It’s exactly what I did, but I think I would have avoided a great many pitfalls along the way if I’d had her support.
As it happened, I discovered musical theater when I turned twenty. I began working in a local community theater where I lived in New Jersey and in two years performed in more than fifteen productions. I got a crash course in musical theater to say the least! I stumbled on an article in a magazine about goal setting and because it made logical sense to me, I started setting some practical goals. Not long after, I was auditioning for roles in New York City. I got my Actors’ Equity card and started doing lots of regional theater, actually surviving as a working
actor—barely.
I began working with an agent, and he secured me an audition for the Broadway national tour of The King and I starring Yul Brynner. My audition was for the role of the understudy for the part of “Anna,” played by Deborah Kerr in the movie. I was a young actress in my twenties, and this was by far the biggest thing that had come along for me. To make a long story short, I got the role of the understudy and happily packed my steamer trunk and went out on the road. I faithfully rehearsed my part never thinking I would ever really get the chance to perform. But when preparation meets opportunity, miracles can happen!
Life Comes at You Fast
About two months into the run of the show, I arrived at the theater around 7:15 p.m. for the 8:00 p.m. curtain only to find out the leading lady was sick and I was going on for the first time as the leading lady in forty-five minutes! I knew my part well but had never worn the costumes or handled the props, let alone been onstage with Yul Brynner! I was freaking out, but I had to focus and get ready. The night turned out well and I got to perform the role of Anna for two weeks while the leading lady was out with pneumonia. In the end, Yul Brynner (who not only starred in the show but was also one of its producers) preferred me in the role so he bought out the leading lady’s contract and offered me the role of a lifetime! It was an amazing time for me. I was privileged to play the part of Anna more than a thousand times, before more than a million theatergoers, over the next two-and-a-half years!
The best part of the entire experience though, was meeting my husband, Mike. He joined the tour about six months into the run of the show as the associate conductor and, as he likes to say, we literally fell in love across the footlights!
After performing eight shows a week for the next two-and-ahalf years, we left the tour, moved back to New York City, got married, bought a little condo in Greenwich Village and began our new life together. A year later, we found ourselves answering an altar call and giving our hearts to the Lord. Franny was born a year later, and we thoroughly enjoyed our new little family amid all the excitement of living and working in the hustle and bustle of New York’s music and theater world.
It wasn’t long, though, before we began to feel the tug on our hearts to lay down the business we had worked so hard to find our way in and follow what God had in store for us next. Bucking conventional wisdom, but following what we believed was God’s best for our family, we eventually left New York and our careers behind to embark on building a new life that included moving to the suburbs, starting a new business, and homeschooling our little girl.
Meet My Husband, Mike
Mike comes from a family without a rich musical heritage. In his case, however, his parents were very encouraging and supported his early interest in music. They purchased the finest musical instruments they could afford, drove him to weekly trumpet lessons at the Juilliard School preparatory division, and sacrificed to send him to National Music Camp in Interlochen, Michigan, during the summer. He later graduated from Interlochen Arts Academy, received his bachelor’s degree from the Eastman School of Music, and went on to earn his master’s and doctorate in music. He was a studio musician and played trumpet and flugelhorn in Broadway pit orchestras and musically directed and conducted on Broadway, on national tour, and at Radio City Music Hall. In his case, he was the first in his family who expressed any gifting in music. Often children inherit their parents’ gifts and carry on the family business, and other times they plow new ground.
With both her parents involved in musical theater professionally, you could say Francesca was destined to go into the arts, and specifically music. It was more likely in her case because of the very musical environment in which she was raised, not to mention being thrown into the deep end of her parent’s gene pool! But not every child’s course is as easy to recognize.
With our daughter, obviously she inherited gifts and talent in music and the performing arts. Our job was to take those gifts and give them shape; give her opportunities to be trained in those areas; and expose her to teachers, classes, and mentors who would take her where God called her to go. We couldn’t assume she was going to follow exactly in our footsteps. And we had to make sure she knew her gifts and talents weren’t what defined her. We were going to love her no matter what life she chose. We had to seek God for His wisdom in her unique expression of her gifts in the performing arts. Our part was to mine those gifts and talents, and her part was to be diligent with what God entrusted to her. Success doesn’t happen by accident. It takes years of hard work.
I believe if we seek Him, God is faithful to put a dream in parents’ hearts for their children. He gives us a sense as they grow. Sometimes it’s just an inkling that turns into a knowing, and over time becomes a certainty. He entrusts the dream to us and gives us the responsibility to dig it out and give it shape. Kids don’t become successful adults by accident.
Success and Environment
In Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers, he writes: People don’t rise from nothing. We do owe something to parentage and patronage. The people who stand before kings may look like they did it all by themselves. But in fact they are invariably the beneficiaries of hidden advantages and extraordinary opportunities and cultural legacies that allow them to learn and work hard and make sense of the world in ways others cannot. It makes a difference where and when we grew up. The culture we belong to and the legacies passed down by our forebears shape the patterns of our achievement in ways we cannot begin to imagine. It’s not enough to ask what successful people are like, in other words. It is only by asking where they are from that we can unravel the logic behind who succeeds and who doesn’t.4
The first place your child is from is you. You will have the biggest impact on his future. How you live, how you love, how you handle money, what you do in your free time, and the standard of integrity and honesty you set in your life—all these things and many more will shape your child into the adult he will become. You alone can give him the “hidden advantages and extraordinary opportunities,” and as you seek the Lord, He’ll show them to you.
How many families do you know whose adult children can’t seem to commit to their own future? And parents who don’t have a clue as to how to guide them? There is a culture of drift all around us—adults with no goals or dreams who are living out their lives in mediocre jobs, having little impact on society. If parents abdicate their responsibility and give it over to the school system or the church, they contribute to the drift. We aren’t supposed to be going nowhere. Destiny connotes a destination. But God won’t do it for you. You have to do it in partnership with God.
Who you are is going to shape who your child becomes. If education is important to you, you will raise your child expecting him to go to college and get good grades, barring any serious learning disabilities. If learning to manage money is important in your family then you will teach your child about budgeting at an early age and require him to earn the money to buy the things he wants and get a job when he is old enough. If parents
are extravagant in their spending their kids will be too! If sports are important in your family, you will set an example by making exercise a priority and being available to coach your child and take him to games and sporting events. If the arts are your passion, you will expose him to great music, museums, ballet, and theatrical productions. If you believe there is greatness in your child, you will find it and find ways to mine it!
It’s All in the Name
When Franny was a preteen, I became curious about what her name meant. I knew that Battistelli meant “to hit the stars” and I wondered what the name Francesca meant. So I looked it up at the bookstore in one of those baby name books. I found out the name Francesca means “free.” I was stunned! It was one more confirmation of what I was beginning to sense about her future, and I excitedly told her and Mike what I’d found. Her name
meant “free to hit the stars.” Talk about a prophetic picture! I was able to encourage her and remind her during down times just what her name meant and the destiny it conveyed.
Personality—Who Is She Like?
One thing that fascinated me when my daughter was young was the difference in our personalities. I’m pretty steady emotionally, calm, cool, and very practical and unsentimental. I love home, family, and the homemaking arts such as cooking, gardening, and so on. My husband is more of a type-A personality. He is a leader, strong-willed, and independent with a strong work ethic and a dedication to personal integrity. Our daughter isn’t exactly like either of us. She is sensitive, emotional, analytical, introverted, and a bit of a perfectionist. She has pieces of both of us but not a full distillation of either mom or dad.
God gave her a unique personality and our job was to parent who she was, not who we may have wanted her to be. Also, we had to be mindful not to superimpose our unfulfilled dreams onto her life. Remember, we had achieved a measure of success in the music and musical theater worlds. It would have been easy to assume she would follow in our footsteps and go into the theater in order to fill up some leftover longing or regret in us. Actually, in our case, knowing what we knew about that world, we purposely tried to steer her away from “the business” early on and focus her on dance. However, by the time she was eleven, she was already involved in professional theater here in Orlando, Florida. She even got mom to be in several shows with her! Often, the acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree!
If your children are young, then now is the time to really be seeking God about their future. It’s never too early to begin, in fact, the earlier the better! You probably already have an idea what their gifts and talents are. Ask God to give you a glimpse into their future. He will lead you step by step as you seek His wisdom in raising your unique child.
There is so much more in our children than we realize, and they are capable of far more than we give them credit for. There are precious metals and rare jewels deep inside your child. You will have to dig them out, but it will be well worth it when you launch them out into life knowing you did everything you could to equip them for success. And by success I mean doing what God has called them to do with passion and purpose and with Christ at the center. Perhaps God will call them into fulltime ministry as a missionary. Maybe He’ll give them a platform in Christian music to influence other young people to pursue God with passion and purity. Maybe your child is called to be a political leader, teacher, business owner, or inventor of something that will change the world. Maybe your daughter wants more than anything to grow up and be a mom, a noble and worthy goal. Whatever God shows you, believe it and get moving. Nothing is more exciting than partnering with God!
Questions to Ask Yourself
Has God given you a dream deep inside for your child?
What gifts and talents is your child expressing?What has God put in your heart about your child’s future?
What personality traits have you observed?
What practical steps can you take to train your child, both in godly principles and in helping them achieve his dreams?
Are you being proactive about your child’s future or are you letting him drift?
Do you believe that greatness resides in your child?
Prayer
Lord, I come humbly before You with wonder and amazement at the precious gift of my child that You have entrusted
to me. The course of this life is in Your hands, and I ask for wisdom and discernment in raising him. Help me to
uncover all the gifts, talents, and callings You have placed deep inside him. I know my child is fearfully and wonderfully
made, and I am excited to discover all You created him to be. Help me to be the parent he needs me to be and to have the ability to equip him to fulfill every dream in Your heart for him. Give me eyes to see and ears to hear as I raise him. Help me to be an example of integrity, humility, honesty, and diligence in all that I do. I pray this in Jesus’s name!

Firethorn, Discarded Heroes #4, by Ronie Kendig

2012-01-24T10:02:00.000-05:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Ronie Kendig

and the book:

Firethorn, Discarded Heroes #4

Barbour Books; Discarded Heroes edition (2012)

***Special thanks to Ronie Kendig for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

An Army brat, Ronie Kendig grew up in the classic military family, with her father often TDY and her mother holding down the proverbial fort. Their family moved often, which left Ronie attending six schools by the time she’d entered fourth grade. Her only respite and “friends” during this time were the characters she created.

It was no surprise when she married a military veteran—her real-life hero—in June 1990. Married more than twenty years, Ronie and her husband, Brian, homeschool their four children, the first of whom graduated in 2011. Despite the craziness of life, Ronie finds balance and peace with her faith, family and their three dogs in Dallas, TX.

Ronie has a deep love and passion for people, especially hurting people, which is why she pursued and obtained a B.S. in Psychology from Liberty University. Ronie is an active member of the American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) and has volunteered extensively, serving in a variety of capacities from coordinator of a national contest to appointment assistant at the national annual conference.

Since launching onto the publishing scene in 2010, Ronie and her books have been gained critical acclaim and national attention, including:

Finalist in Christian Retailing’s 2011 Readers’ Choice Awards (Nightshade)
RWA’s Faith, Hope, & Love’s 2011 Inspirational Readers’ Choice Awards in Romantic Suspense (Nightshade)
Named one of the Top 25 Christian Fiction Suspense, Mystery, and Thriller Writers by FamilyFiction (Sept 2011)
2011 FamilyFiction Readers’ Choice Awards – 3^rd place as New Favorite Author, 8^th place with Nightshade for Novel of the Year.
INSPY Award Shortlist final in Mystery/Thriller (Dead Reckoning)
The Christian Manifesto’s 2010 Lime Award for Excellence in Christian Fiction (Nightshade)

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Blown and dismantled, Nightshade is ready to repay the favor.

Former Marine and current Nightshade team member Griffin "Legend" Riddell is comfortable. So comfortable he never sees the set up that lands him in a maximum security prison, charged with murder. How can he prove his innocence behind bars?

Covert operative Kazi Faron is tasked with reassembling Nightshade—the black ops team someone dissected. Breaking Griffin out of a federal penitentiary amid explosive confusion may turn out to be her last assignment. What will it take to convince the fugitive that whoever set him up has also dissected the Nightshade team? As Kazi and Griffin race to rescue the others and discover the traitor,
love begins to awaken in their hearts.

Can a covert operative and the felon she's freed overcome their mutual distrust long enough to save Nightshade? Will anything prepare them for who—or what is coming?

Product Details:

List Price: $12.99

Paperback: 352 pages
Publisher: Barbour Books; Discarded Heroes edition (2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1602607850
ISBN-13: 978-1602607859

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

To all American military heroes

At home and abroad,

Those who have gone before

and those serving today—

THANK YOU!

Because of you, we are FREE!

RECON CREED

Realizing it is my choice and my choice alone to be a Reconnaissance Marine, I accept all challenges involved with this profession. Forever shall I strive to maintain the tremendous reputation of those who went before me.
Exceeding beyond the limitations set down by others shall be my goal. Sacrificing personal comforts and dedicating myself to the completion of the reconnaissance mission shall be my life. Physical fitness, mental attitude, and high ethics—The title of Recon Marine is my honor.
Conquering all obstacles, both large and small, I shall never quit. To quit, to surrender, to give up is to fail. To be a Recon Marine is to surpass failure; To overcome, to adapt and to do whatever it takes to complete the mission.
On the battlefield, as in all areas of life, I shall stand tall above the competition. Through professional pride, integrity, and teamwork, I shall be the example for all Marines to emulate.
Never shall I forget the principles I accepted to become a Recon Marine. Honor, Perseverance, Spirit, and Heart.
A Recon Marine can speak without saying a word and achieve what others can only imagine.

Swift, Silent, Deadly

Chapter 1

The Shack
      “It’s sad, really.” Marshall “The Kid” Vaughn trudged away from the thumping rotors of the helo that had deposited them back at the Shack, his pack almost dragging the ground. “Ya don’t realize how much a person adds until he’s gone.”
      “Legend’s not gone.” Max “Frogman” Jacobs hoisted his rucksack into a better group, his mind locked on Sydney and their two sons waiting for him at home. Poor woman had to be going out of her mind with two of his Mini-Me’s running around.
      “Yeah.” John “Squirt” Dighton hit the light breaker, then waited for the six-man team to clear the door. “He’s just temporarily detained.”
      Lights sizzled and popped to life. Groaning bounced off the grimy windows as he hauled the door closed, locked it, then started toward the showers.
      The Kid grunted. “Forty-years-to-life temporary.”
      In the locker room, a depressive gloom hung over the team. They’d been on countless missions, hit just about every terrain and environment imaginable, but none had taken the toll the last couple had. And there was one reason—they were down a man. Griffin “Legend” Riddell. If Max could write the playbook, they wouldn’t do another mission without the guy. But with the man in federal prison for murdering a congressman, it’d be a long wait.
      It was quiet. Too quiet. Max looked around the Spartan room. Walls of lockers, most unused. A few benches. A giant once-white bin for dirty duds. And the team. Six men, now. All very skilled. Good men. Even the one missing. Every man here knew Legend had been set up—he didn’t murder that congressman. But nobody could prove it. The evidence was damning. Justice—injustice was more like it—came swiftly. Lambert, ever the puppeteer, couldn’t pull the right strings to get Legend off.
      “I’m heading up to visit him tomorrow. Anyone game?” Colton “Cowboy” Neeley slumped on a bench and ran a hand over his short, dark hair. His blue eyes probed the group.
      “Nah, man. I’ve got a date,” the Kid said.
      Squirt beaned him with a towel. “What girl would go out with you, mate?”
      The Kid snapped the terry cloth back at the former Navy SEAL. “Your sister.”
      Squirt froze. His jaw went slack. Then his eyes darkened.
      Laughing, Canyon “Midas” Metcalfe rose to his feet from the corner. “You just proved his point by thinking your sister would actually go out with him.”
      Squirt swallowed, his face drained of color. “I introduced them at a New Year’s party.”
      Midas laughed harder. “Your mistake, mate.”
      Shuffling closer, Squirt pointed a finger at the Kid. “I swear, you touch her, I’ll shove a fist full of witchety grubs down your gullet.”
      “Give me credit, dude.” The Kid raised his hands. “I’m a gentleman.”
      Max grunted. “Right.” As he strode around the lockers to the shower well, he heard more threats and much more laughter from the Kid. Max shook his head. Would the Kid ever grow up, learn when to leave things alone?
      As he tossed his oily, grimy duds on the bench, Max paused, thinking maybe he should send his report to Lambert now so he wouldn’t have to mess with it tomorrow. The mission had been simple enough, a snatch-n-grab of an Iranian doctor. It’d been nice and clean, in and out. The report wouldn’t take long. Then he could shower, bug out, and know he had the whole weekend with Syd and the boys.
      Max jogged up the iron stairs, which creaked and groaned beneath his weight. Down the hall to the right. He punched in the code and entered the secure hub, the door hissing shut behind him. The most high-tech part of this dump-of-a-warehouse.
      Shouts drew his attention to the blinds. He jabbed two fingers between a couple and spread them to peeked down into the main area. Squirt and the Kid raced into the bay and back the way they came. Squirt looked ready to kill. The Kid’s face revealed his fear. Max shook his head again. Man, he wanted Griffin back. The guy seemed to bring balance to the team. Badly needed balance.
      Max powered up the computer. Hand propped on the warped wood, he waited for the system to boot.
      More shouts. Loud thuds.
      He pinched the bridge of his nose. Would they never—?
      Tat-a-tat! Tat-tat-a-tat!
      Instinct drove Max to his knee at the sound of gunfire. He scrambled to the window. Through the slanted blinds, he peered down into the slab of cement. His brain wouldn’t assemble what he saw. Gunmen. A dozen or more. Rushing into the Shack from the parking bay. Moving swiftly, as if. . .
      They know the layout.
      Max darted to the door and jerked it open. He sprinted down the hall toward the stairs. As his boot hit steel, he froze. A shadow emerged. Floated into the hall.
      Too late.
      Max jerked back. Pressed his spine against the wall.
      By the showers, the Kid looked up. Max signaled to him. Then made his best and loudest Nightshade whistle, hoping it would penetrate the building, give the men warning to take cover.
      The Kid threw himself back into the locker room.
      Men swarmed the corner. One looked to his left, one right. His weapon slowly rose as he traced the stairs with his M16.
      Max leapt backward into the darkness and into office. He closed the door. As the lock clicked, darkness dropped like an anchor over the entire building. Behind him, a glow screamed his location. The monitor!
      Max spun. Lunged across the desk. Stabbed the power button. And paused with his hand still near the monitor. If someone was coming after them. . .accessing this computer. . .
      On his knees, Max yanked the cords free. With the box, he moved to the window and reassessed the parking bay. Another van with a half-dozen men with AK-47s. They streamed into the warehouse.
      Max’s gut wound into a dozen knots. They were screwed.
      Think! Hand on the door, he considered going back downstairs. But that would get him captured. Killed. Yet he’d rather be with his guys than running like a chicken.
      No, not running. Considering options, gaining the advantage. Planning. The invasion force was armed to the teeth. They knew who they were coming after. They’d brought weapons. And those guys moved with precision. Swift, deadly precision.
      Though Nightshade had a stellar ops record, perhaps they had finally met their match. Still. . .two to one? Nightshade had faced worse.
      A large black Suburban screeched to a halt in the middle of the parking bay. Two men emerged, both wearing trench coats.
      Max cursed his luck to be up here, away from his gear, his weapons. Up here, without firepower. Thus, powerless.
      Okay, enough. He was going down there. He eased the door open and slid across the hall. Bathed in darkness, he crouched at edge of the landing, using the wall for cover. A dozen men so far, rushing here and there. Quick, quiet chatter between the men.
      A smirk slid into Max’s face. His team had taken cover and these goons couldn’t find them. If he could just get a weapon. . .
      “Can’t find them.”
      “They’re here. I saw them go in,” the man nearest the SUV shouted. “Find them! Lights!”
      Light rushed through the building as headlamps from the vehicles stabbed the dusty, damp building. Max yanked back, out of sight. He needed to get down there, defend his men. His boot hit the landing.
      Shouts erupted. A shot bounced off the steel rafters, taunting as it echoed through the Shack. Stilled, Max waited. More shouts. The sound of a scuffle. The half-dozen men waiting by the SUV lifted their weapons to the ready.
      The locker room door swung open. A man walked backward, his AK-47 aimed at a large form filling the doorway. Cowboy. Arms raised, dressed only in his jeans, he stalked forward. Someone shoved him from behind, which barely moved the big lug.
      Spine pressed against the wood, Max peered down into the bay.
      “You move one wrong muscle,” the one in front of Cowboy growled, “and so help me God, I’ll kill you.”
      “No you won’t.” Cowboy lowered his hands. “If you wanted me dead, I wouldn’t be out here.”
      Ride ’em, Cowboy.
      From the side entrance to the showers, three men dragged a shouting, cursing Kid into the bay. Max smirked that it took three tangos to wrangle the Kid.
      Hand clenched, Max’s mind went into overdrive. What could he do? God. . .I need. . .something. What could he pray for? Intercepting the team was impossible. Twelve, fifteen armed tangos against one unarmed man?
      He latched on to the hope that they’d only found Cowboy and the Kid. No Midas, Squirt, or Aladdin. Good. Maybe they could regroup and—
      A man flew through the bay door from the showers and landed with a thud a yard from the others. Midas flipped over, scissored his legs, and swept the thug off his feet. The Kid seized the confusion to attack the men guarding him. And impressively. With a hard right, he dropped the first and used that weapon to disable the second.
      Cowboy took a step back and rammed his elbow into the gut of the nearest guard. The gunman bent forward—straight into Cowboy’s meaty fist. The big guy pivoted, slapped the interior of the gunman’s wrist, effectively seizing the weapon and flipping the muzzle around. He fired at the guy.
      Crack!
      In the split second it took for Max to realize the sonic boom that rent the air wasn’t the report of Cowboy’s .45 MEU but of a rifle, Max saw the man in the black trench coat drop to the ground. A circle spread out like a dark halo.
      “Sniper!” someone shouted.
      The dead guy had fallen backward. Most likely shot from the front. Which meant. . . Max’s gaze rose to the rafters. With no light, it’d be the perfect hiding spot. But. . .who? Squirt? Aladdin?
      Crack!
      The man guarding Colton stumbled forward, then went to his knees before hitting the cement.
      The man in the black trench coat nearest the SUV dropped. A pool of blood spilled out.
      “There!” One guard swung and fired his fully automatic at the ceiling. Four others followed suit, firing at the bank of grimy windows on the southeast wall of the building.
      Max followed their direction and watched. Waited, his breath caught at the back of his throat. Cracks and shattering glass blended with the staccato punches of the guns to create a wild cacophony of noise. Max tuned it out, praying whoever—Aladdin or Squirt—wouldn’t be hit.
      But then he saw it. A shift of a shadow. Like someone rolling. . .
      The gunfire petered out as a body plummeted the eight feet to the ground.
      The thud seemed to have supernatural powers as it pounded Max’s chest and pushed him back. Away from the window but not far enough that he lost line of sight.
      Silence dropped on the Shack.
      “Where’s Max Jacobs?”
      As the question streaked through the warehouse, Max registered a red glow in the far corner. Even as he noticed it, he heard a beep. Another. His gaze darted to the source of the noise. Two men were walking the perimeter, their M16s dangling as they raised their arms and pressed something against the supports. Arms lowered and the men stepped back revealing gray bricks with wires.
      Explosives.
      Gotta stop this. Do something. His gaze collided with Cowboy’s. The big lug gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
      Max’s nostrils flared as he wrestled with what to do.
      “Where’s Dighton?”
      How do they know our names?
      “Dead,” someone answered.
      Pulled back into the shadows, Max clenched his eyes and bit down on his tongue. Dighton was dead. What about Aladdin—had he survived the fall?
      Sirens wailed in the distance.
      “Load ’em up.”
      “What about Jacobs?”
      “Outta time.” The leader left as the gunmen dragged the team out of the building.
      Stealthily, Max held on to the box and sprinted the length of the hall to the side of the Shack. In the conference room, he plunged toward the window. Craned his neck to peek out. Three vehicles—twin white vans and a black town car.
      The guys were loaded into the van and one into the car.
      The leader shifted, held something out, then it wavered.
      Detonator.
      Max spun around, searching for an out. Doors. Only one way down—the stairs. But they led to the bay, which would be engulfed.
      Windows. Overlooked the dock. The canal. It was January. The water would be brutal cold. His split-second assessment told him no matter what route he took, it’d be deadly. Despite his training, if he didn’t find shelter out of the water once he broke surface, he’d die an ice cube. If he stayed, he’d die a fireball.
      Good thing SEALs are insulated against cold water.
      Max vaulted toward the window, hurtling the computer through the window. The glass shattered as a violent force blasted through the air. It lifted him. Up. . .up. . . Flipped him. Searing pain sliced through his arm. Heat stroked his back and legs. Fire chased him out of the building. Into the night.
      Boom!
      Another wave slammed into him. Threw him backward. Toward the water.
      Something punched his gut. Knocked the breath from his lungs.
      Bright white lit the night. Blinded him. Then—almost instantaneously—black. Pure black. And he was falling. . .down. . .down. . .

Ro n i e K e n d i g

Firethorn

Discarded Heroes # 4

OTHER BOOKS BY RONIE KENDIG

Nightshade (Discarded Heroes #1)

Digitalis (Discarded Heroes #2)

Wolfsbane (Discarded Heroes #3)

ISBN 978-1-60260-0785-9
Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

For more information about Ronie Kendig, please access the author’s Web site at the following Internet address: www.roniekendig.com

Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, OH 44683,

www.barbourbooks.com

Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

Printed in the United States of America.

My Thoughts:

This fast-paced action-packed novel (with a side of romance) is guaranteed to keep you on the edge of your seat and flipping the pages as you get lost in the suspense! I will warn you - don't even think about starting this book before bedtime, because you will certainly be losing lots of sleep since you won't be unable to put it aside!

I have never read any of Ronie Kending's books before, so I'm starting in a well established series. With that said, I didn't have any problems starting with this book as it is well done enough to be a stand-alone. However, with that said, I know I've missed a lot with 3 books before, and after enjoying this one the way I did, I'm going to make sure to add the rest of the series to my must read list! Ronie has pushed herself onto my favorite authors list with just this one book!

If you enjoy Jeff Struecker, Robin Caroll, military fiction or just a great suspense novel, you will certainly enjoy "Firethorn". This one comes highly recommended!

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Firethorn, Discarded Heroes #4, by Ronie Kendig

At home and abroad,

Those who have gone before

and those serving today—

THANK YOU!

Because of you, we are FREE!

OTHER BOOKS BY RONIE KENDIG

Nightshade (Discarded Heroes #1)

Digitalis (Discarded Heroes #2)

Wolfsbane (Discarded Heroes #3)

© 2011 by Ronie Kendig

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

For more information about Ronie Kendig, please access the author’s Web site at the following Internet address: www.roniekendig.com

Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, OH 44683,

www.barbourbooks.com

Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

Printed in the United States of America.