~Some of My Favorite Books~

Awesome deal from Amazon.com!!!

2011-01-19T17:56:00.000-05:00

I know I haven't been around for the past couple of months, and won't be for the unforeseen future. I hope to post a more detailed explanation at some point.

Anyway, I just had to come post this absolutely AWESOME deal Amazon is offering. If you click HERE, you can purchase a $20 Amazon.com gift card for ONLY $10!! 50% off! That's unheard of!

I've already bought mine, but wanted to share it with my best blogger buds. If this is something you're interested in, hurry on over and get your gift card. This special offer ends early tomorrow (Thursday) morning.

I miss y'all so much! *BIG hugs!*

Happy Reading :)

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

2010-12-25T00:00:00.001-05:00

I hope everyone has a very Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!!

*HUGS*

Still around!

2010-12-11T00:04:00.003-05:00

Hello friends!

Yes, I'm still alive and kicking, but don't have much spare time to even read right now, much less blog. I really miss y'all, and hope everyone is doing well. It's been crazy hectic around here for the last few months. Hubby has been having to travel for work quite a bit lately, so that leaves me all on my lonesome to take care of things here at home. It's really been cutting into my precious reading time. :( He just this evening got back from a 3-day trip to New York, where it was 16-17 degrees, and snowed most of the time he was there. I was totally bummed to not have been allowed to tag along (as it was a business trip) -- I would have loved to try and meet up with Renee and a few other friends up that way. Maybe one day! *fingers crossed*

Well, it's almost Christmas -- again! I simply can not believe how quickly 2010 has flown by -- it just blows my mind! It seems like just last week I was starting my part-time job, which I still love, btw, and planning our summer vacation with my family.

Another reason I haven't been posting any reviews lately is that I was getting really burned out on Christian Fiction romances, and decided to take a much needed break. I've been mixing it up by reading some secular romances, plus, I've finally decided to test out the very popular "vampire" craze. Nothing deep and dark for me though, just some lite, comedic, chick lit -- thank you very much! ;)

Of course, I've read a few Christmas-themed romances already, but not nearly as many as I'd planned on reading. Maybe I can get to more of those come January. I hope everyone has a very Merry Christmas, as well as, a Happy New Year. I'm telling y'all now, jic I don't get a chance to post again before the end of the year!

*yawn* My eyes are starting to cross, and I can hardly keep them open -- I guess that means it's time to head to bed. I hope y'all have a wonderful weekend.

*Hugs & Kisses*

My Review: A Tailor-Made Bride -- Karen Witemeyer

2010-11-08T23:00:00.000-05:00

A Tailor-Made Bride

by Karen Witemeyer

Historical / Christian Fiction / Romance

Bethany House Publishers
Copyright 2010

Back Cover:

Jericho "J.T." Tucker wants nothing to do with the new dressmaker in Coventry, Texas. He's all too familiar with her kind--shallow women more devoted to fashion than true beauty. Yet, except for her well-tailored clothes, this seamstress is not at all what he expected.

Hannah Richards is confounded by the man who runs the livery. The unsmiling fellow riles her with his arrogant assumptions and gruff manner while at the same time stirring her heart with unexpected acts of kindness. Which side of Jericho Tucker reflects the real man?

When Hannah decides to help Jericho's sister catch a beau--leading to consequences neither could have foreseen--will Jericho and Hannah find a way to bridge the gap between them?

What I thought:

It was a real pleasure getting to know the folks of Coventry, Texas -- and I already miss them!

The romantic tension between J.T. and Hannah is the main focus of the book, but some of the other townsfolk added an extra spark to the story. I especially loved Ezra Culpepper, a lonely old gentleman Hannah takes under her wing, and Tom, J.T.'s friend/helper at the livery. There are lots more, but those 2 stood out especially.

When J.T. learns the new business that's opening up across the street from his livery will be a dressmaker, he is beyond annoyed. He had plans for that particular building, but will have to find another way to be a Good Samaritan. He has a soft spot in his heart for the people in his town, and will do anything in his power to help them out -- especially when it comes to women and children.

Hannah and J.T. have not seen eye-to-eye from day one. She can't figure out what she's done to get J.T. so riled up, but she sure plans to find out. It's very worrisome for her to constantly be wondering what will set him off next. Hannah quickly becomes friends with J.T.'s sister, Delia, who helps her immensely in understanding what makes J.T. tick.

If you haven't had a chance to read Karen's debut release, be sure to pick up a copy as soon as you can -- you don't know what you're missing! I'm already looking forward to reading her next book, Head in the Clouds, though it will not be continuing the story of the wonderful folks of Coventry, Texas. However, Karen does have Bonus Material posted on her website, for those of us who wanted to find out more about Hannah and J.T.'s happy-ever-after. Check it out!

*Thank you to Karen for sending me a copy for review. In no way did her kindness influence my thoughts on her book.*

Waiting on Wednesday

2010-11-03T01:15:00.001-04:00

Jill @ Breaking the Spine hosts a weekly event that spotlights

upcoming releases we're eagerly anticipating.
Be sure to drop by her blog to see what books others

are looking forward to reading. :)

Releasing MAY 2011 from Revell Books!!!

It is 1878 and the Caldwells and Wainwrights have been feuding for decades. Still, Sarah Caldwell has misgivings when her father pressures her into distracting a ranch hand while he and her brothers rob the Wainwright place. When it becomes clear that hand is actually Cord Wainwright, Sarah realizes she needs to lay low. But Cord spots her in town and, with the sheriff away, makes a citizen's arrest, dragging her off to the Wainwright ranch until the sheriff's return. As the feud boils over, Cord and Sarah make a most inconvenient discovery--they are falling in love. Can they betray their families for love? Or will their families betray them?

Against the beautiful and wild backdrop of the Rocky Mountains comes this sweeping saga of romance, betrayal, and forgiveness from beloved author Kathleen Morgan.

My Review: Love Me Tender -- Janice Hanna

2010-10-30T15:16:00.000-04:00

Love Me Tender
(When I Fall in Love)

by Janice Hanna

General Fiction / Romance / Christian

Summerside Press

ISBN: 9781609360177

Back Cover:

Debbie Carmichael determines to salvage her family's restaurant, Sweet Sal's Soda Shoppe, from financial ruin when her father's health fails. Help is in sight when teen heartthrob Bobby Conrad agrees to perform at a fund-raiser concert. But just two weeks before the highly publicized event, plans fall through and Bobby can't come. Enter Johnny Hartman, a young, unknown singer.

Debbie soon realizes the twists and turns leading up to the concert have been divinely orchestrated. But is it the dreamy Bobby Conrad who ultimately steals her heart...or the tender Johnny Hartman?

What I thought:

Love Me Tender was different than any romance I've read to date. It was my very first experience reading a book in this particular era -- and I found it to be quite interesting. I would love to read more about the Carmichael family, at some point, if Janice decides to make this the start of a new series.

The year is 1957. The Ed Sullivan Show and American Bandstand are all the rage. New talent is showing up left and right. Johnny Hartman comes to Los Angeles, California to follow his dream of becoming a famous singer. He feels that God is leading him to witness to others through his amazing singing ability. After his very first audition, Johnny meets Jim Jangles, who quickly becomes his agent. Johnny moves in with Jim, his wife Theresa, and their son, Toby -- they become his away-from-home family. Toby adds a comedic aspect to the story, as he is always trying to talk his Dad into letting him audition for small parts in commercials, singing auditions, plays, etc. He's a real pistol!

Debbie Carmichael lives in Laguna Beach, California, with her family. She helps run their family restaurant, Sweet Sal's Soda Shoppe. Debbie comes up with a great idea to help her family out of their financial dilemma, brought on by her father's ailing health. They should invite Bobby Conrad to perform a benefit concert at the Soda Shoppe, and take donations instead of selling tickets. Debbie, her sister, Becky Ann, and their friends work very hard to get the news of the upcoming concert out to the public by posting flyers all over town. The women in Laguna Beach go gaa-gaa over Bobby, and are beyond excited that he will be singing for them!

When Debbie and Johnny meet for the first time, sparks seem to fly between them. Johnny falls for Debbie almost immediately, but she's still hung up on her teenage crush, Bobby Conrad. The more time they spend together, Debbie starts to see Johnny in a different light -- maybe she should listen to her heart this time.

Due to an unforeseen scheduling conflict, Bobby Conrad isn't gonna be able to perform the concert! Debbie, Becky Ann, and their friends are just devastated -- what are they gonna do? -- and on such short notice. Thankfully, Debbie comes up with an iffy plan, and prays really hard that the folks of Laguna Beach will be happy with Bobby's replacement, Johnny Hartman.

To find out more about Janice Hanna Thompson, stop by her website, or blog to find out what she's been up to.

Click HERE to read an interview with the stars of Love Me Tender!!

*A sincere "thank you" to Janice for providing me with a copy of her book for review!*

My Review: Emily's Chance -- Sharon Gillenwater

2010-10-29T23:32:00.004-04:00

Emily's Chance

(The Callahans of Texas, #2)

by Sharon Gillenwater

Christian Fiction / Western Romance

Revell Publishing

ISBN: 9780800733544

Back Cover:

Emily Rose may be in the tiny West Texas town of Callahan Crossing for the moment, but it's just a rung on her ladder to success. Her work at the Callahan Crossing historical society will look good on her ever-growing resume as she attempts to break into the prestigious world of a big city museum curator.

Little does she know cowboy and contractor Chance Callahan has decided that he can convince her to stay -- both with the town and with him. As he helps Emily restore the town's history after a devastating fire, he also helps her uncover her own hidden worth and the value of love.

What I thought:

Another keeper from Sharon Gillenwater!!

After first meeting the Callahans of Texas in Jenna's Cowboy, I couldn't wait to get my hands on Emily's Chance. Now, I'm impatiently waiting to see what takes place in Megan's Hero (due out 6/1/2011) -- it sounds like another touching story.

We very briefly met Emily Rose at the end of Jenna and Nate's story, when Chance helped her haul boxes out of the Callahan Crossing Historical Museum during the wildfire that destroyed so many homes and businesses. Emily's Chance picks up shortly after. The people of Callahan Crossing are still trying to clean up their town, and rebuild their lives after such devastating losses.

Chance realizes right off the bat that he's fallen head-over-heels for Emily Rose, and feels that she is God's choice for his wife -- now he just needs to be sure Emily feels the same way. He discovers that it won't be as easy as he thought, once he begins to realize she has quite a few issues from her childhood that seriously cloud her vision of her worthiness to any man.

I'm not a huge history fan, so there were a few slower parts (for me personally), but the overall story is heartwarming. I especially like how Chance is so patient with Emily, as she tries to come to terms with her insecurities, and his willingness to sacrifice things in his own life just to help her achieve her personal dreams.

It was such a pleasure to catch-up with the Callahan family again. I really enjoyed getting a peek at how Jenna and Nate's marriage is progressing, as well as, seeing Zach again. He's just the sweetest little boy ever! I also loved watching Dalton and Lindsey's tentative relationship start to grow -- they're gonna make such a cute couple. :)

Be sure to check out Sharon's website to find out more about her books -- you'll be so glad you did!

Click HERE to read my review of Jenna's Cowboy (The Callahans of Texas, #1).

Available October 2010 at your favorite bookseller from
Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.

*Compliments of Donna @ Revell Publishing -- thank you!*

My Favorite Cover

2010-10-22T08:00:00.000-04:00

Larkspur Cove

by Lisa Wingate

Release date: 1/1/2011

Christian Fiction / Contemporary Romance

Bethany House

ISBN: 9780764208218

Synopsis:

Adventure is the last thing on Andrea Henderson's mind when she moves to Moses Lake. After surviving the worst year of her life, she's struggling to build a new life for herself and her son as a social worker. Perhaps in doing a job that makes a difference, she can find some sense of purpose and solace in her shattered faith.

For new Moses Lake game warden Mart McClendon, finding a sense of purpose in life isn't an issue. He took the job to get out of southwest Texas and the constant reminders of a tragedy for which he can't forgive himself.

But when a little girl is seen with the town recluse, Mart and Andrea are drawn together in the search for her identity. The little girl offers them both a new chance at redemption and hope—and may bring them closer than either ever planned.

FIRST Wild Card: Two Tickets to the Christmas Ball -- Donita K. Paul

2010-10-21T08:00:00.000-04:00

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:

Donita K. Paul

and the book:

Two Tickets to the Christmas Ball

WaterBrook Press (October 5, 2010)

***Special thanks to Ashley Boyer and Staci Carmichael of Waterbrook Multnomah for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Expertly weaving together fantasy, romance and Biblical truths, Donita K. Paul penned the best-selling, fan-favorite DragonKeeper Chronicles series. After retiring early from teaching, she began a second career as an award-winning author and loves serving as a mentor for new writers of all ages. And when she’s not putting pen to paper, Donita makes her home in Colorado Springs and enjoys spending time with her grandsons, cooking, beading, stamping, and knitting.

Visit the author's website.

Product Details:

List Price: $14.99
Hardcover: 240 pages
Publisher: WaterBrook Press (October 5, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0307458997
ISBN-13: 978-0307458995

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Christmas. Cora had been trying to catch it for four years. She scurried down the sidewalk, thankful that streetlights and brightly lit storefronts counteracted the gloom of early nightfall. Somewhere, sometime, she’d get a hold of how to celebrate Christmas. Maybe even tonight.

With snowflakes sticking to her black coat, Christmas lights blinking around shop windows, and incessant bells jingling, Cora should have felt some holiday cheer.

And she did.

Really.

Just not much.

At least she was on a Christmas errand this very minute. One present for a member of the family. Shouldn’t that count for a bit of credit in the Christmas-spirit department?

Cora planned out her Christmas gift giving in a reasonable manner. The execution of her purchasing schedule gave her a great deal of satisfaction. Tonight’s quest was a book for Uncle Eric—something about knights and castles, sword fights, shining armor, and all that.

One or two gifts purchased each week from Labor Day until December 15, and her obligations were discharged efficiently, economically, and without the excruciating last-minute frenzy that descended upon other people…like her three sisters, her mother, her grandmother, her aunts.

Cora refused to behave like her female relatives and had decided not to emulate the male side of the family either. The men didn’t buy gifts. They sometimes exchanged bottles from the liquor store, but more often they drank the spirits themselves.

Her adult ambition had been to develop her own traditions for the season, ones that sprouted from the Christianity she’d discovered in college. The right way to celebrate the birth of Christ. She avoided the chaos that could choke Christmas. Oh dear. Judgmental again. At least now she recognized when she slipped.

She glanced around Sage Street. Not too many shoppers. The quaint old shops were decked out for the holidays, but not with LED bulbs and inflated cartoon figures.

Since discovering Christianity, she’d been confused about the trappings of Christmas—the gift giving, the nativity scenes, the carols, even the Christmas tree. Every year she tried to acquire some historical background on the festivities. She was learning. She had hope. But she hadn’t wrapped her head around all the traditions yet.

The worst part was shopping.

Frenzy undid her. Order sustained her. And that was a good reason to steer clear of any commercialized holiday rush. She’d rather screw red light bulbs into plastic reindeer faces than push through a crowd of shoppers.

Cora examined the paper in her hand and compared it to the address above the nearest shop. Number 483 on the paper and 527 on the building. Close.

When she’d found the bookstore online, she had been amazed that a row of old-fashioned retailers still existed a few blocks from the high-rise office building where she worked. Truthfully, it was more like the bookstore found her. Every time she opened her browser, and on every site she visited, the ad for the old-fashioned new- and used-book store showed up in a banner or sidebar. She’d asked around, but none of her co-workers patronized the Sage Street Shopping District.

“Sounds like a derelict area to me,” said Meg, the receptionist. “Sage Street is near the old railroad station, isn’t it? The one they decided was historic so they wouldn’t tear it down, even though it’s empty and an eyesore?”

An odd desire to explore something other than the mall near her apartment seized Cora. “I’m going to check it out.”

Jake, the security guard, frowned at her. “Take a cab. You don’t want to be out too late over there.”

Cora walked. The brisk air strengthened her lungs, right? The exercise pumped her blood, right? A cab would cost three, maybe four dollars, right?

An old man, sitting on the stoop of a door marked 503, nodded at her. She smiled, and he winked as he gave her a toothless grin. Startled, she quickened her pace and gladly joined the four other pedestrians waiting at the corner for the light to change.

Number 497 emblazoned the window of an ancient shoe store on the opposite corner. She marched on. In this block she’d find the book and check another item off her Christmas list.

Finally! “Warner, Werner, and Wizbotterdad, Books,” Cora read the sign aloud and then grasped the shiny knob. It didn’t turn. She frowned. Stuck? Locked? The lights were on. She pressed her face against the glass. A man sat at the counter. Reading. How appropriate.

Cora wrenched the knob. A gust of wind pushed with her against the door, and she blew into the room. She stumbled and straightened, and before she could grab the door and close it properly, it swung closed, without the loud bang she expected.

“I don’t like loud noises,” the man said without looking up from his book.

“Neither do I,” said Cora.

He nodded over his book. With one gnarled finger, he pushed his glasses back up his nose.

Must be an interesting book. Cora took a quick look around. The place could use stronger lights. She glanced back at the clerk. His bright lamp cast him and his book in a golden glow.

Should she peruse the stacks or ask?

She decided to browse. She started to enter the aisle between two towering bookcases.

“Not there,” said the old man.

“I beg your pardon?” said Cora.

“How-to books. How to fix a leaky faucet. How to build a bridge. How to mulch tomatoes. How to sing opera. How-to books. You don’t need to know any of that, do you?”

“No.”

“Wrong aisle, then.” He placed the heavy volume on the counter and leaned over it, apparently absorbed once more.

Cora took a step toward him. “I think I saw a movie like this once.”

His head jerked up, his scowl heavier. He glared over the top of his glasses at the books on the shelves as if they had suddenly moved or spoken or turned bright orange.

“A movie? Here? I suppose you mean the backdrop of a bookstore. Not so unusual.” He arched an eyebrow. “You’ve Got Mail and 84 Charing Cross Road.”

“I meant the dialogue. You spoke as if you knew what I needed.”

He hunched his shoulders. The dark suspenders stretched across the faded blue of his shirt. “Reading customers. Been in the business a long time.”

“I’m looking for a book for my uncle. He likes castles, knights, tales of adventure. That sort of thing.”

He sighed, closed his book, and tapped its cover. “This is it.” He stood as Cora came to the desk. “Do you want me to wrap it and send it? We have the service. My grandson’s idea.”

Cora schooled her face and her voice. One of the things she excelled in was not showing her exasperation. She’d been trained by a dysfunctional family, and that had its benefits. She knew how to take guff and not give it back. Maintaining a calm attitude was a good job skill.

She tried a friendly smile and addressed the salesclerk.

“I want to look at it first and find out how much it costs.”

“It’s the book you want, and the price is eleven dollars and thirteen cents.”

Cora rubbed her hand over the cover. It looked and felt like leather, old leather, but in good repair. The book must be ancient.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Which?” the old man barked.

“Which what?”

“Which part of the statement am I sure about? It doesn’t matter because I’m sure about both.”

Cora felt her armor of detachment suffer a dent. The man was impossible. She could probably order a book online and get it wrapped and delivered right to her uncle with less aggravation. But dollar signs blinked in neon red in her mind as she thought how much that would cost. No need to be hasty.

Curtain rings rattled on a rod, and Cora looked up to see a younger version of the curmudgeon step into the area behind the counter.

The younger man smiled. He had the same small, wiry build as the older version, but his smile was warm and genuine. He looked to be about fifty, but his hair was still black, as black as the old man’s hair was white. He stretched out his hand, and Cora shook it.

“I’m Bill Wizbotterdad. This is my granddad, William Wizbotterdad.”

“Let me guess. Your father is named Will?”

Bill grinned, obviously pleased she’d caught on quickly. “Willie Wizbotterdad. He’s off in Europe collecting rare books.”

“He’s not!” said the elder shop owner.

“He is.” Bill cast his granddad a worried look.

“That’s just the reason he gave for not being here.” William shook his head and leaned across the counter. “He doesn’t like Christmas. We have a special job to do at Christmas, and he doesn’t like people and dancing and matrimony.”

Bill put his arm around his grandfather and pulled him back. He let go of his granddad and spun the book on the scarred wooden counter so that Cora could read the contents. “Take a look.” He opened the cover and flipped through the pages. “Colored illustrations.”

A rattling of the door knob was followed by the sound of a shoulder thudding against the wood. Cora turned to see the door fly open with a tall man attached to it. The stranger brushed snow from his sleeves, then looked up at the two shop owners. Cora caught them giving each other a smug smile, a wink, and a nod of the head.

Odd. Lots of oddness in this shop.

She liked the book, and she wanted to leave before more snow accumulated on the streets. Yet something peculiar about this shop and the two men made her curious. Part of her longed to linger. However, smart girls trusted their instincts and didn’t hang around places that oozed mystery. She didn’t feel threatened, just intrigued. But getting to know the peculiar booksellers better was the last thing she wanted, right? She needed to get home and be done with this Christmas shopping business. “I’ll take the book.”

The newcomer stomped his feet on the mat by the door, then took off his hat.

Cora did a double take. “Mr. Derrick!”

He cocked his head and scrunched his face. “Do I know you?” The man was handsome, even wearing that comical lost expression. “Excuse me. Have we met?”

“We work in the same office.”

He studied her a moment, and a look of recognition lifted the frown. “Third desk on the right.” He hesitated, then snapped his fingers. “Cora Crowden.”

“Crowder.”

He jammed his hand in his pocket, moving his jacket aside. His tie hung loosely around his neck. She’d never seen him looking relaxed. The office clerks called him Serious Simon Derrick.

“I drew your name,” she said.

He looked puzzled.

“For the gift exchange. Tomorrow night. Office party.”

“Oh. Of course.” He nodded. “I drew Mrs. Hudson. She’s going to retire, and I heard her say she wanted to redecorate on a shoestring.”

“That’s Mrs. Wilson. Mrs. Hudson is taking leave to be with her daughter, who is giving birth to triplets.”

He frowned and began looking at the books.

“You won’t be there, will you?” Cora asked.

“At the party? No, I never come.”

“I know. I mean, I’ve worked at Sorenby’s for five years, and you’ve never been there.”

The puzzled expression returned to Serious Simon’s face. He glanced to the side. “I’m looking for the how-to section.”

Cora grinned. “On your left. Second aisle.”

He turned to stare at her, and she pointed to the shelves Mr. Wizbotterdad had not let her examine. Mr. Derrick took a step in that direction.

Cora looked back at the shop owners and caught them leaning back in identical postures, grins on their faces, and arms crossed over their chests.

Bill jerked away from the wall, grabbed her book, rummaged below the counter, and brought out a bag. He slid the book inside, then looked at her. “You didn’t want the book wrapped and delivered?”

“No, I’ll just pay for it now.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to look around some more?” asked Bill.

“Right,” said William. “No hurry. Look around. Browse. You might find something you like.”

Bill elbowed William.

Simon Derrick had disappeared between the stacks.

William nodded toward the how-to books. “Get a book. We have a copy of How to Choose Gifts for Ungrateful Relatives. Third from the bottom shelf, second case from the wall.”

The statement earned him a “shh” from his grandson.

Cora shifted her attention to the man from her office and walked a few paces to peek around the shelves. “Mr. Derrick, I’m getting ready to leave. If you’re not coming to the party, may I just leave the gift on your desk tomorrow?”

He glanced at her before concentrating again on the many books. “That’s fine. Nice to see you, Miss Crowden.”

“Crowder,” she corrected, but he didn’t answer.

She went to the counter and paid. Mr. Derrick grunted when she said good-bye at the door.

“Come back again,” said Bill.

“Yes,” said William. “We have all your heart’s desires.”

Bill elbowed him, and Cora escaped into the blustering weather.

She hiked back to the office building. Snow sprayed her with tiny crystals, and the sharp wind nipped her nose. Inside the parking garage, warm air helped her thaw a bit as she walked to the spot she leased by the month. It would be a long ride home on slippery roads. But once she arrived, there would be no one there to interrupt her plans. She got in the car, turned the key, pushed the gearshift into reverse, looked over her shoulder, and backed out of her space.

She would get the gift ready to mail off and address a few cards in the quiet of her living room. There would be no yelling. That’s what she liked about living states away from her family. No one would ambush her with complaints and arguments when she walked through the door.

Except Skippy. Skippy waited. One fat, getting fatter, cat to talk to. She did complain at times about her mistress being gone too long, about her dinner being late, about things Cora could not fathom. But Cora never felt condemned by Skippy, just prodded a little.

_

Once inside her second-floor apartment, she pulled off her gloves, blew her nose, and went looking for Skippy.

The cat was not behind the curtain, sitting on the window seat, staring at falling snow. Not in her closet, curled up in a boot she’d knocked over. Not in the linen closet, sleeping on clean towels. She wasn’t in any of her favorite spots. Cora looked around and saw the paper bag that, this morning, had been filled with wadded scraps of Christmas paper. Balls of pretty paper and bits of ribbon littered the floor. There. Cora bent over and spied her calico cat in the bag.

“Did you have fun, Skippy?”

The cat rolled on her back and batted the top of the paper bag. Skippy then jumped from her cave and padded after Cora, as her owner headed for the bedroom.

Thirty minutes later, Cora sat at the dining room table in her cozy pink robe that enveloped her from neck to ankles. She stirred a bowl of soup and eyed the fifteen packages she’d wrapped earlier in the week. Two more sat waiting for their ribbons.

These would cost a lot less to send if some of these people were on speaking terms. She could box them together and ship them off in large boxes.

She spooned chicken and rice into her mouth and swallowed.

The soup was a tad too hot. She kept stirring.

She could send one package with seven gifts inside to Grandma Peterson, who could dispense them to her side of the family. She could send three to Aunt Carol.

She took another sip. Cooler.

Aunt Carol could keep her gift and give two to her kids. She could send five to her mom…

Cora grimaced. She had three much older sisters and one younger. “If Mom were on speaking terms with my sisters, that would help.”

She eyed Skippy, who had lifted a rear leg to clean between her back toes. “You don’t care, do you? Well, I’m trying to. And I think I’m doing a pretty good job with this Christmas thing.”

She reached over and flipped the switch on her radio. A Christmas carol poured out and jarred her nerves. She really should think about Christmas and not who received the presents. Better to think “my uncle” than “Joe, that bar bum and pool shark.”

She finished her dinner, watching her cat wash her front paws.

“You and I need to play. You’re”—she paused as Skippy turned

a meaningful glare at her—“getting a bit rotund, dear kitty.”

Skippy sneezed and commenced licking her chest.

After dinner, Cora curled up on the couch with her Warner, Werner, and Wizbotterdad bag. Skippy came to investigate the rattling paper.

Uncle Eric. Uncle Eric used to recite “You Are Old, Father William.” He said it was about a knight. But Cora wasn’t so sure. She dredged up memories from college English. The poem was by Lewis Carroll, who was really named Dodson, Dogson, Dodgson, or something.

“He wrote Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” she said. “There’s a cat in the story, but not as fine a cat as you. He smiles too much.”

Skippy gave her a squint-eyed look.

Cora eased the leather-bound book out of the bag. “The William I met at the bookstore qualifies for at least ancient.”

She put the book in her lap and ran her fingers over the embossed title: How the Knights Found Their Ladies.

She might have been hasty. She didn’t know if Uncle Eric would like this. She hefted the book, guessing its weight to be around four pounds. She should have found a lighter gift. This would cost a fortune to mail.

Skippy sniffed at the binding, feline curiosity piqued. Cora stroked her fur and pushed her back. She opened the book to have a peek inside. A piece of thick paper fell out. Skippy pounced on it as it twirled to the floor.

“What is it, kitty? A bookmark?” She slipped it out from between Skippy’s paws, then turned the rectangle over in her hands. Not a bookmark. A ticket.

Admit one to the Wizards’ Christmas Ball

Costumes required

Dinner and Dancing

and your Destiny

Never heard of it. She tucked the ticket in between the pages and continued to flip through the book, stopping to read an occasional paragraph.

This book wasn’t for Uncle Eric at all. It was not a history, it was a story. Kind of romantic too. Definitely not Uncle Eric’s preferred reading.

Skippy curled against her thigh and purred.

“You know what, cat? I’m going to keep it.”

Skippy made her approval known by stretching her neck up and rubbing her chin on the edge of the leather cover. Cora put the book on the sofa and picked up Skippy for a cuddle. The cat squirmed out of her arms, batted at the ticket sticking out of the pages, and scampered off.

“I love you too,” called Cora.

She pulled the ticket out and read it again: Wizards’ Christmas Ball. She turned out the light and headed for bed. But as she got ready, her eye caught the computer on her desk. Maybe she could find a bit more information.

What I thought:

One of the things I love most about the Christmas season is collecting Christmas-themed romances to read while snuggled up in front of a crackling fire, with a hot cup of cocoa nearby. I was so excited when I saw Two Tickets to the Christmas Ball offered for review by FIRST Wild Card Tours, and requested my copy right away!

Well, let me tell you, it wasn't at all what I expected. It's unlike any Christmas romance I've ever read. I knew going in that it would be different -- Donita K. Paul is known for her Science Fiction/Fantasy novels -- I just didn't realize it would be so "magical".

The story revolves around Cora Crowder and her boss's boss, Simon Derrick. Cora lives alone with her calico kitty, Skippy. She has trouble "finding" her Christmas spirit, due to her very dysfunctional family, whom she left behind as quickly as she could. Cora has her own Christmas traditions that she looks forward to every year, and has never felt inclined to accept other's offers to spend the holidays with them.

Simon, on the other hand, thrives on love for his family. He is the breadwinner for his close-knit family, which includes his Mother, Aunt Mae, Granddad, and his precious sister, Sandy. Simon has always had a hard time finding a suitable date, so he's kinda given up on looking -- until he meets Cora. There's just something about her, and he can't seem to get her out of his mind.

My favorite character is Simon's sister, Sandy. She's twenty-four, and has Down's syndrome, which makes her very endearing. Sandy and Simon's relationship was a blessing to see! She does her part to get Simon and Cora together. :)

*A sincere "thank you" to Waterbrook/Multnomah for providing my copy for review.*

Waiting on Wednesday

2010-10-20T06:00:00.000-04:00

Rugged and Relentless

(Husbands for Hire, #1)

by Kelly Eileen Hake

Release date: 3/1/2011

Christian Fiction / Historical Romance

Barbour Publishing

ISBN: 9781602607606

Synopsis:

When three landowning women put an ad in the paper expressing their desire for healthy, hard-working husbands-for-hire to help them set up and run a sawmill, they never dreamed their tiny town would be overflowing with proposals from bachelors who responded promptly...and in person!

Out of this logjam of potential suitors, which one will Evelyn Thompson choose?

Jacob Grainger trails his brother's murderer to Hopesfall where, to keep his true intentions secret, Jacob pretends to court Miss Evelyn Thompson.

Will this lumberjack-turned-bounty-hunter find himself falling for the enterprising female?

My Review: Don't Look Back -- Lynette Eason

2010-10-18T22:05:00.003-04:00

Don't Look Back

(Women of Justice, #2)

by Lynette Eason

Christian Fiction / Romantic Suspense

Revell Publishing

Back Cover:

One man lives to see her dead--the other is fighting to keep her alive.

Twelve years ago, forensic anthropologist Jamie Cash survived a brutal kidnapping. After years of therapy, she has made a life for herself--though one that is haunted by memories of her terrifying past. She finally lets herself believe that she can have a close relationship with a man, when signs start appearing that point to one frightening fact--her attacker is back and ready to finish the job he started all those years ago.

Can she escape his grasp a second time? And will she ever be able to let down her guard enough to find true love?

Filled with heart-stopping suspense, gritty realism, and a touch of romance, Don't Look Back pulls you into its twists and turns to hold you there until the very last page.

What I thought:

Yet another terrifying, edge-of-your-seat suspense from Lynette Eason! She has quickly made a permanent spot for herself on my Top 10 "must read authors" list. I just can't seem to get enough! I don't know how I'm gonna survive until book #3, A Killer Among Us, releases in May 2011. *SIGH*

Don't Look Back is Jamie Cash's story. We first met Jamie in her sister Samantha's story, Too Close To Home. I have to tell you right now, Jamie's story is a LOT more graphic, and down-right sickening, imo. I'm not normally a violent person, but if I could have gotten close enough to "the Hero" -- I would have been tempted to kill him myself. This guy is the creepiest of creeps. Just like in the first book, I knew who "the Hero" was as soon as I met him. He just seemed to radiate evil, even in the most normal of circumstances.

The Cash family feels like a part of my family, I just love them all! Especially Jamie -- it just amazes me how strong her relationship is with God, after all she's been through. She turns to Him anytime she has a problem, whether big or small, and that's a great lesson for us all. Watching Jamie as she tries her hardest to find out who is responsible for kidnapping, and killing, all the teenage girls that keep turning up was really heart-breaking. You can see how tough it is for her to face her horrific past, as well as her own panic, because she knows in her heart that she will once again be in the clutches of "the Hero" before his reign of terror comes to an end.

Can I puh-leeze take a minute to talk about FBI Special Agent Dakota Richards? OH. MY. Stars! *dreamy sigh* He is such a sweetheart! Dakota has been in love with Jamie since practically the moment he met her, but he realizes that she still has issues dealing with her very scary, very traumatizing past. He's there for Jamie no matter what, and it is SO romantic to watch their relationship slowly build amidst the tragic events that are currently taking place in their lives.

It still amazes me to no end that I even LIKE this series, much less LOVE it! Normally, I can't handle reading stories such as these, but Lynette just has this incredible ability to hook me from the very first page. I read each of these books in a matter of hours!

Please, please, please get your hands on this series as quickly as you can -- I think you'll be really glad you did! Be sure to visit Lynette Eason at her website, or her blog, in the meantime.

*I can't thank Donna @ Revell enough for allowing me to review this book --thank you!*

My Favorite Cover

2010-10-15T06:00:00.002-04:00

Deadly Ties

(Crossroads Crisis Center series, #2)

by Vicki Hinze

Release date: 2/8/2011

Christian Fiction / Suspense
+ a little Romance

Multnomah Books

ISBN: 9781601422064

Synopsis from CBD:

Doctor Lisa Harper is determined to rescue her mother, Annie, from an abusive husband and end the separation they've endured since Lisa was sixteen.

If not for security expert Mark Taylor, Lisa's devoted friend who's loved her from afar for years, Lisa wouldn't know if her mother was dead or alive. But her stepfather refuses to let Lisa interfere, so he hires NINA a multinational organized crime group, to assault Annie, to lure Lisa out into the open where she's abducted.

If you haven't had the pleasure of reading the first book in Vicki's spectacular Crossroads Crisis Center series -- be sure to check out Forget Me Not (also available as an e-book!) before reading Deadly Ties.

My Review: Too Close to Home -- Lynette Eason

2010-10-14T23:57:00.004-04:00

Too Close to Home

(Women of Justice, #1)

by Lynette Eason

Christian Fiction / Romantic Suspense

Revell Publishing

ISBN: 9780800733698

Synopsis:

THE FBI HAS A SECRET WEAPON.
BUT NOW THE SECRETS OUT.

When missing teens begin turning up dead in a small Southern town, the FBI sends in Special Agent Samantha Cash to help crack the case. Her methods are invisible, and she never quits until the case is closed.

Homicide detective Connor Wolfe has his hands full. His relationship with his headstrong daughter is in a tailspin, and the string of unsolved murders has the town demanding answers. Connor is running out of ideas -- and time.

Samantha joins Connor in a race against the clock to save the next victim. And the killer starts to get personal.

Too Close to Home ratchets up the suspense with each page even as love blossoms in the face of danger. Read this one with the lights on!

What I thought:

WOW...just...WOW! I don't even know where to start!

This was my first taste of Lynette Eason's spell-binding suspense, but it most definitely will NOT be my last! Too Close to Home grabbed me from page one, and didn't let go 'til the very end. I devoured it in less than 6 hours -- with a few annoying interruptions. ;)

Even though there were times I wasn't sure I could go on, I just could NOT put this book down! Those of you who know me well will understand what I mean by not being able to go on. I'm not a fan of in-depth descriptions of murderous crimes -- or anything involving blood, gore, intense cruelty, etc. -- but, I seem to be drawn to them regardless. I'm SO glad I took the time to read Too Close to Home, and I am SO excited that I get to read book #2, Don't Look Back, over the weekend. HOORAY!!!

I always try my hardest to unravel the mystery as quickly as possible, but usually end up being completely bowled-over in the last few pages. However, I'm happy to say, I actually figured this one out in just a few chapters. I'm not sure what gave it away, but something just clicked and I knew who "The Agent" was, as well as, the reasons behind his horrendous actions. It cast a completely different aspect on the story -- because I could see it from both sides -- which was an intriguing change of pace.

The story revolves around teenage girls being propositioned by an online predator, who they believe to be a modeling agent. He chats with them until they get comfortable enough to send their picture to him, and eventually agree to meet him in person. In this day and age, with technology so easily accessible by kids and teens -- this is a scary reality check for any parent.

I wasn't sure how God would be incorporated into this gripping story, but Ms. Eason made everything flow so perfectly that I was amazed with how naturally He fit into every situation. It just goes to show that God really is there for us, no matter what struggles or hardships we may face on a day-to-day basis.

To find out more about Lynette Eason and/or her books, be sure to visit her website, or her blog.

*I won my copy @ Goodreads*

Waiting on Wednesday

2010-10-13T21:07:00.000-04:00

Fatal Judgment

(Guardians of Justice, #1)

by Irene Hannon

Release Date: 12/1/2010

Christian Fiction / Romantic Suspense

Revell Publishing

ISBN: 9780800734565

Synopsis:

U.S. Marshal Jake Taylor has seen plenty of action during his years in law enforcement. But he'd rather go back to Iraq than face his next assignment: protection detail for federal judge Liz Michaels. His feelings toward Liz haven't warmed in the five years since she lost her husband--and Jake's best friend--to possible suicide. How can Jake be expected to care for the cold-hearted workaholic who drove his friend to despair?

As the danger mounts and Jake gets to know Liz better, his feelings slowly start to change. When it becomes clear that an unknown enemy may want her dead, the stakes are raised. Because now both her life--and his heart--are in mortal danger.

Full of the suspense and romance Irene Hannon's fans have come to love, Fatal Judgment is a thrilling story that will keep readers turning the pages late into the night.

Be sure to also check out Irene's Heroes of Quantico series!!

The winner of Julie's giveaway is................

2010-10-08T09:15:00.001-04:00

CONGRATULATIONS!!! You're in for a fabulous treat! Enjoy! :)

There were 12 items in your list. Here they are in random order:
1. Molly
2. Diana
3. Carole
4. Michelle
5. Sara
6. Hannah
7. MaidenOfEmmanuel
8. Thou Art Jules
9. Lulu
10. Gayle Polluck
11. Martha Lawson
12. Cynthia

Waiting on Wednesday

2010-10-06T06:00:00.000-04:00

So far, I'm loving this series and am really looking forward to the next installment. It has a Christmas theme, which is even BETTER in my book! *pun intended*

Plus, the cover is just beautiful! We're finally having cooler temps here, so it's more than appropriate. :)

The First Love Cookie Club

(Twilight Texas, #3)

by Lori Wilde

Release date: Oct. 26, 2010

Publisher: AVON

ISBN: 9780061988424

Synopsis:

"On Christmas Eve, if you sleep with kismet cookies under your pillow and dream of your one true love, he will be your destiny."

The townsfolk of Twilight, Texas, believe the legend, but not Sarah Collier - not since she was a pudgy teenager, running down the church aisle on Christmas Day in a jingle bell sweater and reindeer antlers, trying to stop Travis Walker from marrying someone else. She may be grown-up, slimmed-down, bestselling children's book author "Sadie Cool" now, but Sarah will never forget that day. And she'll never fall foolishly in love again!

But when a letter from a sick fan brings Sarah back to Twilight, she's shocked to discover that Travis is the little girl's father - unattached and hotter than ever. His smile still makes her melt, but Sarah knows that ship has sailed. Travis, however, might have different ideas.

My newest award!!

2010-10-05T22:46:00.003-04:00

My first *and bestest ever!* blog buddy just made my day with a brand new award -- thank you SO much, Renee! You're too sweet! Y'all please be sure to pop over and check out Renee's blog -- Black 'n Gold Girl's Book Spot -- you'll be hooked for life. She posts lots of great reviews on lots of different books/genres. :)

Isn't this award the cutest? Y'all know I love the "patchwork" daisies!

I would like to pass this fabulous award along to a few more of my bestest blog buddies:

Angie @ Never a Dull Moment

Lee @ Butterfly Blessings

Hannah @ Project Journal

Blanche @ No Such Thing As Too Many Books

Ashley @ After All...Tomorrow is Another Day

I would have sent it to Christy as well, but Renee has already done so. :)

Thanks again, Renee!

Interview (+ GIVEAWAY) with author of A Hope Undaunted -- Julie Lessman!!!

2010-10-04T01:45:00.005-04:00

Are you a huge "Julie" fan? Do you enjoy passionate romances? Have you been desperately trying to get your hands on Julie's newest release, or maybe one of her Daughters of Boston titles?

Well, if you enthusiastically answered "YES!!" to any of these questions -- you're in the right place, at exactly the right time!

Julie has dropped by for an interview, and will be giving away a signed copy of one of her books to one lucky commenter at the end of the interview.

GOOD LUCK everyone!!

(I'm sorry some of the formatting is wacky. I can't seem to fix it.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Welcome, Julie -- I am honored *and excited!* to have you visit us today! I feel it's only fair to warn y'all up front, that Julie and I both love to talk, so this could get a little long! ;) Let's get right to it..........

me: Tell us a little bit about yourself.

Well, I’m a baby boomer married to a man who makes me feel like I’m living my own personal romance novel. I have a 27-year-old son married to a wonderful girl who is a doctor (and for whom I have prayed for since my son was a baby!) and a 22-year-old daughter in law school who hates to read. And, yes, it’s true – I paid her $20 just to read the first chapter of A Passion Most Pure. I’m happy to say it hooked her, and the rest of the book and the other three didn’t cost me a dime! :) My husband of 32 years is an artist/designer, and we are together 24/7 and actually love it—working back-to-back in a tiny, little office when I’m not outside on the deck with my laptop and hazelnut coffee.

me: That's funny! At least you didn't have to pay your daughter but the one time. If it were me, I would be giving you your money back -- I was hooked on the first page! :D

me: How do you choose your characters names/book titles?

As far as character names, mostly I go with what feels right. For instance, in the original manuscript I wrote at the age of 12, the heroine’s name was Faith O’Connor, just like in A Passion Most Pure (which is based on that early manuscript). Of course, I wasn’t a girl of “faith” back then, so I’m not sure why I named her that, but I did. Ironically, it suits her perfectly in A Passion Most Pure because she is the consummate woman of “faith.”

The names of her parents Marcy and Patrick were also from that early manuscript, but I ditched the original names for Faith’s rival sister, Charity, and the bad-boy hero, Collin, because their names were, well, pretty awful! Are you ready?? Charity was Del, short for “Delatha,” and Collin was “Bart.” Don’t even ask me what I was thinking at the age of 12 except that I do remember liking the TV show Maverick, which featured a handsome character named Bart Maverick. When I came to my senses, I chose Charity’s name because Faith had a twin named “Hope” who died at the age of 9, and I was going for “Faith, Hope and Charity.” And Collin’s name, pure and simple, came from a listing of Irish male names.

As far as book titles, my original name for the “The Daughters of Boston” series was “The Wind of God” series because I wanted each of my titles to be a “wind” Scripture. A Passion Most Pure was originally A Chasing After the Wind from Ecclesiastes 2:26, A Passion Redeemed was Chaff before the Wind from Psalm 83:13-16, and A Passion Denied was On the Wings of the Wind, Psalm 104:1-4.

After Revell said the original titles above had to go, I came up with the title of A Passion Most Pure for book 1 along with about 80 others (yes, I am a bit anal), but I admit that I did not like it at first. My daughter remarked, “Mom, will anybody really buy a romance novel with the word ‘pure’ in the title?” Unfortunately, I wondered the same thing, but as usual, Revell knew what they were doing, and I now feel the title fits perfectly—reflecting not only romantic passion that strives to remain pure, but passion for God, which really is “A Passion Most Pure.”

I was, however, sad to let go of my original title of A Chasing After the Wind from Ecclesiastes, which is pretty much the theme that is woven throughout that book, so Revell let me keep that Scripture on the opening page, as they did for the next two books as well.

You see, for me, “wind” is symbolic of the Holy Spirit, which fits because Faith is "chasing after the wind," that is, the Holy Spirit or God's leading in her life. Collin, too, is "chasing after the wind," but in his case, it is the wind of futility, chasing after his will (sin) rather than God's, which according to Solomon, is "meaningless" and nothing more than “a chasing after the wind.” I do, however, have a less spiritual reason (and maybe a bit silly one) for having originally chosen that title. Because of my obsession with Gone With the Wind—I always wanted to write a book with the word “wind” in the title. And I got my wish, sort of. Revell chose the name “Winds of Change” for my second 3-book series and I LOVE it!!

me: Seriously?!?!?! Del and Bart? *giggling* I just don't think Collin would have being the "bad-boy hero" that he is with a name like "Bart"! And, Del just doesn't fit Charity at all. I'm so glad you decided to change their names. ;)

me: Do you have a favorite sport?

Actually, no. My husband and I were into biking until about three years ago before I was published, always heading out to the Katy Trail or other bike trail in the St. Louis area. But we’ve both been so busy lately, me with my books and my husband with his design business, that the closest we get to sports today is him with his HD-TV and me with the athletic ventures of my heroes in my books.

me: When did you realize you wanted to become a writer?

Gosh, a LONG time ago, at the tender age of twelve after reading Gone With the Wind, a novel that swept me away into the world of romance for the very first time. It captured me like no other book had done, and I immediately set out to write (along with thousands of other love-struck young girls, I’m sure), what I hoped would be “the great American novel.” Obviously my dreams of grandeur didn’t go anywhere, but I did write 150 pages of a story that became the basis for my debut novel, A Passion Most Pure.

Fast forward almost forty years later—I was sitting in a beauty parlor reading a Newsweek magazine July 16, 2001 cover article about Christian entertainment. It said Christian books, movies and music were on the threshold of exploding. My heart jumped, and something in my spirit said, “It’s time to finish your book.” Now, I have to be honest—up until that moment, I had never seriously considered writing a book. But the pull was so strong, that I started writing A Passion Most Pure one month later. And now writing is my full-time career ever since I gave up my part-time job as a travel writer to pursue writing novels full time. But trust me … it didn’t come with a pay raise … :)

me: I think I speak for all your fans when I say I'm so glad you decided to follow that "pull"! Everyone who has the pleasure of reading your books can't help but have God touch them in some way, even if they don't realize it at the time.

me: How did you come to know the Lord?

Well, it’s not a pretty story, except for the ending, of course!! :) I was a 23-year-old hard-nosed agnostic from a devout but dysfunctional Catholic family of 13 kids. I was so angry at God that I actually used to say I wanted to burn Gideon Bibles in hotel rooms. As a wild child of the 60s and 70s, I tried everything to be happy—from astrology and tarot cards … to transcendental meditation and witchcraft—you name it. My vocabulary would have made a sailor blush. Suffice it to say that I was pretty angry at God. According to the world’s standards, I had everything going for me—a hunky boyfriend with a Corvette and a boat, a great job, my own apartment (at a time when other friends still lived at home), and I was acing an advanced writing course at Washington U., a prestigious college in St. Louis. But I wasn’t happy. I felt a lot like Peggy Lee singing, “Is that all there is?”

Then one day, this annoying gal at work approached me. She had a lesser job than me, was divorced with a kid and no boyfriend in sight. I hated her because she came in humming every day, happy as a lark while I was utterly miserable. And then it happened—one life-altering moment when she and I were alone—I looked up from my typewriter and said, “Just what in the heck (except my language was a bit saltier back then) makes you so happy all the time?” She said, “I’ve been praying you would ask.”

Oh, no, a Jesus freak, I thought to myself, but I found myself going to lunch with her, badgering her with questions and accusations. I don’t remember now if it was weeks or months, but either way, I met Jesus Christ through the remarkable patience of a God-sent angel by the name of Joy—pretty appropriate name, eh?

Since then, my life has been a journey of “joy,” because EVERYTHING with Jesus Christ at the center is pure joy—especially romance! So you might say that my books are my love letters to a God whose love took me from the dark into His glorious light, and I hope and pray it brings Him the glory He so richly deserves.

me: That's a wonderful testimony, Julie! Thank you for sharing.

me: What are you currently reading -- when you're not working?

Oh, it’s been a realllly good month for reading, let me tell you! Believe it or not, I manage to get about 4-5 books read in a month just by reading in the car while my husband is driving, on powder-room breaks, briefly before bedtime and while waiting in checkout lines and at doctor’s appointments.

First off, there was Mary Connealy’s Doctor in Petticoats (love Mary’s humor!), then MaryLu Tyndall’s Surrender the Heart (love MaryLu’s romantic edge and tense adventure!), Myra Johnson’s Where the Dogwood Blooms (probing spiritual message and romance that is wonderfully sigh-worthy), Courting Morrow Little by Laura Frantz (Laura always packs an emotional punch with a story and characters as alive and real as my own family), and finally, my current read (and I’m almost done!) is Melanie Dickerson’s The Healer’s Apprentice, which is simply a delightful medieval YA that is pure magic. Yep, all in all, a very good month!

me: YAY! You've finally had a chance to read -- I'm so happy for you! I've read a couple of those, so I know you've been enjoying yourself.

me: Name one food that you just cannot stand?!?!

That would be, of course, the same food nobody else can stand either—liver. But two things that a lot of people love but I can’t abide are … dumplings and Heath candy bars … two of my hubby’s favorites. Uh, except not together!

me: I'm with you on the liver and dumplings, but I gotta go with your hubby on the Heath bars -- yum!

me: What is your fave vacation spot, or dream vacation?

Mmmm … a beach bungalow on an unspoiled tropical island with my husband and lots of my favorite things—good friends, great books and old movies.

me: Sounds great!

me: Do you have a favorite sitcom/TV series that you just hate to miss?

Funny you should ask! My husband and I just finished ten seasons of JAG with David James Elliott (sigh), and at first, I wasn’t sure our marriage would survive after the last episode! ;)

You see, I watch almost NO television anymore due to lack of time, but my husband got in to the habit of watching reruns of the old TV show JAG on his HD-TV (he LOVES that thing!). So I thought the first season on DVD would be a great Christmas gift and I bought it, realizing he probably wouldn’t watch it but still figured it was a great “surprise” gift.

Well … he didn’t watch it … that is, until I agreed to watch it with him on my laptop, the two of us tucked all warm and snug in bed (it was a cold January as I recall!). Well, that did it. We enjoyed the cozy atmosphere of watching that truly terrific show SO much, that we bought the next season and then the next … until we were in hock on DVDs to the tune of $250 or so, but I have to admit, it was SO worth it!! We finished the last episode of the tenth season about a month ago, and we are still going through withdrawal and actually contemplating watching them over again … Yeah, yeah, I know—we need to get a life! :)

me: Hubby and I used to watch JAG, too. I was quite upset when it ended. David James Elliott would make a great Collin! *BIG sigh*

me: Please share 5 random things we don't know about you. :)

1.) I’m a Duck Tape Queen! I’ve used it for every and anything—from wadding around a rod to lift sheers up an inch off the floor (my husband HATED that one!) to taping it over itchy labels in a blouse or mending a tear in my purse. You see, I’m dirt-practical like my father used to be. Although he was an eye surgeon, that man would throw a wad of string over the telephone wire outside his bedroom window so he could tell which way the wind was blowing. :)

2.) I’m a freak about ambiance. I have to have candles lit when I watch TV or eat dinner or visit with friends, and the lighting has to be turned down real low. Which drives my husband crazy because he likes to actually see his food, so we do compromise.

3.) I’m not a girly-girl, meaning I’m not big on diamonds and flowers and shopping, contrary to my daughter! In fact, about 15 years ago, the diamond in my engagement ring fell out of its setting while I was cleaning, and I never did find it. Told my husband I didn’t want another one because a diamond on your hand just gets caught on fabric and things like that. But oh, boy, cheap costume jewelry, especially dangle earrings?? To die for!! :)

4.) I dressed up like a Southern bell with hoop skirts and upsweep hairdo for my very first job at age 16. I was a concession girl at a new theatre that featured Gone With the Wind as their first movie—how cool is that!!

5.) I have 40 nieces and nephews who are all married, so the first 100 people at all of our family weddings are … well, family!!

me: I love finding out interesting info about my favorite authors -- thanks for sharing!

me: Where can everyone find you online?

Through my Web site at www.julielessman.com, either by sending an e-mail via my site or by signing up for my newsletter at http://www.julielessman.com/sign-up-for-newsletter/. My newsletter is chock-full of fun info on my books and there’s always a contest featuring signed book giveaways and currently, a contest to have a character named after you in my next book! Also, I have a cool feature on my website called “Journal Jots” (http://www.julielessman.com/journal-jots/), which is a very laid-back ongoing journal to my reader friends that would give your readers an idea as to my relaxed style of writing. Finally, I can be found daily at The Seekers blog (http://seekerville.blogspot.com/), a group blog devoted to encouraging and helping aspiring writers on the road to publication.

Thanks, Lori, for allowing me to connect with your readers and God bless!

Hugs,

Julie

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Thank you, again, Julie for stopping by for an interview -- it's been great having you here. Until next time! *HUGS*

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Rules for the giveaway:

* Void where prohibited.
* U.S. residents only please.

* Leave a comment.

* You MUST be a follower, if you're not you can sign up now using Google Friend Connect, under My Followers. Please leave a valid email address in your comment so I can reach you, if you're the lucky winner! Example: sugarandgrits at hotmail dot com
* Giveaway runs from October 4, 2010 thru October 7, 2010 at 11:59 PM EST. Any comments made after that time will not count.

* The winner will be announced on October 8, 2010. I will contact the winner via email. The winner will have 48 hours to respond (once the email is sent), or another name will be drawn.

~ Neither the author, nor myself, is responsible for prizes lost in the mail. ~

My Review: A Memory Between Us (Wings of Glory, #2) -- Sarah Sundin

2010-10-04T00:26:00.000-04:00

First off, I'd like to take a moment to apologize to both Sarah, and Revell, for being a little late posting my review. Last week was very hectic. My mom, sisters, and aunt decided to have a huge multi-family yard sale yesterday, so I was really busy -- cleaning out closets, kitchen cabinets, my spare *junk* room, etc. I did make time to read/finish the book though. We worked hard all day yesterday and managed to make a little over $1200 between 5 families. We're worn out, but happy!

Moving on to my review.......

A Memory Between Us
(Wings of Glory, #2)
by Sarah Sundin

Historical Romance /
Christian Fiction

Revell Publishing

Back cover synopsis:

Can they overcome the past to find a brighter future together?

Major Jack Novak has never failed to meet a challenge--until he meets army nurse Lieutenant Ruth Doherty. When Jack lands in the army hospital after a plane crash, he makes winning Ruth's heart a top-priority mission. But he has his work cut out for him. Not only is Ruth focused on her work in order to support her orphaned siblings back home, she also is determined not to give her heart to any man.

As the danger and tension of World War II rise to a fever pitch, Jack and Ruth will need each other more than ever. Can Jack break down her defenses? Or are they destined to go their separate ways?

From the English countryside to the perilous skies over France, A Memory Between Us takes you on a journey through love, forgiveness, and sacrifice.

What I thought:

If you read my review of Sarah's first book, A Distant Melody, then you know she quickly became a fave author for me. I absolutely loved it, and fell in love with the Novak family. As soon as I finished A Distant Melody, I was already looking forward to reading Jack's story. Guess what? Now I can't wait to find out what happens to Ray in Blue Skies Tomorrow! Alas, I have to wait 'til August 2011 to get my next Novak "fix" -- how will I ever wait that long? *heavy sigh* As you've probably already gathered, I enjoyed A Memory Between Us immensely. Though not quite as good as A Distant Melody, in my humble opinion, it's still a most excellent read, and I highly recommend it.

Jack Novak grew up as his legendary father's namesake and has been lead to believe that he will follow in those hard-to-fill footsteps by becoming a pastor. Even though he has already been to seminary, he still isn't sure becoming a pastor is in God's plan for his life. Jack thrives on the action and adventure he lives in on a daily basis with the military, and is starting to consider the possibility of making the military his life-long career. However, he is hesitant to broach the subject with his father, as he knows he has his heart set on Jack becoming a pastor -- just like Jack's grandfather, father, and older brother, Ray.

Jack and Charlie de Groot, his best friend in the whole world, meet and quickly fall for, two lovely ladies. As it turns out, both Ruth Doherty and May Jensen are army nurses. Unfortunately, neither Ruth, nor May, is looking for a relationship. Ruth has no desire for intimacies of any kind with the opposite sex, due to painful issues from her past, and May is still working through the tragic loss of her fiancé.

Jack doesn't realize it, but he has a BIG problem with pride. It takes a point-blank observation from Charlie to bring this tendency to Jack's attention. He denies any such thing, of course, which causes Charlie to make a request that hurts Jack's feelings. Sadly, Jack's feelings aren't the only thing to be hurt the next time he lets his pride, as well as fears from his past, influence an extremely foolhardy decision he makes during a history-making mission.

This is an emotional, action-packed, historical romance that takes place during WWII. Even though I am not a fan of war-themed romances, Sarah's books are the exception as they are in no way whatsoever boring or dull. Thank you for making history enjoyable, Sarah!

To find out more about Sarah Sundin and/or her books, be sure to visit her website or her blog. Her books are available in most bookstores, or online retailers. Don't hesitate to get copies of both books -- you'll be SO glad you did!

“Available September 2010 at your favorite bookseller from Revell,
a division of Baker Publishing Group.”

** Thank you to Donna @ Revell Publishing for providing my copy for review.

Blog Tour for Love Me Tender -- Janice Hanna

2010-09-26T23:33:00.000-04:00

Note from Janice Hanna Thompson, author of LOVE ME TENDER:

Hi everyone! Thanks for stopping by to share in the excitement of LOVE ME TENDER, my latest inspirational romance. When I heard about the new “When I Fall in Love” line at Summerside, I flipped! Why? Because I love the ‘50s, and I love music! (The line is based on song titles from the 1930s to the 1970s.) I happen to be a playwright with a really fun musical comedy titled JOHNNY BE GOOD, a story that’s near and dear to my heart. I decided to put a twist on that stage play and turn it into a rockin’ romantic novel! With that in mind, I hope you enjoy this “Hollywood Heartthrob” interview with four of the main characters from the novel.

Hollywood Heartthrob, “Man About Town” Column

Welcome, readers! This is Sunset Sam, columnist for Hollywood Heartthrob magazine, here to interview several characters from LOVE ME TENDER, a new book by author Janice Hanna Thompson. I read the book in preparation for this interview and had a hip-hip hoppin’, be-be-boppin’ time reading about the characters down at Sweet Sal’s Soda Shoppe in Laguna Beach. I’ve been to Sweet Sal’s many times, of course. Everyone in Hollywood knows it’s all the rage. Where else can you get a big, thick cheeseburger, hot, salty fries and the thickest chocolate malts in the country? Now that I’ve enticed you with the food, let’s have a little chat with some of the key players in our story. We’ll start with Debbie Carmichael, daughter of the owners of Sweet Sal’s.

Debbie, could you tell us a little about what your day-to-day life is like?

Most of the girls my age are in college, but I decided to stay in Laguna Beach and help my parents out at our family run soda shop. I have the best life ever! I live across the street from the Pacific Ocean, and love spending time at the cliffs, watching the waves lap the shore. When I’m at the soda shop, the jukebox is always playing. I’m gaga over Elvis’s new song, “Love Me Tender.” It’s all the rage with teen girls right now. Of course, I’m also head over heels for Bobby Conrad, but don’t tell my friends, okay? They think I’m more mature than most of the other teen girls who hang out Sweet Sal’s. Of course, I’m a little distracted by that new guy, Johnny Hartman. He’s so sweet and handsome, and I hear he’s a great singer, too!

Johnny, I read in another article that you came all the way from Topeka Kansas to Hollywood to make it big. How does Hollywood compare to Topeka?

There’s really no way to compare Topeka to Los Angeles. People out here (in California) are more up on current styles, the hottest tunes and the hippest actors and actresses. Back home, folks are so grounded. That isn’t always the case here in L.A. I hope I don’t sound too stuck up when I say that back in Topeka, I was a big fish in a small pond. And because my dad’s a pastor, I had plenty of opportunities to sing in church. But out here in L.A. no one even knows who I am. My agent, Jim Jangles, is working hard to get me a gig on television. I’m auditioning for Arthur Godfrey’s Talent Scouts soon. Say a little prayer for me!

Bobby, I understand you were slotted to sing at the fundraiser at Sweet Sal’s Soda Shoppe, but had to cancel. Could you explain your sudden departure?

Yes, I was scheduled to sing at the fundraiser, but just got word that I’ll be filming my new movie that same weekend. I was really disappointed to have to tell the Carmichaels the news, but hopefully they understand. I think it’s going to be okay, because my agent, Jim Jangles, is sending his latest prodigy—a kid from Topeka named Johnny Hartman—in my place. I hear he’s quite a singer.

Sal, could you tell our readers about some of the Hollywood stars you’ve met over the years?

First of all, thanks for including me in this interview! It’s been decades since I was a teen, but I still secretly read Hollywood Heartthrob magazine. (Shh! Don’t tell my husband, Frankie, or my daughter, Debbie!) I’m blessed to be the co-owner of Sweet Sal’s Soda Shoppe in Laguna Beach, and I’ve met a lot of stars who’ve come through on their way to places like Dana Point and San Diego. Here’s a list of some of my favorites: Doris Day, Gregory Peck, Frank Sinatra, Audrey Hepburn, Lucille Ball, Desi Arnaz, Ozzie and Harriet. There are dozens more, of course. I want to personally invite all of your readers to stop by Sweet Sal’s Soda Shoppe so that they can see the photos on our walls! And while you’re here, why not enjoy a creamy chocolate malt?

Debbie, a little birdie told me that you and the other girls in Laguna Beach are gaga over Elvis, Pat Boone and Bobby Conrad. Now that you’ve gotten to know (and love) Johnny Hartman, what would you say sets him apart from the other great singers you’ve known?

Oh, no doubt about it. . .Johnny isn’t just a great singer, he’s got a heart of gold. I especially love his strong faith. Unlike so many of the other singers in town, he doesn’t put himself first. With Johnny, it’s God first. . .all the way! And when he sings...man! That voice! It’s a smooth as velvet. (And it doesn’t hurt that he’s so dreamy! Talk about handsome!)

Johnny, you’ve been asked to fill in for Bobby Conrad at the Laguna Beach fundraiser. Can you tell us how you’re feeling as you look forward to the big day?

I don’t mind admitting I’m a little nervous. Who wouldn’t be? Thousands of girls from Orange County and beyond are looking forward to seeing Bobby Conrad in person. Now I’ve been asked to fill in for him. I’ll be lucky if they don’t boo me off the stage or toss rotten tomatoes at me! Hopefully my new love song—the one I wrote for the gorgeous Debbie Carmichael—will win them over. I hope so, anyway!

Bobby, many Christians have a hard time hanging onto their faith once they achieve stardom. You seem so grounded. What’s your secret?

I always try to honor God in everything I do—whether it’s movies or songs for the radio. There’s a verse that I love, and it’s one I try to live by: “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.” The way I look at it, if I make a choice to put God first, He’s going to bless me above and beyond anything I could ever ask for, anyway. Even if He didn’t bless me, though, I would still serve Him. It’s really the only way to live a fulfilling life. (And trust me when I say that people out here in L.A. are looking for ways to live a fulfilling life!)

Sal, we were sorry to hear about your husband’s health problems. How is he doing now?

Praise the Lord, Frankie seems to be doing a little better. His heart attack several months ago really shook us up. And we got behind on the mortgage, which has made me a little nervous. Still, I choose to trust God. And now that everyone in town is banding together to put on the fundraiser to save the soda shop, I’m feeling more hopeful than ever!

Debbie, is there anything you’d like Hollywood Heartthrob readers to know as we end this interview?

Yes, I would like people to know that it is possible to live in Hollywood—to be a big star, even—and still be a person of faith. I’ve witnessed it in Bobby Conrad’s life, and in Johnny’s, too. I’d also like to share that putting your trust in God is really the only way to go. Some problems are just too big for us to handle on our own. When my dad got really sick, I made up my mind to try to “fix” the situation. What I’ve learned is this—only God can truly “fix” anything. And trust me when I say that His “fix” is far greater than anything we could ever dream up!

Thanks so much, folks! It’s been a great interview.

Well, there you have it, Hollywood Heartthrob fans. This is Sunset Sam, signing off for this week. See you next time!

***************************

Book can be purchased on my site at www.janicehannathompson.com or at www.amazon.com.

GIVEAWAY INFO: Janice Hanna Thompson is hosting a giveaway on her facebook page (http://www.facebook.com/jhannathompson). To enter, leave a comment on her page with the name of your favorite ‘50s star (movies or music) and explain why you liked him/her. The drawing to win the Be-Boppin’ ‘50s Basket (filled with great ‘50s memorabilia) will take place on the weekend of October 29th – 31st. Why? Because that’s the same weekend Janice is directing a local (Houston) production of JOHNNY BE GOOD the musical comedy that served as inspiration for LOVE ME TENDER.

To visit Janice’s webpage, go here: www.janicehannathompson.com.

***************************

I was hoping to have my review ready to add here, but life has gotten in the way of my reading time this past week. Be sure to check back soon!

A Hope Undaunted -- Julie Lessman (Winds of Change, #1)

2010-09-25T19:32:00.001-04:00

A Hope Undaunted
(Winds of Change, #1)
by Julie Lessman

Revell Publishing

Historical Romance

Back cover synopsis:

What happens when the boy she loved to hate becomes the man she hates to love?

The 1920s are drawing to a close, and feisty Katie O'Connor is the epitome of the new woman--smart and sassy with goals for her future that include the perfect husband and a challenging career in law. Her boyfriend Jack fits all of her criteria for a husband--good-looking, well-connected, wealthy, and eating out of her hand. But when she is forced to spend the summer of 1929 with Luke McGee, the bane of her childhood existence, Katie comes face-to-face with a choice. Will she follow her well-laid plans to marry Jack? Or will she fall for the man she swore to despise forever?

What I thought:

Julie's latest release was at the tip-top of my Top 5 Most Anticipated Books for 2010 list. I simply could not wait to get my hands on her newest 'passionate' creation so I could find out what the O'Connor family has been up to. They have become like an extension of my own family, whom I love very much.

It was love at first sight *word* in my case. I fell head-over-heels in love while reading A Passion Most Pure and couldn't read the rest of the series fast enough. Julie's Daughters of Boston series has carved out their very own spot on my keeper shelf, and it looks like her Winds of Change series will have a spot to call their own as well. While I can't say A Hope Undaunted is my favorite of Julie's books, A Passion Most Pure still holds that title, I did enjoy reading Katie's story.

As another blogger/reviewer pointed out in her review, Katie's story plays out a little too much like Faith's as far as the love-triangle aspect. Even though it adds a hold-your-breath facet to the story, another thing I found to be similar was the drama that revolved around the "pillar" that holds the O'Connor family together -- their father, Patrick. This being said, there were lots of new twists and turns to enjoy while Katie and Jack, along with Luke, find out what God's plans are for their lives.

The O'Connors acquire some new friends, one of which had me in stitches throughout the book -- Gabriella "Gabe" Smith. She was the 'life of the party' anytime she played a part in Katie's story! I also enjoyed meeting Allie Moser, who touched my heart with her tragic plight. I sincerely hope we will be seeing more of her in Sean and Emma's story, A Heart Revealed. Just from the brief glimpse, I think Allie would make a fabulous match for the youngest O'Connor son, Steven. *hint, hint* ;)

If you haven't read Julie's Daughters of Boston series -- what are you waiting for?!?! Get a move on, so you'll be all caught up and ready to start her new series, Winds of Change!

“Available September 2010 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.”

To find out more about Julie and/or her books, be sure to visit her in the various locations she can be found online: her website -- blog -- Facebook -- Twitter.

Don't miss your chance to win at Julie's Giveaway Extravaganza!
Click below to find out how to enter....

A Hope Undaunted Facebook Party

FIRST Wild Card Tour (+ My Review) ~ Medical Error by Richard L. Mabry, M.D.

2010-09-10T00:00:00.002-04:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Richard L. Mabry, MD

and the book:

Medical Error (Prescription for Trouble Series)

Abingdon Press (July 12, 2010)

***Special thanks to Maegan Roper, Marketing/PR Manager, Christian Fiction, Abingdon Press for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Dr. Richard Mabry built a worldwide reputation as a clinician, researcher, author, and teacher before retiring from medicine. He entered the field of non-medical writing after the death of his first wife, with the publication of his book, The Tender Scar: Life After The Death Of A Spouse.

Richard describes his work as "medical suspense with heart." Medical Error is his second novel. His first novel, Code Blue, was published by Abingdon Press in April of 2010, and will be followed next spring by the third book in the Prescription For Trouble series, Diagnosis Death.

He and his wife, Kay, live in North Texas.

Visit the author's website.

Visit the author's blog.

Product Details:

List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 288 pages

Publisher: Abingdon Press (July 12, 2010)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1426710003

ISBN-13: 978-1426710001

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Eric Hatley’s last day alive began routinely enough.

He paused beside his brown delivery truck, shifted the bulky package, and turned in a tight circle to search for the right apartment.

Shouts filled the air. Firecrackers exploded all around him. A dozen red-hot pokers bored holes through his gut.

The package flew from his arms. He crumpled into a privet hedge at the edge of the sidewalk, clutching his midsection and recoiling when his fingers encountered something wet and slimy.

A wave of nausea swept over him. Cold sweat engulfed him.

Eric managed one strangled cry before everything faded to black.

* * *

Dr. Anna McIntyre bumped the swinging door with her hip and backed into Parkland Hospital’s Operating Room Six, her dripping hands held in front of her, palms inward. “Luc, tell me what you’ve got.”

Chief surgical resident, Dr. Luc Nguyn, didn’t look up from the rectangle of abdomen outlined by green draping sheets and illuminated by strong surgical lights. “UPS driver, making a delivery in the Projects. Got caught in the crossfire of a gang rumble. Took four bullets in the belly. Pretty shocky by the time he got here.”

“Find the bleeding source?”

“Most of it was from the gastric artery. Just finished tying it off.”

Anna took a sterile towel from the scrub nurse and began the ritual of gowning and gloving made automatic by countless repetitions. “How about fluids and blood replacement?”

Luc held out his hand, and the nurse slapped a clamp into it. “Lactated Ringer’s, of course—still running wide open. We’ve already pushed one unit of unmatched O negative. He’s finishing his first unit of cross-matched blood. We’ve got another one ready and four more holding in the blood bank.”

“How’s he responding?”

“BP is still low but stable, pulse is slower. I think we’re catching up with the blood loss.”

Anna plunged her hands into thin surgical gloves. “Lab work?”

“Hematocrit was a little over ten on admission, but I don’t think he’d had time to fully hemodilute. My guess is he was nine or less.”

Anna turned slightly to allow the circulating nurse to tie her surgical gown. “Bowel perforations?”

“So far I see four holes in the small intestine, two in the colon.”

“Okay, he’ll need antibiotic coverage. Got that started?”

Luc shrugged. “Not yet. We don’t know about drug allergies. His wallet had ID, but we’re still working on contacting next of kin. Meanwhile, I have Medical Records checking his name in the hospital computer for previous visits.”

“And if he’s allergic—“

The nursing supervisor pushed through the swinging doors, already reading from the slip of paper in her hand. “They found one prior visit for an Eric Hatley, same address and date of birth as on this man’s driver’s license. Seen in the ER two weeks ago for a venereal disease. No history of drug allergy. They gave him IM Omnilex. No problems.”

The medical student who’d been assisting moved two steps to his left. Anna took his place across the operating table from Luc.

Luc glanced toward the anesthesiologist. “Two grams of Omnilex IV please.”

Anna followed Luc’s gaze to the head of the operating table. “I don’t believe I know you. I’m Dr. McIntyre.”

The doctor kept his eyes on the syringe he was filling. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Jeff Murray, first year anesthesia resident.”

A first year resident on his own? Where was the staff man? “Keep a close eye on the blood and fluids. Let us know if there’s a problem.” Anna picked up a surgical sponge and blotted a bit of blood from the edge of the operative area. “Okay, Luc. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

In the operating room, Anna was in her element. The green tile walls, the bright lights, the soft beep of the monitors and whoosh of the respirator, the squeak of rubber soles as the circulating nurse moved about the room—all these were as natural to her as water to a fish or air to a bird. Under Anna’s direction, the team worked smoothly together. Conversation was at a minimum, something she appreciated. Do the job in the OR, talk in the surgeons’ lounge.

“I think that’s got it,” Luc said

“Let’s check.” Anna’s fingertips explored the depths of the patient’s belly with the delicate touch of a concert violinist. Her eyes roamed the operative field, missing nothing. Luc had done an excellent job. He’d do well in practice when he finished his training in three months.

Anna stepped away from the table. “I think you’re through. Routine closure, leave a couple of drains in. Keep him on antibiotic coverage for the next few days.”

Luc didn’t need to hear that, but she figured the medical student did. She might as well earn her Assistant Professor’s salary with a little low-key teaching.

She stripped off her gloves and tossed them in the waste bucket at the end of the operating table. “If you need me—“

“Luc, we’ve got a problem. Blood pressure’s dropping, pulse is rapid.” A hint of panic rose in the anesthesiologist’s voice.

The scrub nurse held out fresh gloves, and Anna plunged her hands into them. “He must be bleeding again. Maybe one of the ligatures slipped off.”

“No way,” Luc said. "Everything was double-tied, with a stick-tie on the major vessels. You saw yourself, the wound was dry when we finished.”

“Well, we’ve got to go back in and look.” Anna turned to the anesthesiologist. “Run the IV wide open. Hang another unit of blood and send for at least two more. Keep him oxygenated. And get your staff man in here. Now!”

He snapped out a couple of requests to the circulating nurse before turning back to Anna. “He’s getting hard to ventilate. Do you think we might have overloaded him with fluid and blood? Could he be in pulmonary edema?”

“I want your staff doctor in here now! Let him evaluate all that. We’ve got our hands full.” Anna snatched a scalpel from the instrument tray and sliced through the half-dozen sutures Luc had just placed. “Deavor retractor.” She shoved the curved arm of the instrument into the edge of the open wound and tapped the medical student’s hand. “Hold this.”

Anna grabbed a handful of gauze sponges, expecting a gusher of blood from the abdomen. There was none. No bleeding at all within the wound. So why was the blood pressure dropping?

“Pressure’s down to almost nothing.” The anesthesia resident’s voice was strained. “And I’m really having trouble ventilating him.”

Dr. Buddy Jenkins, one of the senior anesthesiologists, pushed through the swinging doors. “What’s going on?”

Anna gave him the short version. “Blood pressure’s dropping, pulse is climbing. We’ve gone back into the belly, but there’s no bleeding. And there’s a problem ventilating him.”

Jenkins moved his resident aside, then slipped a stethoscope under the drapes and listened for a moment. “Wheezes. And no wonder. Look at his face.”

Anna peeked over the screen that separated the patient’s head and upper body from the operative field. Her heart seemed to skip a beat when she saw the swelling of the lips and the red blotches on the man’s face.

“It’s not blood loss,” Jenkins said. “He’s having an anaphylactic reaction. Most likely the blood. Did you give him an antibiotic? Any other meds?”

Anna’s mind was already churning, flipping through mental index cards. Anaphylaxis—a massive allergic reaction, when airways closed off and the heart struggled to pump blood. Death could come quickly. Treatment had to be immediate and aggressive.

“He had two grams of Omnilex,” Luc said. “But his old chart showed—“

Jenkins was in action before Luc stopped speaking. “I’ll give him a cc. of diluted epinephrine by IV push now, then more in a drip.” He turned to the anesthesia resident. “Get that ready— one milligram of epinephrine in a hundred milliliters of saline.”

“Luc, you two close the abdominal wound,” Anna said. “I’m going to break scrub and help Dr. Jenkins.”

Jenkins handed her a syringe. “Give him this Decadron, IV push. I need to adjust the ventilator.”

Anna injected the contents into the patient’s intravenous line. She said a quick prayer that the epinephrine and steroid would turn the tide, that they hadn’t been too late in starting treatment.

The team battled for almost half an hour, at first gaining ground, then losing it steadily. Finally, Jenkins caught Anna’s eye. They exchanged glances. There was no need for words.

She sighed and stepped away from the table. “I’m calling it.” Her voice cracked. “Time of death is eleven oh seven.”

Luc let the instrument he’d been holding drop back onto the tray. Jenkins picked up the anesthesia record and began to scribble. Murray, the anesthesia resident, turned back to his supply table and started straightening the mess. The medical student looked at Anna. She nodded toward the door, and he slipped out of the room. She didn’t blame him. This was probably the first patient he’d seen die.

Anna tossed her gloves and mask into the waste container. She shrugged, but the tension in her shoulders didn’t go away. “Any idea why this happened? The blood was supposed to be compatible. He’d tolerated Omnilex before. What else could have caused it?”

No one offered an answer. And she certainly had none. But she intended to find out.

The OR charge nurse directed Anna to the family room, where she found Hatley’s mother huddled in a corner, twisting a handkerchief and occasionally dabbing at her eyes. The room was small and quiet, the lighting was soft, the chairs as comfortable as possible. A box of tissues sat on the table, along with a Bible and several inspirational magazines. Soft music playing in the background almost covered the hospital sounds drifting in from the nearby surgical suite.

Anna whispered a silent prayer. She’d done this dozens of times, but it never got any easier. She knelt in front of the woman. “Mrs. Hatley, I have bad news for you.”

Anna stumbled through the next several minutes, trying to explain, doing her best to make sense of a situation that she herself couldn’t fully understand. When it came to the matter of permission for an autopsy, Anna wasn’t sure of the medico-legal situation here. Hatley had died after being shot, but his injuries weren’t the cause of death. Would she have to call the County Medical Examiner and get him to order one? The weeping mother solved the problem by agreeing to allow a post-mortem exam.

There was a light tap at the door, and the chaplain slipped into the room. “I’m sorry. I was delayed.” He took the chair next to Mrs. Hatley and began speaking to her in a low voice.

Anna was happy to slip out of the room with a last “I’m so sorry.” Outside, she paused and took several deep breaths.

It took another half-hour for Anna to write a chart note, dictate an operative report and final case summary, and change into clean scrubs. She was leaving the dressing room when her pager sounded. The display showed her office number followed by the suffix “911.” A “stat” page—respond immediately.

As she punched in the number, Anna wondered what else could possibly go wrong today. “Lisa, what’s up?”

“Dr. McIntyre, there are two policemen here. They want to talk with you. And they say it’s urgent.”

* * *

Nick Valentine looked up from the computer and grimaced when he heard the morgue attendant’s rubber clogs clomping down the hall. The summons he knew was coming wasn’t totally unexpected. After all, he was the pathologist on autopsy call this week, which was why he was sitting in this room adjacent to the morgue of Parkland Hospital instead of in his academic office at the medical school. But he’d hoped for some undisturbed time to get this project done.

The attendant stuck his head through the open door. “Dr. Valentine, you’ve got an autopsy coming up. Unexpected death in the OR. Dr. McIntyre’s case. She asked if you could do it as soon as possible. And please page her before you start. She’d like to come down for the post.” The man’s head disappeared like that of a frightened turtle. More clomps down the hall signaled his departure.

There was nothing new about an attending wanting a post-mortem done ASAP. You’d think they’d realize there was no hurry any more, but that didn’t seem to stop them from asking. At least she was willing to come down and watch instead of just reading his report. Nick turned to the shelf behind his desk and pulled out a dog-eared list headed “Frequently Needed Pager Numbers.” He ran his finger down the page. Here it was: Department of General Surgery. Anna E. McIntyre, Assistant Professor. He picked up the phone and punched in her number. After he heard the answering beeps, he entered his extension and hung up.

While he waited, Nick looked first at the pile of papers that covered half his desk, then at the words on his computer screen. He’d put this off far too long. Now he had to get it done. To his way of thinking, putting together this CV, the curriculum vitae that was so important in academics, was wasted effort. Nick had no interest in a promotion, didn’t think he’d get one even if his chairman requested it from the dean. But his chairman wanted the CV. And what the chairman wanted, the chairman got.

The phone rang. Probably Dr. McIntyre calling back.

“Dr. Valentine.”

“Nick, this is Dr. Wetherington. Do you have that CV finished yet?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Well, I need it soon. I want you to get that promotion to Associate Professor, and I have to be able to show the committee why I’ve nominated you. Don’t let me down.”

Nick hung up and riffled through the pile on his desk. Reprints of papers published, programs showing lectures delivered at medical meetings, textbooks with chapters he’d written, certificates from awards received. His professional résumé was pitifully small, but to Nick it represented the least important part of his job. What mattered most to him was what he was about to do: try to find out why the best efforts of a top-notch medical staff failed to save the life of some poor soul. If he did his job well, then maybe those doctors would be able to snatch some other patient from the jaws of the grim reaper.

His phone rang. “Dr. Valentine, are you about ready?” the morgue attendant said.

Nick looked at his watch. Almost half an hour, and Dr. McIntyre hadn’t responded to the page. He hated to start without her, but he might have to. “Give me another ten minutes.”

While he waited, Nick figured he might as well try to make Dr. Wetherington happy. Now when did he deliver that paper before the American Society of Clinical Pathology? And who cared, anyway?

* * *

Her administrative assistant met Anna at the doorway to the outer office. “Dr. McIntyre, I didn’t know what to do.”

“That’s all right, Lisa. I’ll talk with them.” Anna straightened her white coat and walked into her private office, where two people stood conversing in low tones. Lisa had said, “Two policemen,” but Anna was surprised to see that one of them was a woman.

The man stepped forward to meet Anna. “Doctor McIntyre?”

Anna nodded.

He pulled a leather folder from his pocket and held it open for her inspection. Anna could see the gold and blue badge pinned to the lower part of the wallet, but couldn’t read the words on it. The card in the top portion told her, though. It carried a picture beside the words, US Drug Enforcement Administration.

Lisa had been wrong. These people were from the DEA, not the police. Still, an unannounced visit from that agency made most doctors sweat. You never knew when some innocent slip might get you into trouble.

The man flipped the credential wallet closed. “This won’t take long.”

“Good. I’ve just finished an emergency case, and I still have a lot to do.” Anna moved behind her desk and sat.

“Your chairman said you’d give us as much time as we need.”

Anna glanced pointedly at her watch. “Well, have a seat and let’s get to it. What do you need from me?”

The man lowered himself into the chair, his expression slightly disapproving. His partner followed suit. “We have some things we need for you to clear up.”

“Could I see those credentials again?” Anna said. “Both of you.”

They obliged, laying the open wallets on the desk. Anna pulled a slip of notepaper toward her and began copying the information, occasionally glancing up from her writing to match the names and faces on the ID’s with the people sitting across from her. The spokesman was Special Agent John Hale, a chunky, middle-aged man wearing an off-the rack suit that did nothing to disguise his ample middle. Anna thought he looked more like a seedy private eye than an officer of the law.

The woman, the silent half of the pair so far, was Special Agent Carolyn Kramer, a woman who reminded Anna of a California surfer bunny, complete with perfect tan and faultlessly styled short blonde hair. The resemblance stopped there, though. Kramer’s eyes gleamed with a combination of intelligence and determination that told Anna she’d better not underestimate the woman. Kramer wore a stylish pants suit that had probably cost more than Anna made in a week, How could a DEA agent have money for an outfit like that?

Anna handed the badge wallets back to Hale and Kramer. “All right, how can I help you?”

Hale pulled a small notebook from his inside coat pocket and flipped through the pages. “Doctor, recently you’ve been writing a large number of Vicodin prescriptions, all of them for an excessive amount of the drug. Can you explain that?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Anna said. “I’m pretty sure I haven’t written any more Vicodin ‘scripts than usual, and I certainly haven’t changed my prescribing practices.”

Hale nodded, stone-faced. “What are those practices?”

“I prescribe Vicodin for post-operative pain in many of my patients, but always in carefully controlled amounts, usually thirty pills at a time. By the time they’ve exhausted that first prescription I can generally put them on a non-narcotic pain reliever. It’s rare that I refill a Vicodin ‘script.

Apparently it was Kramer’s turn in the tag-team match. She picked up a thick leather folder from the floor beside her chair, unzipped it, and extracted a sheaf of papers held together by a wide rubber band. “Would you care to comment on these?” Her soft alto was a marked contrast to Hale’s gruff baritone,

Anna’s eyes went to the clock on her desk. “Will this take much longer? I really have things I need to do.”

Kramer seemed not to hear. She held out the bundle of papers.

“Okay, let me have a look.” Anna recognized the top one in the stack as a prescription written on a form from the faculty clinic. She pulled it free and studied it. The patient’s name didn’t stir any memory, but that wasn’t unusual. She might see twenty or thirty people in a day. The prescription read:

VICODIN TABS
Disp. [#100]
Sig: 1 tab q 4 h PRN pain

At the bottom of the page, three refills were authorized. The DEA number had been written into the appropriate blank on the lower right-hand corner.

Anna squinted, closed her eyes, then looked again. There was no doubt about it. The DEA number was hers. And the name scrawled across the bottom read: Anna McIntyre, MD.

“Can you explain this?” Kramer asked.

A familiar vibration against her hip stopped Anna before she could reply. She pulled her pager free and looked at the display. The call was from the medical center, but she didn’t recognize the number. Not the operating room. Not the clinic. She relaxed a bit when she saw there was no “911” entry after the number. If this was about the autopsy, she’d have to miss it.

Hale picked up the questioning as though there had been no interruption. “What can you tell us about all these prescriptions for Vicodin?”

“I suppose the most important thing I can tell you is that I didn’t write them.” She riffled through the stack, paying attention only to the signature at the bottom of each sheet. “None of these are mine.”

“That’s your number and name. Right?” Kramer said.

“Right. But that’s not my signature. It’s not even close.”

“Can you explain how someone else could be writing prescriptions on your pads using your DEA number?” Hale asked.

“I have no idea.” Anna made no attempt to keep the bitterness out of her words. “Sorry, I’ve just lost a patient, and I’m not in the best of moods. Can’t we wind this up? I didn’t write those ‘scripts, and I don’t know who did.”

Obviously, Hale didn’t want to let the matter go. “You’re sure there’s nothing you want to tell us?”

“What would I have to tell you? I said I don’t know anything about this.”

Kramer spoke, apparently filling the role of good cop. “Take a guess. Help us out here.”

Anna felt her jaw muscles clench. These people were relentless. She had to give them something, or this would never end. “I really don’t know. I mean, we’ve got an established routine, and all the doctors here are pretty careful.”

Kramer pulled a silver ballpoint from the leather folder and began twirling it between her fingers. “Why don’t you walk us through that routine?”

Anna wanted to follow up on Hatley’s autopsy, talk with her department chair about today’s events, eventually sit down and try to relax. She was drained. The agents, on the other hand, seemed to have unlimited time and energy.

“Doctor?” Kramer’s voice held no hint of irritation. Patient, understanding, all the time in the world. Just two women chatting.

“Sorry.” Anna tried to organize her thoughts. “The prescription pads in the faculty clinic are kept in a drawer in each treatment room. That way they’re out of sight, although I guess if someone knew where they were he could latch onto one when no one was in the room.” She looked at the agents. Kramer simply nodded. Hale scowled. “Hey, we know it’s not perfect, but that’s the way we have to do it. Otherwise, we’d waste all our time hunting for a pad.”

“And do you ever forget and leave the pads sitting out when you’ve finished writing a prescription?” Kramer asked.

“Sure. Especially when we’re in a hurry.” Anna’s cheeks burned.

Hale turned a page in his notebook and frowned. “How about your DEA number?”

“You’ll notice those aren’t printed on the forms. Each of us has to fill in our number.”

“Maybe someone else had access to your number. Do nurses ever write the prescriptions for you?” This came from Kramer. Anna felt as though she was watching a tennis match, going back and forth between the two agents.

“When we have a nurse in the room with us, yes, she’ll write the prescription. I don’t know what the other doctors do, but I sign the prescriptions after she writes them. And I add the DEA number to the narcotic ‘scripts myself.”

The questioning went on for another half hour. Anna’s throat was dry, her eyes burned, she felt rivulets of sweat coursing between her shoulder blades. Finally, she’d had enough. “Look, am I being charged with something? Because if I am, I’m not saying another word without a lawyer.”

Hale replaced his notebook in his pocket. Kramer picked up her folder and purse. They let the silence hang for a moment more before exchanging glances, then standing.

“Right now, we’re simply investigating, Doctor,” Hale said. “You may be hearing from the Texas Department of Public Safety and the Dallas Police as well. Also, since your DEA number and identity have been compromised, I’d advise you not to prescribe any controlled substances for now. You’ll receive formal notification in writing tomorrow about applying for a new permit.”

The agents walked out, leaving Anna with her hands pressed to her throbbing temples.

* * *

Nick stepped back from the autopsy table, pressed the pedal under his right foot, and spoke into the microphone hanging near his head. “No other abnormalities noted. The balance of findings will be dictated after review of the histopathology specimens and the results of the toxicology tests. Usual signature. Thanks.” He turned away from the body and gestured to the morgue assistant to close the incisions. “I’ll be in the office if you need me. Thanks for your help.”

Nick removed his goggles and stripped off his mask, gown, and gloves. He was standing at the sink outside the autopsy room, drying his hands, when he heard footsteps hurrying down the corridor toward him. He turned to see a woman approaching. The attractive redhead wore surgical scrubs, covered by a white coat. As she neared him, he could make out the embroidered name above the breast pocket: Anna McIntyre, MD. She stopped in front of him, and the set of her jaw and the flash of her green eyes told Nick she was in no mood for light banter.

“Dr. McIntyre?”

She nodded.

“Nick Valentine. I paged you, but when you didn’t answer I had to go ahead and get started. Sorry.”

She waved away his apology. “No, it’s my fault. I couldn’t break free to answer your page. What can you tell me?”

“Why don’t I buy you a cup of coffee and I’ll tell you what I’ve found so far? If we go to the food court, we can get away from the smell down here. I hardly notice it anymore, but I’ve learned that my visitors aren’t too fond of the odor of chemicals.”

She hesitated for a few seconds. “Okay. Lead the way.”

It seemed to Nick there was a Starbucks on every corner of every major city in the US. Most important to him, however, was the one here in the basement of the Clinical Sciences Building at Southwestern Medical Center. As he waited to order, he sniffed the rich aromas that filled the air. The smell of coffee never failed to lift his spirits. Maybe it would do the same for the woman who stood stoop-shouldered beside him. For most doctors, caffeine was the engine that helped propel them through long days and longer nights. Maybe all she needed was a booster shot.

When they were seated at a corner table with their venti lattes Nick filled her in on his findings at the autopsy he’d just completed. “That’s about it,” he concluded. “I’ll sign the death certificate with the preliminary cause of death as anaphylaxis due to an unknown cause.”

“But you won’t have a final diagnosis until—“

“Right. I’ll review the tissue samples and the results of the toxicology screen, but I doubt that we’ll find anything there. I’m going to have some tests run on the blood samples I took, and maybe that will help us. I’ll need to research whether there’s a good blood test for a drug reaction or latex allergy. The long and short of it is that we may never know the real reason he developed anaphylaxis and died.”

“I hadn’t even thought of latex allergy,” she said. “But that’s pretty rare, isn’t it?”

“Less than one percent of the population. Seen in people chronically exposed to latex: surgeons and nurses, industrial workers, patients with lifelong indwelling catheters.” He felt himself slipping into his lecture mode and made an effort to pull back. “I mean, we could talk about all these uncommon things, but I’ll bet you learned the same thing in medical school that I did. When you hear hoof beats—“

“Think horses, not zebras.” She managed a tiny smile. “Yes, I know. So we should concentrate on the blood or the antibiotic. If it was the blood, there’s a problem in the blood bank because he got one unit of unmatched O negative, which should have been okay, and one unit that was supposedly compatible by cross-match.”

“The residuals in both bags of blood are being re-typed and cross-matched against your patient’s blood as we speak. We’ll know the answer by the time we finish our coffee.” He drank deeply from his cup. “Don’t you think an antibiotic reaction is the most likely cause?”

She took a sip of coffee. “Probably, although I hope not. Choosing an antibiotic wasn’t a routine matter, because we didn’t know if Hatley had any drug allergies. The resident—one of our sharpest ones, by the way—thought he’d see if we could get the information another way. He had medical records check for a previous visit for the patient. They found a recent emergency room visit by the patient where he tolerated Omnilex. Since that antibiotic’s the best choice to cover spillage from a perforated bowel, I agreed with Luc when he ordered it.”

“But—“

“I know. If you give that drug to a patient who’s allergic to it or to penicillin, their reaction is likely to be severe—like this one. But I thought, since we had that history of tolerance, it was okay.” She blinked hard. “I should have known better. Should have made him use a different drug.”

Nick sensed he was treading on thin ice here. Maybe he should change the subject. Besides, he wanted to know more about this woman. “You know, I’ve seen you in the halls, but we’ve never actually met. Did you train here?”

She hesitated before reeling off what had apparently become a stock answer. “Raised in Oklahoma. Graduated from med school in North Carolina. Duke, actually. Lucky enough to get a surgery residency here at Parkland, and when I finished I was offered a faculty position in the Surgery Department. I’ve been here a little less than a year now.”

Nick held up a hand, palm out. “I know better. You don’t get a surgery residency here because you’re ‘lucky.’ You get one because you’re good. Let me guess. AOA at Duke?” If Anna was Alpha Omega Alpha, she must have been in the top ten percent of her class.

“Right. But I don’t guess it’s enough to be bright if you foul up and cost a patient his life.” She drank from her cup, and Nick noticed that she kept swallowing several more times after that.

Nick was barely aware of the activity around him, the ebb and flow of people, the sounds of pagers punctuating dozens of conversations. All he saw was Anna. She was one of the prettiest women he’d encountered in quite a while. But he was certain there was more to this trim, green-eyed redhead than striking good looks. Right now she was focused on medicine—it was obvious she cared a great deal about her patients, and this loss hit her hard—but Nick had a sense that in a different setting she’d be fun to know. And he intended to see if he couldn’t arrange that. Anna shifted in her chair. He couldn’t let her leave yet.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “Aren’t you curious about me at all? There may be a prize if you can answer all the questions later.”

Did he see the ghost of a grin? “Sure. Why not? What’s your story—the Reader’s Digest version?”

Nick moved his cup aside and leaned forward with his elbows on the table. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could draw out their time together, but he was determined to give it his best shot. “My roots are Italian. Named for my grandfather. He was Nicolo Valentino when he got off the boat, changed his name when he got his citizenship. I’m Nicolo the Third.” He ticked off the points on his fingers. “Worked my way through pre-med at Texas Tech. Got into the med school there by the skin of my teeth. Managed to get a residency in pathology here at Southwestern. When I finished, they had an opening in the department.” He held out his hand, palm up, fingers spread, thumb tucked under. “So here I am—four years in the department, still an Assistant Professor. Up for promotion now, and I suspect that if I don’t make it they’ll cut me like a dead branch from a tree.”

Nick’s last sentence rang a faint alarm bell in his head. He had to finish that project or the chairman would be royally ticked off, but it only took Nick a second to put that chore out of his mind. He was sitting with the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. He wanted to get to know her better, and he intended to keep her here as long as possible, even if it meant incurring Dr.. Wetherington’s wrath.

What I thought:

As you know, if you read my review of Code Blue, I'm already a huge fan of Dr. Mabry's work. His stories have lots of elements that make a mystery/thriller a "keeper", IMO -- fast-paced action; intriguing twists that keep me guessing 'til almost the very end; just enough romance to make me happy; characters I can relate to, even though we may not have lots in common; plus, I would love to see Dr. Mabry's books become a movie, or even a TV series. In fact, while reading Medical Error, one of my new favorite TV shows came to mind -- Rizzoli and Isles -- they both have medical and criminal elements that keep me entranced to the very end. I've already made room for his newest release on my "keeper" shelf!

Dr. Anna McIntyre's life takes a devastating turn when she gets suspended from her job at Parkland Hospital, pending an investigation into why she has been prescribing outlandish doses of very potent painkillers to some of her patients. Anna knows she is innocent, and sets out to prove just that, instead of sitting home doing nothing while waiting to return to work.

Anna found out the same day, when trying to pay for her groceries, that her identity had been stolen! Now she's trying to figure out what it's gonna take to straighten out the annoying issues caused by this, on top of everything else.

And if that's not enough, she's also juggling the attention of two very different men. One is a co-worker, Dr. Nick Valentine, who is currently working as a Pathologist, performing autopsies on postmortem patients. The other is, Ross Donovan, Anna's lawyer, who is working on both of her cases -- identity theft and proving that she didn't write the bogus prescriptions. Mr. Donovan is a recovering alcoholic who is trying to get his business back up and running. Needless to say, Nick is not too happy about Anna spending time with Ross, even though it's in a purely professional capacity.........right? Well, you'll just have to get your own copy of Dr. Mabry's book to find out which one Anna chooses. :)

Just to whet your appetite -- book 3, Diagnosis Death, releases in April 2011 and it sounds like another excellent story. Only 7 months to go!

FIRST Wild Card Tour (+ My Review) ~ Tender Vow by Sharlene MacLaren

2010-09-06T11:56:00.000-04:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Sharlene MacLaren

and the book:

Tender Vow

Whitaker House (September 1, 2010)

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

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

After over thirty years of teaching, with her children grown, “Shar” prayed for direction, asking God for a new mission that would fill her heart with the same kind of passion she’d felt teaching and raising children. She began to write fiction – stories filled with fallen heroes and redeemed villains, daring women and starry-eyed children – plotlines that ultimately brought her characters face to face with God’s grace and restorative power. That choice has proven to be an excellent career move as the prolific author is releasing her 9th novel in September 2010. Sharlene grew up in western Michigan and graduated from Spring Arbor University with a degree in education. She traveled the world with a musical group before returning home to marry Cecil MacLaren, whom she’d known since boyhood. The couple lives in western Michigan.

Visit the author's website.

Product Details:

List Price: $9.99
Paperback: 432 pages
Publisher: Whitaker House (September 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1603740988
ISBN-13: 978-1603740982

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

PROLOGUE

Icy breezes whistled through the trees in Fairmount Cemetery, prompting the faithfuls gathered there to pull their collars tighter and button their coat fronts higher, as the tent that had been set up for the occasion did little to protect them from the elements. Just two days ago, northern Michigan had experienced a warm front, unusual for late November, but today’s temperatures made a mockery of it. Twenty-nine-year-old Jason Evans shivered, no longer feeling his fingers or toes, and wondered if the numbness came from the dreadful cold or from his deliberate displacement of emotion. He still couldn’t believe it—it was just two days after Thanksgiving, and his brother, John, two years older than he, was gone. Gone.

As Pastor Eddie Turnwall from Harvest Community Church pronounced the final words of interment, sobs and whimpers welled up from the mourners. His mom’s guttural cry among them gouged him straight to the core. Jason’s dad pulled his wife closer while Jason placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. His girlfriend, Candace Peterson, stuck close by, her hand looped through his other arm. His sister-in-law—John’s widow, Rachel—stood about six feet away, clinging tightly to her father and borrowing his strength as tears froze on her cheeks. Her coat bulged because of her pregnancy of eight months, and Jason worried that the added stress of her grief might send her into early labor. Meagan, John and Rachel’s three-year-old daughter, was the only one oblivious to the goings-on; she twirled like a ballerina until Rachel’s fifteen-year-old sister, Tanna, bent down to pick her up. If she knew the significance of this day, Jason thought, she’d be standing as still as a statue. What a blessing God kept her shielded—at least, for the time being.

“And now, dear Father, we commit John Thomas Evans into your hands,” Pastor Turnwall declared. “We know—”

“No!” Rachel’s pitiful wail brought the reverend to a temporary halt. In the worst way, Jason wanted to go to her, but he had his mom to think about. Mitch Roberts supported his daughter, whispered something in her ear, and nodded for the reverend to continue. Pastor Turnwall hastened to a finish, but the last of his words faded in the howling winds.

At the close of the brief ceremony, many of the mourners stepped forward to give the family some final encouragement. Jason went through the motions, nodding and uttering words of thanks. While he longed to linger at the bronze casket, the weather made it impossible, so, as the last of the small crowd left the tent, he followed, Candace’s quiet sniveling somehow disarming him. He didn’t have the strength to comfort her, especially since she’d barely known his brother; she barely knew his family, for that matter.

“Are you all right?” Candace asked in a quavery voice.

“I’m doing okay,” he muttered, his gaze pointed downward as they walked along the frozen path. How did one explain how he really felt on a day like this?

In front of them, mourners scattered in various directions, heading for cars covered in a thin layer of freshly fallen snow. Despite the cold, Rachel walked with slow, faltering steps, sagging against her father. Even from ten or so feet back, Jason could hear her sobbing moans. The sound made his chest contract.

Without forethought, he left Candace to her own defenses and raced ahead to catch up with them.

“Rachel.” Breathless, he reached her side. “I’m so sorry.”

“Jay.” She turned from her father’s supportive grip and fell into Jason’s arms, her sobs competing with the sighing winds.

They stopped in the path, and he held her sob-racked body, feeling his eyes well up with tears. Through his blurred vision, he noted both families halting their steps to look on. One of Rachel’s girlfriends took Meagan from Tanna and headed toward one of the cars. “Shh. You can do this, Rachel,” he whispered. “Think of Meagan—and your baby.”

“I—I c-can’t,” she stammered, her voice barely resembling that of the Rachel he’d known since high school, when he and John would argue over who was going to win her in the end. Of course, it’d been John, and rightfully so. And not for a second had Jason ever begrudged him. They fit like a glove, Rachel and John.

“Sure, you can,” he murmured in her ear. “You are Rachel Evans, strong, courageous, capable—and carrying my brother’s son, don’t forget.” He set her back from him and studied her perfect, oval face, framed by wisps of blond hair falling out from beneath her brown, velvet, Chicago cuff hat. Her blue eyes, red around the edges, peered up at him from puffy eyelids without really seeing. Chills skipped up his spine, and he didn’t think they came from the air’s cold bite. “Come on, let’s get you to the car,” he urged her, thankful when Candace stepped forward to take Rachel’s other arm, and they set off together. Rachel barely acknowledged Candace, and he wondered if she even remembered her, so few were the times he had brought her home.

“I can’t believe it, Jason, I just—I can’t believe it,” Rachel kept murmuring. “Just last week, we were making plans for our future, talking about John Jr. coming into the world, wondering how Meagan would feel about having a baby brother….”

“I know.”

“He just finished painting the nursery, you know.”

“I’m glad.”

She frowned. “Tell me again what happened.”

His throat knotted. “What? No, Rach, not here.”

She slowed her steps to snag him by the coat sleeve. “I need to hear it again,” she said, punctuating each word with determination.

“We’ll talk later, but first, we need to get you out of the cold.”

“Jason’s right, honey,” Mitch said, coming up behind them. “Let’s go back to the house.”

“But I don’t understand how it happened. I need to understand.”

“We’ve been over it,” Donna Roberts said as she joined them. Tanna came up beside her mother and held her hand as they walked. Like everyone else’s, Arlene Roberts’s face bore evidence of having shed a river of tears.

“I don’t care!” Rachel’s voice conveyed traces of hysteria. She stopped in her tracks, forcing everyone else to do the same. “John was a good skier,” she said. “He knew the slopes on Sanders Peak like the back of his hand. You said yourself you guys used to ski out there every spring.” Her seascape-colored eyes shot holes of anguish straight through Jason—critical, faultfinding eyes.

A rancid taste collected at the back of his throat. “We did, Rach, and he was the best of the best, but it takes a champion skier to navigate Devil’s Run. Come on, your car’s just ahead.”

Her feet remained anchored to the frozen ground. “Did you force him, Jason?”

“What?” The single word hissed through his teeth. “How could you even suggest such a thing?”

“Rachel, now is not the time for such….”

But Rachel covered her dad’s words with her own. “Did you provoke him into taking Devil’s Run? Witnesses heard you two arguing, Jay. Why would you be fighting on top of a mountain?”

“We weren’t fight—”

“You’ve always been the risk taker, the gutsy, smug one, ever looking for a challenge. You pushed him to do it, didn’t you?”

“What? No! What are you saying, Rachel? It was a stupid accident, that’s all.”

She stood her ground, her eyes wild now. “John isn’t like you, Jay, never was. Why drag him to the top of Devil’s Run if only a ‘champion skier’ can handle it? You of all people knew his capabilities—and his limitations.”

Jason wanted to shake her but refrained, merely giving her a pointed stare instead. “I did not drag him anywhere, Rachel, and we’ve both navigated Devil’s Run before. It’s just…the conditions were extra bad that day. I told him not to try it. You have to believe me.”

“Then why, Jason? Just tell me why he’d take the chance! Why?” she wailed, thumping him hard in the chest. Shock pulsed through his veins as he grabbed her fist in midair to prevent another assault. Everyone gasped, and Candace took a full step back, looking bewildered. Blast if he wasn’t dumbfounded himself. Where did she get off blaming him for the accident? Didn’t she realize his heart ached as much as hers over John’s death?

Mitch stepped forward and put his arm around his daughter. “Witnesses say John went down of his own accord, honey, and the police ruled his death accidental. No one forced him down that slope.”

Now she threw her father an accusatory glare. “How do you know that, Dad? Were you there?”

Mitch frowned. “Well—of course not.”

As if that should have settled it, Rachel pulled away and marched up the snowy walkway, albeit with stumbling steps. In robotic fashion, everyone else followed, shaking their heads in dismay. Taken aback by her insinuations, Jason fell in at the tail of the procession. “She blames me,” he muttered.

“She’s completely rude,” Candace said, taking his gloved hand in hers with a gentle squeeze.

“No, she’s just not thinking straight.”

“I don’t see how you can defend her. She just hauled off and hit you square in the chest.”

He cared very much for Candace, but she sometimes annoyed him with her snap assessments. “She just lost her husband, Candace.”

Mitch reached the car ahead of Rachel and opened the front door for her. “Where’s Meaggie?” she suddenly asked, almost as an afterthought, turning full around to scan the cemetery.

“Aunt Emily took her back to the house,” her mother said, climbing into the back with Tanna.

“Oh.”

Before climbing into the car, she glanced about, focusing on Jason. “He was a good skier, Jason.”

Jason nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, he was, Rachel. No question about that.”

“As good as you?” she questioned with a cynical hint.

“Yes. As good as me,” he lied.

Seeming pacified, she bent her awkward, pregnant body and eased into the seat. Mitch closed the door behind her and went around to his own side, nodding at Jason’s parents, Tom and Donna Evans, and the rest of his family before climbing into the driver’s side and starting the engine.

When the car disappeared from view, Jason murmured again, “She blames me.”

“It will pass,” said Tom, removing his keys from his coat pocket. “Give her time.”

As they approached his dad’s late-model Chevrolet, Jason asked, “What about you, Dad? Do you think I’m to blame?”

“Son, please, let’s not talk about this anymore.”

“Well, do you?”

“Get in the car,” his dad ordered in a tone Jason hadn’t heard since his youth. Even though he was a grown man, he felt compelled to obey. Candace climbed in ahead of him, and they all rode back to the house in icy silence.

CHAPTER ONE

Ten months later

“Mommy, will you play with me?” Meagan asked for at least the dozenth time.

Rachel scanned the kitchen, overwhelmed by the sight of empty juice bottles, a spilled box of baby cereal, a pan of lukewarm potato soup, and a pile of several weeks’ worth of mail. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told her it was already 8:05 p.m. Her pounding head and jangling nerves were additional reminders of her upside-down life, and Rachel shot Meagan a weary look. “Mommy can’t play just now, honey. It’s already past your bedtime, and I still have to get you and your brother in the bathtub.” She wiped her damp brow with the back of her hand. It had been an unusually warm day for September, and the heat and humidity still lingered in the house, despite the open windows. In fact, the entire summer had been the hottest and driest Rachel could remember.

“I don’t want a bath.”

“I know, but you played hard today. A bath will feel good.”

“Uh-uh. Baths stink,” Meagan whined.

Rachel had a good comeback on the tip of her tongue, but she kept it to herself.

“Can you read me a book?”

“Not this minute, no.” Suddenly, it occurred to her that things were too quiet in the living room, where she’d left John Jr. Setting down her dishcloth, she headed toward the other room and found an assortment of magazines scattered about, their pages ripped out and thrown helter-skelter. Johnny looked up and grinned, his mouth jammed full with something. She ran across the room, knelt down beside him, and pried open his jaws, using her index finger to fish out a glob of wet paper. “Oh, Johnny-Boy, you little stinker, you’d better not have swallowed any of this.”

“If he did, it’ll come out in his diaper,” Meagan stated.

In spite of herself, Rachel laughed, something she’d rarely done since becoming a single parent. In fact, more often than not, she laid her exhausted self in bed each night and cried into her pillow, counting all the ways she’d failed at her mothering job that day, wishing John were there to ease the load.

She whisked Johnny up and headed for the stairs, deciding to leave the kitchen mess alone for now. “Come on, Meaggie. It’s bath time.” She lifted the latch on the gate and allowed Meagan to pass ahead of her, patting her on the back to urge her up the stairs.

“Noooooo,” came another expected whine.

Mustering up a bright voice, she said, “Remember, Grandma and Grandpa Evans are picking you up in the morning to take you to the circus! You’ll see elephants, tigers, horses…and I bet you’ll even see some clowns. Won’t that be fun?”

“Is Johnny goin’, too?”

“Nope. Tomorrow is strictly a Meagan day.”

“Yay!” she squealed, her mood instantly improved.

Later, with the children tucked in bed, the kitchen cleaned, and the house put back into a semi-ordered fashion, Rachel collapsed into her overstuffed sofa and heaved a mountainous sigh. Her chest felt heavy, a sensation she’d come to expect these days.

Be still, and know that I am God.

“I know, Lord,” she whispered, breathing deeply. “But it’s hard. Sometimes, I don’t feel Your presence. I will never understand why You took John.”

Be still….

She leaned down and pulled John’s Bible from a stack of books beneath the coffee table, guiltily wiping off a fine layer of dust. “Lord, I’ve been so busy, I haven’t even opened Your Word for weeks. What kind of a Christian am I, anyway? Shoot, what kind of a parent am I? I can’t even find time in a day to read Meagan a book.”

Be still….

“I’m trying.”

She opened the leather book, noting many highlighted verses interspersed throughout the slightly worn pages. John had been an avid reader, putting her to shame. She knew God more with her head than her heart, but John had known Him with both. She missed his wisdom, his courage, and his strength. Most days, it felt like she was floundering without her other half. If only she’d had the chance to say good-bye—then, maybe, she’d have fewer gnawing regrets. She gave her head a couple of fast shakes to blot out the memory.

I will never leave you nor forsake you, came the inner voice. It sounded good, but could she truly believe it?

***

Saturday morning dawned bright and full on the horizon, the skies a brilliant blue. The heady scent of roses wafted through her bedroom window. If John were still alive, he’d have headed out at daybreak and picked her a bouquet for the breakfast table. She smiled at the thought. Gentle, cool breezes played with the cotton curtains, causing shadows to dance jubilantly across the ceiling. She hauled her downy comforter up to her chin and turned her head to glance at the vacant pillow on the other side of the king-sized bed. His side always remained unruffled, no matter how much she tossed and turned in the night.

Two doors down, Johnny stirred, his yelps for attention growing by decibels. On cue, her breasts sent out an urgent message that it was feeding time. “I’m coming, Johnny Cakes,” she called out, then sighed as she tossed back the blankets, donned her robe, and stepped into her slippers. She padded across the room, stopping briefly to touch the framed photo of her and John on their wedding day before continuing to the nursery, where her towheaded, nine-month-old baby was waiting in his Winnie-the-Pooh pajamas. Oh, how she thanked the Lord she still had her beloved children. Yes, they wore her to a frazzle, but they also kept her grounded.

When the doorbell rang at nine o’clock on the dot, Meagan sailed through the house in her pink, polka-dotted shorts and matching shirt, her blond hair flying, and made a running leap into her grandpa’s waiting arms, wrapping her legs around his middle. Tom Evans laughed heartily and planted a kiss on her cheek, and Donna smiled, tousling the child’s head.

“Grandpa Evans!” Meagan squealed, reaching up to cup his cheeks with her hands. “You and Grandma are taking me to the circus!”

“No! Are you sure?” He feigned surprise. “I thought we were just going for a walk in the park.”

“Uh-uh. Mommy says we’re goin’ to the circus. What’s a circus, anyway?”

Tom laughed and began explaining what she should expect at the circus, while Donna took Johnny from Rachel’s arms and moved to the bay window for a look at the gleaming sunshine.

While her father-in-law talked to Meagan, Rachel looked on, getting glimpses of John in his every gesture. Tom Evans’ manner of speech, his pleasant face, his lean, medium build, the way he angled his head as he spoke, and even his rather bookish, industrious nature put her in mind of John.

She then thought of Jason, sort of the black sheep of the family, only in the sense that he was just the opposite with his tall, strongly built frame, cocoa-brown hair and eyes, and reckless, devil-may-care personality. And he was terribly likable to everyone—except Rachel, even though she, John, and Jason had been almost inseparable during their high school and college years. They had stuck together despite Jason’s penchant for weekend parties and John’s utter dislike of them; Jason had spent so much time socializing, it was a wonder he’d even graduated. But she and Jason had grown apart, especially after the accident, and she hadn’t seen him since last Christmas—her own choice, of course.

Tom stepped forward to plant a light kiss on Rachel’s cheek. “How are you doing these days, Rachel?”

“I’m all right,” she said with a mechanical shrug and a wistful smile. She never felt like discussing her innermost feelings.

Tom narrowed his gaze as he set Meagan down. The child scooted over to her grandma, who smiled down at her, then looked up at Rachel and said, “Say, why don’t you stop by the house tomorrow afternoon? You haven’t been over for such a long time.”

Visiting her in-laws’ home was like walking into yesterday, and Rachel didn’t know if she was ready to pass over the threshold again. The last few times had been too painful; she’d found herself glancing around the house and expecting John to come barreling out of one of the rooms. Silence followed as she bit down hard on her lip.

“Jason is coming home,” Donna went on, bouncing Johnny as she moved away from the window. “He called yesterday, and I convinced him to come for dinner. He hasn’t been home for a couple of months. I know he’d love to meet little Johnny. He asks about him every time he calls, and you know how much he loves and misses Meagan.”

Just hearing Jason’s name incited painful memories packed with guilt. For a time, Rachel had hated Jason, even blamed him for John’s death. Now, she just resented him for reasons she couldn’t define. In high school, the phrase “Three’s a crowd” had never applied to them. Instead, “All for one, and one for all” had been their motto—until she and John had become a couple, that is. After that, the chemistry among the three of them had changed. Oh, she’d had warm feelings for both brothers, and she’d even dated Jason off and on, but John ultimately had won her heart in his final two years of college with his utter devotedness to her, his promise of a bright future, and his maturity and passionate faith.

“What do you say, Rachel?” Donna asked, turning her head to keep Johnny from pulling on one of her dangling, gold earrings.

“Yes, you should come,” echoed Tom.

“I—I’m not sure. I think my parents are stopping over.”

“Oh, no; they’re coming straight from church to our place for lunch. They didn’t mention that?” Donna asked, bobbing Johnny in her arms. The two families had always been close, having lived in neighboring towns and attended the same church for years. Then, when Rachel and John had gotten married, the bond had grown tighter still.

“Um, I guess they did, but I…I forgot.” Panic raced through Rachel from head to toe. She didn’t want to see Jason, couldn’t picture him in a room without John there, too.

“Rachel.” Donna touched Rachel’s arm, her eyes moist. “We miss John more than you can imagine, but—we still have Jay. His birthday is Tuesday, remember? Won’t you come and help us celebrate it like old times?”

Jason’s birthday. She’d forgotten all about it. Yes, she did recall celebrating it as a family, just as they’d celebrated hers, John’s, and every other family member’s.

“I’m sorry; I just don’t feel like celebrating anything or anyone.”

“But he’s your brother-in-law, sweetheart. Don’t you want to see him? Remember how the three of you used to be so inseparable?”

“Mom, please,” Rachel warned her. “It’s all different now.”

“Of course, I know that. But—”

“Leave it be, Donna,” Tom said sternly. Meagan, growing as restless as a filly, tugged at her grandfather’s pant leg. “I can understand why Rachel wouldn’t want to see Jason. Too many memories, right, Rachel?” He reached up and touched her shoulder. “It’s probably for the best—you two keeping your distance, at least for now.”

She swallowed a tight knot and released a heavy breath. “Thanks.”

Donna blinked. “Well, if that’s how you feel…. But, at some point, I hope you’ll reconsider.” She shifted her fidgety body and frowned at her husband, then smiled down at Meagan and tweaked her nose. “Well, we should be getting to that circus, don’t you think, pumpkin?”

“Yes!” Meagan jumped with unadulterated glee. Oh, to be that innocent, Rachel thought.

“We’ll try not to be too late getting her home. How ’bout trying to get some rest when you put Johnny down?” Tom asked as Donna handed Johnny off to Rachel. “You look plain tuckered out.”

It sounded wonderful, but also completely unrealistic, considering the overflowing baskets of dirty clothes in the laundry room, the teetering pile of dishes in the kitchen sink, and the brimming wastebasket in every bathroom. Whoever said “A woman’s work is never done” must have been a single mom, Rachel thought. Then, nodding with a forced smile, she saw the circus-goers to the door.

What I thought:

After reading Sharlene MacLaren's Daughters of Jacob Kane series (click link to read my reviews) , she has quickly made a place for herself on my "must read" author list. I was thrilled to get a copy of Tender Vow thru FIRST Wild Card Tours, and am really glad I did. I fell in love with all of the characters from page one (with the exception of Candace!), but I especially loved Rachel's 3-year-old daughter, Meagan. She's a real hoot! You never know what will come out of her mouth next, just like my 3-year-old nephew. :)

Tender Vow covers quite a range of emotions, from Rachel's heart-break over the tragic loss of her husband at such a young age, to Jason's deep-seated love for his sister-in-law. Anger and hurt feeling also play a large part in the Evans family's healing process -- it seems as though Jason's dad blames him for his brother's death, and they have a tough time repairing their relationship. God really does bring something good out of tragedy, as we see Jason find his way back to His heavenly Father as he continuously deals with his guilt over the death of his brother, John.

We get to see God's hand at work as Jason tries his best to take care of Rachel and her children, but at the same time, give her the space she needs to properly deal with her loss. In the end, God sees fit to bless them both with the desires of their hearts, but in His own time.

FIRST Wild Card Tour (+ My Review) ~ McKenzie by Penny Zeller

2010-09-01T03:30:00.002-04:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Penny Zeller

and the book:

McKenzie (Montana Skies series #1)

Whitaker House (September 1, 2010)

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

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Penny Zeller is the author of four books and numerous magazine articles in national and regional publications. She is an active volunteer in her community, serving as a women’s Bible study small-group leader and co-organizing a woman’s prayer group. Her passion is to use the gift of the written word that God has given her to glorify Him and to benefit His kingdom. When she’s not writing, Penny enjoys spending time with her family and camping, hiking, canoeing, and volleyball. She and her husband Lon reside in Wyoming with their two children.

Visit the author's website.

Product Details:

List Price: $6.99
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Whitaker House (September 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1603742166
ISBN-13: 978-1603742160

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

September 18, 1881

Boston, Massachusetts

Clutching the envelope that had just been delivered to her home, McKenzie Worthington walked into the parlor and closed the doors behind her. Sitting down, she ran her finger over the familiar, hasty penmanship on the outside of the envelope. There was no return address, but McKenzie already knew who had sent the letter. Bracing herself for the words on the pages within, she carefully opened the seal and unfolded the tattered, soiled piece of stationery.

My dearest sister McKenzie,

I write this letter with a heavy heart and a fearful spirit. I am convinced that Darius is not the man I thought him to be when I married him. He drinks almost continually, and when there is no more money to purchase his whiskey, he places the blame on me. He used all the money in my trousseau long ago, and we are constantly on the run to avoid the law. His threats are many if I dare turn him in to the local sheriff.

We are without food much of the time, but Darius always finds funds for his alcohol. All the money sent to me in the past, he has found a way to spend. I wish more than anything that I could find a way to leave this place and return home. However, Darius has threatened my life if I leave and has arranged for several of his friends at the saloon to keep an eye on me. One of his friends, Bulldog, lives nearby and watches my every move. He scares me to death, McKenzie.

Please, help me get away from Darius. He is such a mean man with a horrid temper. I fear for my life, at times. If Darius knew I was writing to you, I know he would kill me. I ask again that you please not tell Mother and Father the seriousness of my situation, since they will surely say that I deserve it for running away with Darius. But please come, and come quickly.

With much love,

Kaydie

When she had finished reading the letter, McKenzie clutched it to her chest. She could feel a tear threatening to fall, and she diverted her attention to the mantel above the fireplace. A large, three-foot-square oil painting hung proudly in the same place it had for the past ten years. McKenzie stared at the three people in the portrait and suddenly yearned for things to be as they had been then. Time had passed so quickly; the years of her childhood seemed barely a whisper in the conversation of life.

On the left-hand side of the painting, McKenzie’s younger sister, Kaydie, posed in her pink satin gown. Her long, blonde hair flowed over her shoulders, and her brown eyes seemed to hold a sparkle that McKenzie knew was long gone due to Kaydie’s present circumstances.

Sitting on a higher stool in the middle, McKenzie’s older sister, Peyton, emphasized her role as the eldest and most favored Worthington daughter. Beneath her dark, rolling locks, her large, green eyes held the look of arrogance and superiority that she continually flaunted over her less-preferred sisters.

On the right-hand side, her head tilted toward Kaydie’s, sat McKenzie, then fourteen years old. Her long, strawberry blonde hair was pinned up at the sides, and she wore her favorite turquoise gown. The smirk on McKenzie’s face had caused her mother great disturbance. “Proper ladies never smile in a portrait. Your father will be so disappointed,” her mother had scolded her. “We shall have to insist the painting be redone.”

The artist had been paid a reduced fee for failing to change McKenzie’s smile to a look of solemnity and had never been asked to paint any further portraits for the Worthington family. So, the portrait of Arthur and Florence Worthington’s daughters had never been repainted.

Once the servants had hung it above the mantel, there it had remained, serving as a memory in different ways to the different members of the Worthington household. To Peyton, it was a reminder that she was the eldest and the most obedient. To McKenzie and Kaydie, it was a reminder of enjoyable days past, when they would secretly embark on adventures that were considered unbecoming for young women from families of prestige and wealth. To McKenzie’s mother, the portrait was a disgrace because of McKenzie’s smirk, and to her father, it was the observance of a costly tradition that had been carried on from generation to generation.

McKenzie scanned the portrait again, her focus stopping on Kaydie’s face. Hang on, my dear Kaydie. I promise I will figure out a way to save you from Darius. Please don’t give up hope, she silently begged her sister. I don’t know how I will do it or when, only that I will. This much I promise you.

McKenzie sat for a moment longer in the quietness of the parlor. She recalled her parents’ disturbance when their youngest daughter had eloped with Darius Kraemer and moved West with him.

McKenzie’s mother had covered her mouth with her left hand and fanned herself with her right, clearly indicating her dismay at the situation. “I am so distraught by Kaydie’s marriage that I can barely manage day-to-day living,” she’d lamented.

“She never should have married a man so far beneath her. Now we’ll likely never hear from her again,” Peyton had said, sipping her tea. “Of course, Kaydie was always the one who thought she could do whatever she pleased and face the consequences later.” Peyton’s voice had done little to hide her smugness. “I would never do such a thing. Not only was it an unwise decision to marry someone without a pedigree and move far from civilization, but it has brought nothing but shame to the Worthington family. I can’t begin to count the number of times I’ve had to make up stories to explain her absence in order to preserve our family’s impeccable reputation.”

McKenzie had glared at her older sister. “Now, Peyton, not everyone can marry such a fine gentleman as Maxwell Adams,” she’d said with more than a hint of sarcasm, thinking of how grateful she was that she herself hadn’t married Maxwell, or anyone like him. While he was polite and treated Peyton well, he was also stuffy and prudish, and he seemed incapable of doing anything for himself. It had been Peyton who had secured his position at their father’s law office. Maxwell hadn’t even been able to apply for the job himself. In McKenzie’s opinion, Maxwell was a helpless, spineless, sorry excuse for a man.

“At least I am married,” Peyton had said, glaring at her sister, “unlike some people I know.” Peyton never missed an opportunity to rub in the fact that McKenzie, as an unmarried woman, was an oddity in a society that held marriage as the highest priority for women—marriage to a man from a wealthy family and with a thriving career, of course. The fact that Peyton had been successful on both accounts gave her an edge over a sister who in most other respects won the competition war.

“Now, girls, please. This bickering between the two of you must stop,” their mother had said, wringing her hands.

“You’re right, Mother. It is a shame that McKenzie doesn’t conduct herself in a manner more in line with our upbringing,” Peyton had said, smiling smugly at her mother.

McKenzie shook her head now and pictured her mother. With the exception of her long, gray-blonde hair and the age difference, she and Peyton could be twins. Her mother’s large, emerald eyes made her look as though she were in a constant state of surprise. Her pert, upturned nose further conveyed the air about her that she knew she was from one of the wealthier families in the Boston area, both by birth and by marriage.

“Marry a man of wealth, have children, attend social gatherings, and busy yourself with acceptable volunteer work” were the maxims McKenzie’s mother sought to instill in her daughters. Kaydie had managed to fulfill one of those wishes—she’d married. Yet, it had been in defiance of her parents’ desire, for Darius was hardly wealthy. Yes, they had met while doing volunteer work, but, based on what McKenzie knew now, it had probably been a ruse.

The chiming of the tall, mahogany clock in the corner brought McKenzie back to the present, and she again focused her attention on Kaydie’s predicament. She knew that mailing money to Kaydie to secure her fare to Boston would be impossible, as she had no access to any funds; the money in her dowry would be passed to her husband alone.

Poor Kaydie had thought her normally calm and complacent life would be so full of adventure when she’d agreed to marry the wayward Darius. He’d captured her heart and taken her from security and wealth to the dangerous, uncivilized Wild West. Granted, he was an attractive man with allure brimming in his erratic personality. He’d even said all the things Kaydie had longed to hear, making the men of Boston pale in comparison. Only after it was too late had Kaydie discovered that Darius made his living by swindling and robbing. When things didn’t go according to plan, he took out his fury, both verbal and physical, on Kaydie, essentially holding her hostage in her own marriage.

Now, Kaydie was suffering because she’d fallen in love with what had turned out to be a mere façade. Her dowry, which Darius had been after from the beginning, had been spent while Kaydie had been blinded by the love she’d thought she had found.

McKenzie had always been closest to Kaydie and knew that there must be a way to help her. Besides, she knew Kaydie would do the same if the situation were reversed. She reached up to twirl one of her tendrils between her finger and her thumb, as she habitually did when she was in deep thought. Not one to allow discouragement to defeat her, McKenzie knew she had to be the one to concoct a plan to rescue her sister. Kaydie’s life depended on it. No one else knew of the four letters Kaydie had mailed intermittently to McKenzie. McKenzie had been sworn to secrecy regarding Kaydie’s predicament, and, besides, her parents would no doubt have no shortage of words regarding their judgment of their youngest daughter’s poor choice. No one else knew the way her life had taken a turn for the worse. No one else knew of Kaydie’s desperation. McKenzie was the only one who knew and the only one who could help. But how would she afford the trip west? And, once she got there, where would she stay? Who would protect her while she searched potentially dangerous towns for her sister?

Just then, it came to her—an idea so crazy, she thought that it just might work.

What I thought:

Though the story seemed a little sporadic at times, I really enjoyed Penny's completely different twist on the concept of mail-order brides. McKenzie Worthington and Zachary Sawyer first meet via her letter answering his notice for a mail-order bride -- it's the beginning of a tentative relationship, sight unseen. They don't fall in love at the drop of a hat, but go about getting to know one another thru steady correspondence over the next couple of months. When McKenzie and Zach do finally meet, neither is quite sure what to make of the other -- they seemed a lot different on paper.

It was a real pleasure being able to share in McKenzie and Zach's relationship. There were plenty of hardships along the way; lots of misunderstandings; and Zach's adoptive son, Davey, who was just the cutest little boy ever.

I'm already looking forward to reading book 2 in Penny's Montana Skies series, and am really hoping we get to read Kaydie's story. I have a feeling it's gonna be quite an adventure!

*Thank you for providing an ARC for me to review!*

Licensed for Trouble (PJ Sugar, #3) by Susan May Warren -- and a Contest!

2010-08-25T03:30:00.001-04:00

Licensed for Trouble
(PJ Sugar, #3)
by Susan May Warren

PJ Sugar receives shocking news that she's inherited the Kellogg family mansion. Though she has no idea why, the timing is perfect - PJ has clearly worn out her welcome at her sister's house. Unfortunately, the mansion is in shambles, and PJ is short on cash. Rescue comes in the form of Max Smith, a mysterious handyman willing to trade his services for PJ's investigative skills. But PJ already has a full docket with cramming for her PI license and nurturing a growing romance with her boss, Jeremy Kane. Can she take on Max's case without dropping the ball?

What I thought:

Susan is on my list of "must read" authors, so I knew I would be giving this series a try. I have loved her books from the very beginning. Her Noble Legacy series is one of my all-time favorite series. However, Nothing But Trouble was really hard for me to read. It didn't hold my interest, or pull me in. Thankfully, I decided to give the second book, Double Trouble, a chance because it turned out to be my fave of the series. I also thoroughly enjoyed Licensed for Trouble, and am really, really hoping it's not the end of the series. I felt it ended rather abruptly and that there were a few loose ends. It would be great to help PJ solve a few more crimes, as well as, find out what happens in her quest to find her "partner" for life. It was somewhat insinuated at the end of this book, but nothing concrete. Do you have more mysteries for PJ to solve somewhere up your sleeve Susan?

About the Author:

Susan May Warren is the RITA award-winning author of twenty-four novels with Tyndale, Barbour and Steeple Hill. A four-time Christy award finalist, a two-time RITA Finalist, she’s also a multi-winner of the Inspirational Readers Choice award, and the ACFW Book of the Year.

Susan's larger than life characters and layered plots have won her acclaim with readers and reviewers alike. A seasoned women’s events and retreats speaker, she’s a popular writing teacher at conferences around the nation and the author of the beginning writer’s workbook: From the Inside-Out: discover, create and publish the novel in you!. She is also the founder of www.MyBookTherapy.com, a story-crafting service that helps authors discover their voice.

Susan makes her home in northern Minnesota, where she is busy cheering on her two sons in football, and her daughter in local theater productions (and desperately missing her college-age son!) A full listing of her titles, reviews and awards can be found at: www.susanmaywarren.com.

You can purchase your very own copy -- just click this link!!

Enter PJ Sugar's "Sweet" Giveaway

Licensed for Trouble, Susan's brand new PJ Sugar novel, is in stores now! To celebrate the release, we’re giving away a Kindle!! You can enter using Twitter, Facebook, or e-mail using the icons below.

One Grand Prize winner will receive a A SWEET Kindle prize package that includes:

A brand new Kindle (Free 3G, 6”, Latest Generation)

The entire PJ Sugar series by Susan May Warren

To enter, simply click on the icons below to fill out the entry form, then tell 5 or more friends about the contest.

Oh, and enter soon! Winner will be announced on September 2nd.

Be sure to check out the blog tour here or purchase a copy of Licensed for Trouble here!

I would like to thank Litfuse Publishers for the chance to review this book.

My Review: Courting Morrow Little by Laura Frantz

2010-07-24T00:41:00.001-04:00

Courting Morrow Little
by Laura Frantz

Christian Fiction /
Historical / Romance

Revell Publishing
Copyright 2010

Synopsis:

Caught between the wilderness and civilization, Morrow Little must find her way to true love

Morrow Little is haunted by the memory of the day her family was torn apart by raiding Shawnee warriors. Now that she is nearly a grown woman and her father is ailing, she must make difficult choices about the future. Several men--ranging from the undesired to the unthinkable--vie for her attentions, but she finds herself inexplicably drawn to a forbidden love that both terrifies and intrigues her. Can she betray the memory of her lost loved ones--and garner suspicion from her friends--by pursuing a life with him? Or should she seal her own misery by marrying a man she doesn't love?

This sweeping tale of romance and forgiveness will envelop you as it takes you from a Kentucky fort through the vast wilderness of the West.

What I thought:

This is a tough review for me to write. Though I was excited to read this book when I first saw it was gonna be released, I was also wary of requesting it to review. Reading about the battles/massacres the Indians had to fight/endure are very hard for me; I don't enjoy how it makes me feel. It really upsets me to read how horribly they were mistreated by my very own countrymen, and it breaks my heart to see what they were forced to go through, especially the women and children. That being said, I did enjoy this book, to a certain extent.

Getting to know Morrow, her Dad, Surrounded, and Red Shirt, and seeing the events take place through their eyes, made everything so real. The story moves right along and had me on the edge of my seat quite a bit. I was in tears on more than one occasion, and even found myself laughing at some of Morrow's antics a couple of times. For the most part, I felt heartsick over what everyone was forced to endure.

There were a few people I abhorred with all my heart and would have gladly killed with my own two hands had I been given the chance. They were just simply disgusting, and didn't deserve to live, even though I know it's wrong to kill another person. However, in circumstances such as these, I think it's completely justified. On the other hand, I fell in love with Morrow, her Dad, Libby, Abe, and Red Shirt, along with a few others. Their journey touched my heart on so many levels that I can't begin to explain it all.

One thing I LOVED about this book, was the fact that Morrow actually got to marry her true love well before the end of the story. It annoys me to no end that most couples get together on the very last page of the book, never to be heard from again. UGH! I was ecstatic to be able to read about their married life, and how they were planning for the future. It was a very nice change from the normal romance "pattern".

Even though I had a hard time with parts of this book, I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to give it a try. I don't think you'll be sorry you took the time to read it -- I know I'm not. If you'd like to find out more about Laura Frantz and/or her books, be sure to drop by her blog and see what she's been up to.

***A sincere "thank you" to Revell Publishing for allowing me to read/review this book.***

FIRST Wild Card Tours: Beautiful Bandit (Lone Star Legends, #1) by Loree Lough

2010-07-15T07:30:00.005-04:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Loree Lough

and the book:

Beautiful Bandit (Lone Star Legends V1)

Whitaker House (August 3, 2010)

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

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

At last count, Loree had 73 books (fiction and non-fiction for kids and adults; one novel optioned for a TV movie; and many more slated for release), 63 short stories, and more than 2,500 articles in print. Her stories have earned dozens of industry and "Readers' Choice" awards. A frequent guest speaker for writers’ organizations, book clubs, private and government institutions, corporations, college and high school writing programs and more, Loree has encouraged thousands with her comedic approach to ‘learned-the-hard-way’ lessons about the craft and the industry.

Visit the author's website.

Product Details:

List Price: $
Paperback: 240 pages
Publisher: Whitaker House (August 3, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1603742255
ISBN-13: 978-1603742252

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

May 1888

San Antonio, Texas

The hot, sticky air in the banker’s cluttered office made it hard to breathe. Josh ran a fingertip under his stiff collar as the image of cows, dropping by the thousand, reminded him of why he’d come to San Antonio. Selling a couple thousand uncontaminated acres from his family’s ranch, the Lazy N, was the only way to protect the land that remained until they were able to get the anthrax infection under control.

He did his best not to glare at the decorous Bostonian, Griffen, sitting beside him. It wasn’t the Swede’s fault, after all, that the disease had killed so many of the Nevilles’ cattle. In his shoes, Josh would have snapped up the land just as quickly. Trouble was, now this la-di-da Easterner would move to Eagle Pass, bringing his never-been-out-of-the-city wife and children with him. Worse yet, Josh had a sneaking suspicion that the former printing press operator would make a regular pest of himself by asking about the Texas climate, irrigation methods, when to plant, and only the good Lord knew what else. If that didn’t earn Josh a seat closer to the Throne, he didn’t know what would.

Few things agitated him more than sitting in one spot. Especially indoors. Confusion at how these fancy gents managed to look so calm and cool only added to his restlessness. He hung his Stetson on his left knee, mostly to occupy his hands in some way. Now, as the banker explained the terms of the agreement, Josh stared hard at the bloodred Persian rug under his boots and searched his mind for something else to focus on, anything other than the wretched document that would transfer ownership of Neville land to this foreigner. Moving his Stetson to his right knee, he remembered the day he’d bought the hat, and how he’d purchased another just like it one year later, when business at the Lazy N had put him back in Garland. One for riding the range, one for his wedding.

Strange, he thought, how Sadie could appear in his mind’s eye from out of nowhere, even after three long years without her. He forced her from his mind. This get-together was more than painful enough without his dwelling on the most agonizing period of his life. Josh exhaled a harsh sigh, hoping the banker and the Swede hadn’t heard the tremor in it. For his agitation, he blamed the oppressive heat. His empty stomach. The ten-day ride from Eagle Pass that had left him so bone-tired, he couldn’t sleep, even on the hotel’s pillow-soft mattress. A body would think that an establishment with Persian rugs and velvet curtains could afford to provide some cold water for its clients, he thought, loosening his string tie as Griffen asked yet another inane question. Father, give me the strength to keep from grabbing those papers and hotfooting it out of here without making the deal! he prayed silently.

Sadly, his thoughts were doing little to distract him from the grim truth.

He had cast the single dissenting vote at the family meeting, and the decision to sell the land had become even more odious to him when it had been decided that, as the only Neville with a law degree, Josh would be responsible for transacting the sale. He groaned inwardly at the sorry state of affairs, leaning forward to hide the tears that burned in his eyes. He loved every blessed acre—especially those acres—that made up the Lazy N. He’d built a small but solid home for Sadie and himself on that section of the ranch, and having to hand it over to someone else hurt almost as much as burying Sadie had.

Griffen, God bless him, had been the one to suggest that Josh hold on to the precious acre where she had been buried, along with their twins, who had died at birth. When Josh had asked permission to visit their graves from time to time, Griffen’s pale eyes had darkened a shade, and he had said, “I’d be a wreck in your position. We will build a fence around the land to make sure your little family is never disturbed.” But Josh had known, even as he’d nodded in agreement, that having to cross Griffen property to reach his family would only heap one misery atop another.

Josh grabbed his Stetson and, with his elbows propped on his knees, spun it round and round as he watched, through the window, three men and a woman dismount sweaty horses. They looked as tense and restless as he felt, and he wondered what unfortunate family business had brought them to the bank today.

“If you’ll just sign here, Mr. Neville,” Thomas Schaeffer said, redirecting Josh’s attention to his own, unfortunate family business.

He accepted the banker’s fountain pen. As its freshly inked nib hovered over the document, a bead of sweat trickled down his spine, and he felt a disturbing kinship with the fat hen his ma had roasted for dinner last Sunday.

Outside, the wind blew steadily, swirling street grit into tiny twisters that skittered up the parched road before bouncing under buggies and scurrying into alleyways. Even the burning breeze would feel better than this choking heat. “Mind if I open the window? I’m sweatin’ like a—”

“I’d much rather you didn’t,” he said, peering over the rims of his gold-trimmed spectacles. “The wind is likely to scatter our paperwork hither and yon.”

Hither and yon, indeed. Josh had read sayings like that in literature, but what kind of person actually used that sort of language in everyday speech? His musings over the annoying situation were interrupted by the sounds of shuffling footsteps and coarse whispers from the other side of the banker’s office door.

The commotion put a stern frown on Schaeffer’s heat-reddened face. “I declare,” he said through clenched teeth, “I can’t take my eyes off that fool assistant of mine for fifteen minutes without some sort of mayhem erupting.” Blotting his forehead with a starched white hanky, he continued grumbling, “Looks like I’ll have no choice but to replace him.” Shoving the eyeglasses higher, he lifted his chin and one bushy gray eyebrow—a not-so-subtle cue for Josh to sign the paper.

So, gritting his teeth, Josh inhaled a sharp breath, scratched his name on the thin, black line, and traded the pen for the banknote Schaeffer handed him.

On his feet now, Griffen grabbed Josh’s hand. “T’ank you,” he said, shaking it, “been a pleasure doing business wit’ you, Neville.”

Unable to make himself say, “Likewise,” Josh forced a stiff smile and pocketed the check. “You bet.” God willing, the worst was behind his family now.

The burnished, brass pendulum of the big clock behind the banker’s desk swayed left with an audible tick as the men prepared to go their separate ways.

It swung right as gunshots rang out in the lobby.

Schaeffer and Griffen ran for the door, but a flurry of activity outside drew Josh’s attention back to the window.

Tick….

It was the foursome he’d seen earlier, now scrambling up into their saddles. A lumpy burlap sack rested on the meaty rump of the biggest man’s mount, and sunlight glinted from his pistol.

Tick….

Now Josh knew why the bunch had looked so nervous before. They’d been just about to rob the bank! He yanked out his sidearm, pulled back the hammer with one hand, and threw open the window with the other, hoping to get off a shot or two before the robbers were swallowed up by the cyclone of grit kicked up by their horses’ hooves.

Tick….

Perched on the sill, Josh took aim at the shoulder of the fattest bandit, just as the woman’s pony veered right, putting her square in the center of his gun sight.

Tick….

She looked back as Josh released the pressure on the sweat-slicked trigger.

Tick….

Quick as you please, she faced front again, her cornflower blue skirt flapping like a tattered sail as she was swallowed up in a thick cloud of dust.

What I thought:

I haven't read any of Loree Lough's books in quite a few years, but I used to love reading her Heartsong Presents and Love Inspired stories. I gotta tell you -- I really enjoyed Beautiful Bandit! It's a very touching story of heartbreak, forgiveness, and learning to trust again.

The Neville's are a wonderful, easy-to-love family, and I fell for them from the very beginning. It's easy to see why Kate couldn't help falling in love with them, too. Even though she tries her very hardest not to, because she knows that she'll soon be leaving them, as she doesn't want her horrible past to catch up with her and risk them getting hurt in the crossfire.

Kate had a very hard life growing up, loosing her mother at a very young age, and having to endure her hateful step-father, until she finally set out on her own when she was only twelve years old. Unfortunately, her life didn't get any easier. She ended up falling for Frank Michaels, a lying, thieving outlaw, who turned out to be her worst nightmare come to life. When she finally escapes his dangerous clutches, while fearing for her life, she meets Josh Neville.

Josh is the nicest man Kate has ever met, and even though her first instinct is to trust him, she's never been able to trust any of the men in her life. She decides to give him a chance and agrees to let him to help her get to Mexico (without telling him why), where she intends to hide from the Texas Rangers, since she is WANTED as an accomplice in a bank robbery and the murder of bank employees. The truth is, she's not guilty of these crimes, but doesn't have anyone to vouch for her.

One of my favorite characters was Josh's "Mee-Maw", Esther! She reminds me a little of my own Grandma, with her tell-it-like-it-is attitude. Her relationship with Kate was a blessing to see. Esther made Kate feel loved, and did her best to show her that even though it didn't seem like God was looking out for her, He was still there for her, if Kate would just look deep in her heart.

I really hope this is the first of many books, as there are LOTS of Neville siblings and cousins who's lives would make great stories! I can't wait to read more about them. :)

Be sure to check out Loree's website to find out more about her and her books.

The Daughters of Jacob series by Sharlene MacLaren

2010-07-12T14:29:00.002-04:00

I can't begin to tell you have much I LOVED this series! I read all 3 books in less than a week, which is a true accomplishment for me, and, these are some pretty thick books! :) I've decided to review them all in one post, instead of each book individually -- I hope y'all don't mind.

Aren't these covers absolutely stunning? I think they fit each Kane sister perfectly!

Hannah Grace starts off the series, as she is the oldest of the 3 Kane sisters, and she's a real "outspoken" gal -- her story happens to be my favorite. ;)

When we first meet Hannah, she's being courted by the town doctor, Ralston Van Huff, or "Huffy" as Maggie Rose calls him. LOL Her family really can't understand why she spends time with him as they are completely mismatched. He is very self-centered and spends every spare moment talking about himself, and his plans for his practice.

Hannah enjoys spending time with her family, but especially running her father's general store, Kane's Whatnot. It's here that she first meets Gabriel Devlin, and Jesse, under some pretty exciting circumstances. However, her first impression of Gabriel has her judging him quite harshly. It was so much fun watching Hannah and Gabe's relationship unfold, as well as Gabe and Jesse's.

Gabe and Jesse's budding relationship adds quite a bit of excitement to the story, and will keep you on the edge of your seat at times. It all goes back to something Jesse saw in his past, but has buried so deeply that he doesn't remember the intimate details for quite some time. He's such a sweet boy that I couldn't help falling in love with him from the very beginning -- in fact, the whole Kane family will work their way into your heart if you'll let them!

************************************

Next is Maggie Rose's story, and it's quite riveting from the very first page! Maggie Rose is the "entertainer" of the family, and she had me in tears (of laughter) more than once, especially with her many attempts at singing. :)

She's always had a soft heart for children, and has been steadfastly praying for the Lord's guidance in her life. As it turns out, He sees fit to send her to New York City to help out at an orphanage, Sheltering Arms Refuge. Here she meets, and quickly falls in love, with a houseful of orphans who are waiting to find permanent families to love and care for them. Sheltering Arms also transports these homeless children across the country, via the railroad, searching for qualified families.

Not long after arriving at Sheltering Arms, Maggie Rose meets Luke Madison. Luke is a newspaper reporter who has been sent to write an article about the shelter, and their effort to match the orphans with loving families. He isn't too thrilled about his new assignment as he would rather be working on another article that is close to his heart -- maybe too close, which is why his boss saw fit to relieve him of that particular duty. He doesn't think Luke is capable of writing an unbiased story, as his heart is completely tied up in the tragic event.

Maggie Rose and Luke work together to help Maxine reunite with her dear friend, Clara, otherwise, she refuses to leave on the next orphan train. She's not leaving without her! Luke devises a plan to rescue Clara, and Maggie inadvertently ends up tagging along, much to Luke's dismay. Maxine and Clara's stories are heartbreaking, as are all the orphan's, but they make the overall story that much better, in my opinion.

You won't be able to help falling in love with these dear children! They had me laughing, and crying, right along with them. :)

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And last, but not least, we have the youngest Kane sister, Abbie Ann. I would have to call her the "spitfire" of the family, as she leads her local Woman's Christian Temperance Union (WTCU) chapter. They help promote women's suffrage and Prohibition. It seems they have been ruffling a few feathers, as Abbie Ann has received several threats, which are being investigated by Sheriff Gabriel Devlin, Hannah Grace's husband.

When Abbie Ann meets Noah Carson, a renowned shipbuilder, and his adorable six-year-old son, Toby, they find themselves caught up in an instant attraction. Abbie Ann tries her best to ignore her feelings, especially after she finds out Noah is a divorcee, nor does he seem to be a devoted Christian. He is harboring hatred and unforgiveness towards his own father; not to mention his rage at the people involved in the events that caused his sudden and shocking divorce. Along with his divorce, he also lost his lifelong best friend, and his highly successful shipworks business. Needless to say, he arrives in town with a very sour outlook on life.

One of Abbie Ann's dreams for the WTCU is to eventually be able to open a shelter for battered and abused women. She knows for a fact that there are a few living in her relatively small town, and would love nothing more than to be able to help them. As she works hard to put her dream in motion, she is forced to deal with even more threats, which in turn cause her father and Sheriff Gabe to recommend she drop the WTCU meetings until things calm down. They want nothing more than to keep her safe.

Though I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know the Kane sisters, I have to tell you that Abbie Ann's story was my least favorite. It seemed to move along much slower than the first two and I had to make myself buckle down and keep reading a few times. I'm so glad I did though, because everything came together just fine in the end. I'm really sorry to say good-bye to all the wonderful folks I met along the way -- I'll really miss them!

If you've not had the pleasure of reading Sharlene MacLaren's The Daughter's of Jacob Kane series, I highly recommend that you give them a try. Be sure to check out Sharlene's website and blog to find out more about her and her books.

***A special "thank-you" to FIRST Wild Card Tours for providing my copy of Abbie Ann for review. ***

My Review: Love on a Dime by Cara Lynn James

2010-07-11T19:53:00.001-04:00

Love on a Dime

(Ladies of Summer Hill, #1)
by Cara Lynn James

Christian Fiction /
Historical / Romance

Thomas Nelson
Copyright 2010

Synopsis:

In age of elegance and excess, Lilly Westbrook longs for a love both true and eternal.

Newport, Rhode Island, 1899, is a place of shimmering waves, sleek yachts, and ladies of leisure. Of opulent mansions that serve as summer cottages for the rich and famous. Home of railroad magnates and banking tycoons--dashing young men and the women who aspire to marry them.

But it's not the place for lady novelists. Especially not those who pen disreputable dime novels. This poses a problem for Lilly Westbrook, because that's exactly what she does.
No one in Lilly's social set knows she pens fiction under the nom de plume Fannie Cole. Not her family or the wealthy young man about to propose to her. And especially not Jackson Grail, the long-lost beau who just bought her publishing company...and who stirs her heart more than she cares to admit.

But Lilly must put aside her feelings and follow the path that will maintain her family's social stature and provide the financial security that everyone is depending on.

Now Lilly faces a double dilemma. Can she continue to protect her secret identity? And will she have the courage to choose the man who will risk it all just to win her heart?

What I thought:

I was so excited to read this book when I first saw the premise -- finally, something a little different! It was interesting to read about a "famous" author, who kept her identity a secret, but there were some slow parts as well. Overall, I would still recommend you give it a try. :)

Lilly Westbrook has always loved to write, whether it was poems, short stories, or her surprisingly popular dime novels. Her competition has upped the ante by holding public signing for her books, and Lilly's publisher would like her to do the same. However, Lilly is terrified by the likelihood of her family being shunned or even ostracized were anyone to find out that she is the famous Fanny Cole. The only person who knows her deep, dark secret is her very best friend in the world, Miranda Reid. Lilly wishes she could share her secret with her family, but she can't seem to get past her fear.

Jackson Grail was Lilly's first, and only, true love back in her teens. He and her brother George were the best of friends, and she slowly fell in love with him over the years. Though they discussed the idea of marriage, Jack didn't feel that he was good enough in the eyes of Lilly's parents, and his decision to leave for college just about broke Lilly's heart in two.

Years later, Jack and Lilly are together again, but only in the sense that he's come to visit George and is staying at Summerhill as his guest. Jack has finally come to realize that he still has feelings for Lilly, but she is now being courted by Harlan Santerre, a powerful railroad man, who I thought to be a pompous jerk throughout most of the book. I gotta tell you though -- his mother is even worse. Whew, that woman is horrible!

What I got from this book is that even though things in our life may sometimes seem to have gotten completely out of control -- and others may be hurt by the end result -- the only thing we can do is turn it all over to God, and trust Him to work everything out as He sees fit. This is something I struggle with on a daily basis, but I'm trying to trust God as Lilly did.

If you haven't had the opportunity to read Cara Lynn James' debut novel, be sure to pick up a copy the next time your out shopping for something new and interesting to read. You can also visit her at her website to find out more about her and her book.

***I would like to say a special "thank you" to FIRST Wild Card Tours for providing me with a copy to review.***

FIRST Wild Card Tour: Hope's Promise (Sierra Chronicles, V2) by Tammy Barley

2010-07-09T07:30:00.001-04:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Tammy Barley

and the book:

Hopes Promise
(Sierra Chronicles V2)

Whitaker House (August 3, 2010)

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

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

With Cherokee heritage and such ancestors as James Butler “Wild Bill” Hickok, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Henry David Thoreau, Tammy Barley inherited her literary vocation and preferred setting: the Wild West. A longtime freelance writer and editor, Tammy is also an accomplished equestrian who homeschools her three children. Book One of her Sierra Chronicles, Love’s Rescue, sold out its first printing within a week of its release in 2009.

Visit the author's website.

Product Details:

List Price: $9.99
Paperback: 368 pages
Publisher: Whitaker House (August 3, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1603741097
ISBN-13: 978-1603741095

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Western Nevada Territory

May 1864

“Would you care to rest awhile, Jess?”

Withholding a smile, Jess leaned forward in the saddle as her horse clamored beside Jake’s to the top of the rocky bank. When the ground leveled out, she glanced at the progress of the small herd of Thoroughbred stallions close behind, then tossed a lightly accusing gaze to her husband.

“Rest awhile? Are you coddling me, Bennett?”

In the shadow of his hat brim, Jake’s whisky-brown eyes sparkled at her as he grinned the crooked grin she loved. “No, ma’am, I wouldn’t dare.” He nodded sagely to Taggart and Diaz, the hired men with bandanas pulled up against the rising dust, who wrangled on the opposite side of the herd. “But the boys haven’t stood on their own feet twice since sunup, and they’re looking peaked.”

“Peaked?” Jess looked to the burly, orange-haired Irishman and the sinewy, born-in-the-saddle Spaniard and burst out laughing. “Those two wouldn’t walk to their dinner plates if they could ride!”

The sleek, long-limbed Thoroughbreds continued, heads bobbing, toward the mountains, whistled on by the two cattlemen. From her position riding flank, Jess took in the beauty of white nose blazes and white socks flashing amid the bays, chestnuts, and blacks, framed by the red earth and green pines of the Sierra Nevadas.

They were going home.

Jess quieted, but her smile remained. “I couldn’t stop now, Jake. We only have ten miles before we reach the ranch.”

Ten, out of seventeen hundred, she mused, and eight months since she had seen this part of the country. When they left the ranch, they hadn’t been married and she hadn’t been certain she’d ever come back. Even so, she hadn’t forgotten the beauty of the mountains, her love of the ranch in Honey Lake Valley, and her dream to raise horses with the good man beside her.

Jess’s horse stumbled, then recovered. Amid the scattered rocks and fragrant clusters of gray-green sagebrush around them, desert flowers added brilliant splashes of purple, red, and orange. When they left the ranch, the land had been brown, dry from a year of heat and draught. Clearly winter snows and spring rains had come, for now life bloomed everywhere.

Well, almost everywhere. With a twinge of sadness, Jess pressed a gloved hand to the flatness of her stomach.

She and Jake had married in the fall, on one of the most beautiful autumn days God had ever created. As a wedding gift, Jake had given her the herd of Thoroughbreds, which grazed in the Bennetts’ paddock while the pastor stood with them beneath an arch of trees and joined them as husband and wife.

All she had wanted was to give Jake a child in return. And now, it seemed, she was barren.

“What do you suppose they’re thinking, your horses?”

Jess dropped her hand and smiled. “Our horses,” she corrected. “They’re probably wishing they had taken a train instead.”

Jake chuckled, his broad shoulders threatening the seams of his white cotton shirt. “Is that what you wish, Jess? That the transcontinental was nearly finished instead of only beginning?”

“No, I wouldn’t want to be packed into a noisy passenger car any more than you would. I’d rather see the land, be a part of it.”

“Well this land looks as though it’s seen some rain this year.”

“I was just thinking the same.”

“What else were you thinking?”

Jess glanced at him. Since the day they met in Carson City more than a year before, she’d often been startled by how closely he paid attention, how he seemed to know her thoughts. “Mostly I’m looking forward to seeing everyone at the ranch,” she evaded. “Ho Chen, Doyle, all the Paiute women, and Two Hands. I wonder how many of the mustangs Lone Wolf was able to breed.”

The Bennett Mountain Ranch. Their ranch. Tickled by the thought, Jess laughed out loud in pure joy.

“Jess?” The curiosity in Jake’s voice pulled her gaze to his.

“We’re going home,” she said, a pleasant tightness in her chest. “I feel . . .” She lifted a hand, uncertain how to describe it. “I feel like a young falcon, about to leap into the wind for the first time.”

He smiled his understanding, then suddenly turned tense, alert. He drew his Remington. An instant later, Taggart and Diaz did the same.

“What—?”

A rock burst on the ground beside Jess. The sharp report of rifle fire echoed across the desert. All at once shots exploded, pelting the road around them with shattered stones and dust plumes. Drawing her own revolver, Jess whipped her mare around and looked past Jake to an outcropping of rocks where rifles barked and gun smoke curled away.

The mare abruptly jerked then reared high, spilling Jess’s hat and tumbling her long braid free. The horse teetered on its hind legs then went over backward.

Pain exploded through Jess’s back and lungs.

Then, darkness.

An image flashed through her mind—the ranch, only not as they left it. Where the workshop, supply shed, and stable had once sat, large black smudges marred the ground. Eerie dread filled her at the vision, and at the realization that though she could see the ranch compound, she heard no wind, no movement, no sound at all.

A flash of daylight, then Jess felt sharp rocks beneath her back and smelled the pungent tang of gun smoke. Pain seared her right arm. Beside her, its neck bearing a bullet hole and spattered with blood, her horse thrashed once more then lay still.

“Jess?!”

Her gaze shifted to the back of Jake’s boots which stood rooted a few feet away, his long legs and broad shoulders tense. Jake had positioned himself and his horse between her and the outcropping. The gunfire had stopped. “I’m all right, Jake. You?”

His hat shifted with his answering nod, but his attention remained fixed on the distant rocks. Finally, he turned and went down on one knee near her hip. “The gunmen are gone.”

“And the Thoroughbreds?”

“Taggart and Diaz just rode after them. They’ll bring them back.” With great care, he leaned over her and felt her ribs, but pain whorled through her side, and she winced and caught her breath. Then winced again. “Anything feel broken, Jess?”

“I don’t believe so, but my ribs hurt when I breathe in.”

He pressed gently on her left side where she indicated, shifted his big hand, then pressed again. “I can’t feel any movement through your corset. I suspect that contraption just saved you from anything worse than bruising. Your ribs will likely hurt for a few weeks, especially when you breathe in, but they should heal fine.” He glanced at the cut on her arm that had begun to burn like fire, then stood and retrieved a bottle of whiskey and a clean bandana from his saddlebag.

With her good arm, Jess carefully pushed herself up, forcing herself not to groan at the pain in her side. Ranchmen never complained, even when shot. She had become one of them, and she wasn’t about to fuss over a little bruising and a cut.

Jake walked a few paces to where her hat had fallen on the other side of the dead horse then hesitantly returned it to her. She pulled it on, sensing his concern for her with the simple gesture, and felt overwhelming relief that he hadn’t been injured in the attack. “Jake, those men couldn’t have been outlaws. They must have been Paiute.”

He looped his horse’s reins around his arm and handed her the folded bandana. “That was my thought as well. If they’d been outlaws, they would have gone after the horses.”

He’d known, Jess realized. That was why she’d seen him fire only warning shots into the ground; she and Jake had friends among the Paiute. Several families worked at their ranch.

“Bands of Paiute have been trying to warn off immigrants for the last few years,” he said, “shooting from the hills along the Lassen Trail and north of Pyramid Lake. Apparently things have gotten worse, and the Paiutes have gotten bolder. You’re wearing britches and your braid was up under your hat. When your hat fell and your braid came free, they took off, so apparently they’re just warning folks away. None of the Paiutes I’ve met have ever killed innocent settlers.”

“But why attack this far south? You’re not the only rancher around here who employs them.”

“I agree; it doesn’t make sense.” Jake looked to where Taggart and Diaz had regained control of the Thoroughbreds less than a mile away. One man rode on either side of the herd, heading toward them at an easy pace to calm the skittish horses. “Let’s see your arm.”

Blood had soaked into the blue flannel shirtsleeve along her forearm, and from the feel of it dripping down her arm and the throbbing pain, she knew it was more than a simple cut.

Something flickered in Jake’s eyes. “You were shot?”

“No, I wasn’t. I must have hit it on a rock when I fell. Come to think of it, I lost my gun.” She briefly scanned the ground for it, but then he eased the sleeve up her arm and she looked away, certain that if she saw the wound, it would hurt more. “How bad is it?”

Jake held her forearm in his hand and gently turned it from side to side. “It’s a gash, but I won’t have to stitch it.”

The cork made a dull thunk as he pulled it from the whiskey bottle. The bottle glugged, then searing liquid ran over her arm with the piercing sting of a branding iron. She drew in her breath. Her ribs screamed.

“Bennett!”

“Do you know you only call me Bennett when you’re put out with me?” He poured again.

Jess hissed through her teeth, then smiled a little at the tease in his deep, mellow voice. “I think it’s a habit.”

“To be put out with me?”

For the sake of her ribs, she fought against a chuckle. “No, to call you Bennett in front of the men.” Jess knew he intentionally kept the conversation light. “If the men hear me call you Jake, it might change your status in their eyes. They don’t need to see you as my husband; they need to see you as their boss.”

“Only on the range, Jess. When the doors close at night, there will only be you and me.”

Jess stiffened as though she’d been struck. He’d wanted to reassure her with his words, she knew, yet it was a painful reminder that she still wasn’t expecting after nearly seven months of marriage. But, she told herself, what mattered most right now was the ranch, and building it with Jake. A quarter of a mile away, Taggart and Diaz had stopped and stood talking together, keeping a casual watch on the desert while the horses grazed. Their horses, hers and Jake’s. Horses which would enable them to be less dependent on cattle for their income, and to be one of the first ranches in the northern Sierras to raise horses to sell. If only . . . Now that they were out of danger, she allowed herself to ponder the odd vision. The cold fear returned, and her knees and legs trembled.

“Jake, I saw something . . . in my mind, when I fell.”

In the shadow of his hat brim, his sun-bronzed face turned thoughtful. Jake corked and set aside the whiskey, took the cloth from her hand, and bound the wound. “What is it that you saw?”

“The ranch compound, except some of the buildings were gone, and two of the corrals,” she recalled. “Only one corral remained. Where they had stood, the ground was black as though barrels of gunpowder had spilled. Seeing it scared me, Jake. I only saw it for a second or two, but in that instant, it felt as real as if I was actually there. Then I opened my eyes and saw the horse beside me, and then you. I think something bad is going to happen.”

Rather than wave away or make excuses for what she’d told him, he remained beside her, elbow on his knee, as he considered. She loved him for always listening to her.

“Has this ever happened before?”

“No. I have felt strongly about the outcome of various events, though, so strongly that I knew what would or wouldn’t happen. A year ago, when Ambrose was listed as missing in the war, I knew my brother wasn’t dead. I knew it.”

“I remember. You also told me last autumn that you believed outlaws would attack the ranch, and then they did.”

“So you believe me?”

“I don’t doubt that you saw what you say you did. Yes, I believe you.” He briefly scanned the foothills; there was no unusual movement among the rocks and sagebrush. “Do you remember my pa’s neighbor, the older lady who walked with two canes?”

“I only met her once, but I remember her.”

“When I was a boy—no more than nine or ten—she hurried over one night in a fluster and told my pa a tornado was coming, no more than an hour out. Almost exactly an hour later, it struck and took out half our corn before it dissipated. Later she told my pa that she occasionally had feelings about such things, and even saw a number of events before they happened. Premonitions, I reckon. I’ve occasionally heard similar about other women, whether or not their husbands had the good sense to listen to them. No, I won’t discount what you’ve told me, Jess.”

“But you don’t believe it.”

“I won’t lie to you, Jess. I’m not sure if I believe it or if I don’t.” He reached over and lightly squeezed her good arm. “Let’s just take things as they come.”

Jess struggled with disappointment, but she was glad Jake had listened. Within hours, they would learn firsthand if what she envisioned had, in fact, happened.

As Jake helped her to her feet, she dearly hoped they would find the ranch to be just as they left it, but she didn’t believe it would be.

##

At Jess’s insistence that she would not ride double due to her injuries any sooner than Jake would in her place, Jake had pulled the saddle, bridle, and gear from Jess’s dead horse and saddled the Thoroughbred stallion he would ride while Jess rode his calmer quarter horse—the only concession she would make.

Jess was more willful and determined than a Chicago storm.

Lord above, he loved that about her.

Unfortunately, it also made his guts churn in agony.

When her horse went over and crushed her beneath, his heart nearly exploded. Then, injured and struggling to rise, the gelding rolled over her again before it thrashed then lay still beside her. Years ago, about twenty miles to the south of where they rode now, his first wife and their baby daughter were on their way to visit family when outlaws attacked and killed them both. He nearly died himself when he discovered their bodies, Olivia’s and Sadie’s. He couldn’t endure losing Jess or seeing her harmed again.

What she had said about a premonition sat like a passel of thorns in his mind. He could work through whatever came, but what about Jess? She had been raised the daughter of a horse breeder in Lexington, Kentucky, and when the Hale family had moved west, she had kept books for his import business. She had not been raised to this life. She was strong and determined now, but what if years of hardships of living and working on a ranch in the wilderness became too much for her as it did for many ranchers’ wives? The fear entered his mind weeks ago when he lost several of their Thoroughbreds to Plains Indians, and the gunmen’s attack—and what she suffered as a result—solidified that fear. Would he eventually lose her?

“Bennett? Your face has turned grim and stiff as iron,” she said. “You’re worried about something. What’s on your mind?”

Rimmed with long, sooty lashes, Jess’s sage-green eyes bore into his as she brushed loose strands of her brown hair from her face. Her soft, rose-red lips revealed she was all woman, though she rode with the ease a man, albeit having a care for an injured side. He and Jess hadn’t been alone a single moment in weeks, even after nightfall, and now her ribs were injured. Though he’d waited with great patience all this time to be alone with her in the ranch house, what he’d had in mind would have to wait until she’d healed. All that mattered was that he keep her safe and give her a horse ranch to replace the one she’d loved and left behind years ago in Kentucky.

He eyed her revolver which was holstered once again in the gun belt at her narrow waist. Seeing to it that she was safe and happy was no small task. Trouble seemed to follow her. That is, when she wasn’t out looking for it.

One of the Thoroughbreds started to break from the herd. Jake changed its mind with a quick wave of the coiled rope in his hand, and forced a new thought into his own mind so he could answer her without dishonesty. “Well, Missus Bennett, I was just hoping there’s been enough rain that the river’s running high again. I plan to sink right into it, boots and all.”

Jess’s rosy lips curved into in a smile. “You’ll rust your spurs.”

“Hardly. After riding for weeks behind this herd amid all the dust they’re raising, my spurs’ll need a good soaking just as much as I will.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed, “but that’s not what turned your jaw to iron, and a muscle in your neck stood out when you glanced at my gun.”

Jake sighed. A dozen or so yards ahead of him and Jess, Taggart and Diaz rode in comfortable silence, their attention on the herd they wrangled. There was little chance they would overhear. Even so, Jake discreetly lowered his voice.

“What’s on my mind is that for the past few years you held your family together despite the war trying to pull you apart, and you were strong for your ma before she died. You didn’t have anyone to depend on but yourself for a long time, and I respect all you did for them. But—”

“But I’m impulsive.”

“No. Courageous.”

Jess blinked. She hadn’t expected that.

“You weren’t born to this life, Jess, and the Almighty must have known you’d need plenty of courage, because He surely gave you a barrelful.” He grinned, then more soberly looked to the bandana he’d knotted as a bandage on her forearm. “I’d just like you to tell me if this life becomes . . . hard for you. I’ll do whatever I can to keep that from happening, even if we have to give up the ranch and move on.”

Her eyes flashed green fire. “Not born to this life? Bennett, do you think I’d rather be dungeoned up in the dank corner of a store tallying rows of numbers than be here with you? And what about Olivia? You married her.”

“Times weren’t hard for Olivia and me. Besides, she was born to this.”

“I grew up in the South amid political stirrings and secessions, and the knowledge that during my lifetime war would come and possibly destroy all I held dear. What would you reply if I had said that to you?”

Jake lifted a shoulder, acknowledging her point. “I probably would have said that trials build character. But I was brought up this way. You and I are different.”

“Look again.” Jess huffed indignantly. “I thought I was the one who fell off a horse and had the sense knocked out of—”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

At his confession, her anger abruptly vanished, and her face held only understanding and love. “Then I’ll be careful not to get ‘lost.’”

Jake returned his attention to their herd. Her words sounded nearly as soothing to his mind as the smooth, Southern accent with which she had spoken them.

Lord above, he loved that about her too.

##

“Hey, boss,” Diaz called over his shoulder to Jake. “Those vacas are on your ranch, but they don’ carry your brand.”

Jess peered at the herd of eighteen or twenty cows grazing about an acre’s length distant. Diaz was right. Instead of Jake’s sideways B brand with the flat side down, each red-and-white hide bore a circle with an M in the center. They leisurely enjoyed the Bennett Ranch’s bunchgrass as if they’d always called the place home.

The nearest ranch was located so far from their own that Jess had never seen another brand within a mile of the compound. That uncomfortable realization, coupled with the fact that none of their ranchmen, mustangs, or cattle were in sight, fueled her apprehension.

Something was very wrong.

The men whistled the Thoroughbreds on, and finally, over the tops of the sagebrush, the ranch buildings came into view. The massive stable should have been the first building they saw. It was gone, and no smaller structures that had once huddled beside it remained to block their view of the barn.

Jess felt rather than saw Jake tense beside her.

The Paiute village that had stretched along the riverbank lay dismantled and scattered, as if the wigwams had been forcibly torn apart and the branches dragged beyond the outskirts of the camp.

Taggart and Diaz exchanged troubled glances, but drove the horses the final distance into the compound.

Where the workshop, supply shed, and stable had once sat, large black smudges marred the ground. Only one of three corrals that Jake had built remained.

In silence Jake, Taggart, and Diaz guided the stallions into the sole corral, and, having a care for her ribs, Jess closed and latched the gate.

The men stepped to the ground then tied their reins over the top rail of the corral. While Taggart and Diaz began to unload and unsaddle their horses, Jake gently lifted her down.

Like the hired men, Jess untied her saddlebags and set them aside then loosened the cinch strap. Though the buildings that had stood on the east end of the compound had been destroyed, the barn to the north and the smithy and cookhouse to the immediate west of it seemed to be in good condition, though no inviting, fragrant smoke rose from the cookhouse chimney. South and west of the cookhouse, the bunkhouse lay low and long as it always had, and south of that—between her and the initial slope that led up into the Sierra Nevada Mountains that she loved—rose the pine logs that formed the two stories of the ranch house. Its wide front window, brown with dust, would benefit from cleaning, and the porch and its two steps looked weathered and in need of repair.

By all appearances, the ranch had been deserted, except that to the west, beyond the bunkhouse, the garden had been planted, and beyond it, on what had been their property, someone had built a new house.

The silence shattered with the loud metallic cock of a shotgun.

All of them spun toward the ranch house.

My Review: The Homecoming by Dan Walsh

2010-07-01T14:46:00.001-04:00

The Homecoming
(sequel to The Unfinished Gift)

by Dan Walsh

Christian Fiction / Historical

Revell Books

(from Amazon):

No sooner is Shawn Collins home from the fighting in Europe than he's called upon to serve his country as a war hero on a USO bond tour. Others might jump at the chance to travel all around the country with attractive Hollywood starlets. But not Shawn. He just wants to stay home with his son Patrick, his aging father and to grieve the loss of his wife in private.

When Shawn asks Katherine Townsend, Patrick's former social worker, to be Patrick's nanny while he's on the road, he has no idea how this decision will impact his life. Could it be the key to his future happiness and the mending of his heart? Or will the war once again threaten his chances for a new start?

What I thought:

I thought this was a fitting ending to the Collins' family's story. It was nice to catch up with all of the great characters we first met in The Unfinished Gift. Patrick has settled in nicely with his crotchety old grandfather, and they seem to be getting along relatively well. Mr. Collins' spry old neighbor, Mrs. Fortini, makes sure they're eating properly by whipping up some delightful Italian dishes.

Katherine Townsend misses Patrick terribly! Now that she's no longer on his case, she doesn't have a legitimate reason to spend much time with him. She still worries that he and his grandfather may not have settled in quite as quickly as everyone seems to think. Imagine her surprise -- and delight! -- when she gets a call from Shawn, out of the blue, asking her to be Patrick's full-time nanny while he's away for four months. She can't believe he chose her for this wonderful job!

There's a lot more "action" in The Homecoming, and though I'm not a big fan of war-themed stories, this one turned out quite well. The romance is very low-key, but I thought it fit the story well. The Unfinished Gift is definitely my favorite, but I highly recommend this one, too.

If you'd like to find out more about Dan Walsh, and/or his books, be sure to visit his website and blog.

***I received my review copy from Donna @ Revell Books -- thank you!***

My Review: A Love of Her Own (Heart of the West, Bk 3) by Maggie Brendan

2010-06-27T17:02:00.003-04:00

A Love of Her Own

(Heart of the West, Bk 3)

by Maggie Brendan

Christian Fiction / Historical /

Romance

Revell Publishing

Pages: 326

ISBN: 9780800733513

(from Amazon):

She has everything her heart desires . . . except the one thing money can't buy

Still cautious after a broken engagement, April McBride fully intends to guard her heart when she travels to Lewistown, Montana, to attend her brother's wedding. One look around the small mining town convinces April that doing so won't be difficult--just a bunch of dusty shops, bad service, and ill-bred cowboys. But a run-in with horse trainer Wes Owen opens up vast possibilities for frustration, embarrassment, friendship, and . . . love?

Can April and Wes see past their differences to envision a future together? Or are they destined to live the rest of their lives alone?

Book three in the Heart of the West series, A Love of Her Own is an adventurous, spark-filled ride through love in turn-of-the-century Montana.

What I thought (with a few spoilers):

I'm so happy to finally know what happens to Josh McBride's sister, April! Ever since I first met this blonde-haired spit-fire in No Place for a Lady, I've wondered how her story was gonna play out. It was a wild ride, just as I had suspected!

Though April was my least favorite person back then, she finally redeems herself in her own story. She still comes across as a little selfish, very independent, and somewhat spoiled. All in all, this makes for a really fast-paced read. It was nice to catch up with some of the folks from The Jewel of His Heart, but Josh and Juliana were hardly even mentioned (they were on their honeymoon!).

Wes Owen turns out to be such a sweetheart -- I'm so glad! I wanted to like him in The Jewel of Her Heart, but he was still rough around the edges. He has since straightened out his life, and become one delicious horse trainer. ;)

There are lots of great secondary characters, one of which is Billy Taylor, a young orphan who loves horses almost as much as April. He became one of my favorite people right from the start. It was also lots of fun getting to know Natalie, Louise, Miss Margaret, and so many more of the folks who reside in Lewistown, Montana.

I only have one "complaint" with this book -- the very abrupt, slam-the-door in your face ending. I mean, WOW! One minute you're sitting there, enjoying a historical moment with April, Wes, Billy, and their friends -- then, a few pages later, the story is over! I didn't see it coming and was unpleasantly surprised. I still had a few questions that weren't yet answered. What happened to Billy (he's one of my favorite characters)? Did he find a permanent home with Morgan and Lenora? Did anything serious develop between Louise and Mark? What did April's parents think about her decision to stay in Montana? I just felt unsettled at the end; like I wasn't given time to prepare. Maybe it's just me, and it didn't/won't bother anyone else. Don't get me wrong, it's definitely worth reading - I was just a little disappointed.

If you haven't read any of Maggie Brendan's books, be sure to pick up this series and read them from beginning to end. The characters are wonderful and will seem like family in no time. You can visit Maggie at her blog: SouthernBelle Writer.

***Thanks to Donna @ Revell Publishing for providing me a copy to review! ***

My Review: Seeds of Summer (Seasons of Tallgrass, Bk 2) by Deborah Vogts

2010-06-23T19:08:00.002-04:00

Seeds of Summer
(Seasons of Tallgrass, Bk 2)

by Deborah Vogts

Christian Fiction / Contemporary /

Romance

Zondervan

Pages: 320

ISBN: 9780310292760

(from Amazon):

When opposites attract, sparks fly--like an electrical malfunction. That's what happens when former rodeo queen, Natalie Adams meets the new pastor in Diamond Falls.

Upon the death of her father, Natalie returns to the Flint Hills to raise her two half-siblings and run the family ranch, giving up her dreams for the future. She soon realizes her time in college and as Miss Rodeo Kansas is not enough to break the bonds that held her as a girl.

Jared Logan, a new pastor in Diamond Falls, is set on making a good impression to his first congregation, but finds that change doesn't come easy for some people. In fact, most in his congregation are set against it. Natalie and her troubled family provide an outlet for his energy and soon become his personal mission project. Having raised her stepbrother and sister from an early youth, Natalie's self-sufficient nature isn't inclined to accept help, especially from a city-boy do-gooder like Jared Logen. Though attracted to him, there's no way she'd ever consider being a pastor's wife. Bible studies and bake sales just aren't her thing.

Jared repeatedly comes to Natalie's rescue, forcing her to see him with new eyes. At the same time, Jared's plan to plant Christ's word in Natalie's heart backfires when he loses his own heart to this wayward family. When problems arise in his congregation, he must face his greatest fears---of letting down God, his congregation, or those he loves. His time with Natalie has shown him the importance of standing by those you love, a lesson he chose to ignore in order to please his father years ago. This is put to the test when Natalie faces a battle of custody of her half-siblings against the mother who abandoned them twelve years ago. Natalie's fight for the children turns into a fight for custody of her heart as she learns the true meaning of unconditional love. In turn, Jared must decide which dreams are his own---and whether Natalie is part of those dreams.

What I thought:

As soon as I finished reading the first book in this series, Snow Melts in Spring, I didn't know how I could possibly wait months to read this one. As it turns out, it wasn't as hard as I expected. =) Let me also mention, to those of you that are familiar with my obsession of reading series books in order, there is really no need with these 2 books. The characters from Snow Melts in Spring are just briefly mentioned in Seeds of Summer.

While this was a really good story, it didn't touch my heart as much as the first one did. For some reason, I had a really hard time connecting with Natalie. She just seemed so distant, and even a little selfish, at times. Initially, I thought we would have quite a bit in common, as I'm the oldest of 4 girls and pretty much helped my Mom raise my 2 youngest sisters. I guess the fact that my Mom WAS around took out the "common" factor, as I wasn't completely responsible for them like Natalie was her younger half-siblings, Chelsey and Dillon.

I fell in love with Dillon from the beginning, especially the way he was always looking out for Natalie, though he is years younger -- Chelsey, not so much. She was pretty obnoxious in the beginning, but eventually turned out to be a really sweet girl. And their mother, Libby, whew!, she is something else.

On a positive note, I thought Jared was a real sweetheart! Normally, I think of pastors as being serious, older men -- definitely NOT so in Jared's case. He is the perfect example of how we should all treat one another, while at the same time doing his best to straighten out his own life. Jared faces some really tough personal decisions, but doesn't lose sight of the fact that he is a pastor first; before being a son, a friend, or a potential boyfriend/husband. He takes the time to stop and listen to what God has in mind for him, instead of just continuing to make his own choices -- even though, it might mean not getting what his heart desires most.

If you haven't had the pleasure of reading either of Deborah Vogts books, be sure to drop by and visit her blog, Country at Heart, or her website.

***I would like to say "thank you" to Deborah for sending me a copy of her book. I would also like to thank Londa Alderink of Zondervan.***

If you'd like to read the first chapter, CLICK HERE.

My Review: Hurricanes in Paradise by Denise Hildreth

2010-06-23T18:04:00.002-04:00

Hurricanes in Paradise

by Denise Hildreth

General Fiction / Christian /

(some) Romance

Tyndale Fiction

Pages: 375

ISBN: 9781414335575

(from Amazon):

When Riley Sinclair stepped into her new job as director of guest relations at a posh resort on Paradise Island, she felt the final pieces of her once-broken life coming together. But the waters become choppy when Riley discovers that some who come to the Atlantis Hotel are accompanied by paralyzing secrets and overwhelming fears.

Riley and three guests are in desperate but unknowing need of each other, eventually forging unlikely yet powerful friendships. With a hurricane headed straight for the island, together they embark on a journey of laughter, heartache, and healing.

What I thought:

When I first saw this book was available to review, via FIRST Wild Card Tours, I wasn't sure whether it was something I would enjoy reading, or not. I decided to go ahead and request it, since I had enjoyed Denise's previous book, The Will of Wisteria.

Let me just tell you that I am sooooo glad I got my hands on this book -- it is absolutely amazing! There are so many laugh-out-loud moments, but I also found myself almost sobbing at times. Hurricanes in Paradise will most definitely be on my Top 10 list of favorite books for 2010. Yes, it's THAT good!

As you can see from the synopsis, this book is about 4 women who end up at the same resort in the Bahamas. They've all had life-changing experiences that they haven't quite come to terms with, though none of them actually realize it.

Let me interrupt myself, and mention this -- if you don't enjoy reading books that focus on how truly great God is, then this one may not be for you. I, personally, don't enjoy reading a book where I feel like religion is being "forced" on me, but in no way whatsoever did I feel that way with this book. I actually thought everything fit together perfectly.

The first person you meet will be Riley Sinclair -- she is the director of guest relations at the five-star resort, Atlantis, where this story takes place. After her life fell completely apart, and she reached absolute rock-bottom, Riley decided that she needed to get away from everything familiar and try to start over with a clean slate. Even though she feels like she has dealt with the heart-breaking events of her past, she soon finds out that she has a lot of emotional "baggage" locked up tight inside. One huge lesson that Riley has yet to learn is that she can't truly move on with her life until she finally forgives herself for the tragic events from her past -- as her family, her friends, and especially her God, have already done.

The next woman to arrive at Atlantis is Tamyra Larsen, who is a "pagent" girl. A few weeks before her arrival, she decided to sell everything she owned, including her car. She made this extreme decision after receiving the most devastating news of her young life. Tamyra hasn't even found the courage to tell her family what's going on, but she eventually opens up to one of the other ladies staying at the resort. Her story was a real tear-jerker for me!

Dr. Winnie Harris is the third to arrive, and she is the most colorful character in this story. Her crazy sayings had me laughing so hard I had tears running down my face! You never know what's gonna come out of her mouth! She is also one of the most caring women -- always ready to listen whenever anyone needs to talk, no matter if it's day or night.

The most famous guest is Laine Fulton. She is a world renowned author, and has an attitude that just won't wait. Laine was the hardest character for me to warm up to, as she gives you no reason whatsoever to like her. She's rude, obnoxious, and just plain uncaring of other people's feelings -- at least, that's how she first comes across. By the end of the story, she had found a special place in my heart.

There are quite a few more characters involved to help carry this story along, but I don't want to bore you to death, or give away any vital information that might ruin it in any way for someone!

Writing this review, and remembering special scenes, has almost brought me to tears once again. I can't encourage you enough to go out and BUY a copy of this book if you have to! Just get yourself a copy as soon as you possibly can -- it's definitely worth your time!

To find out more about Denise Hildreth and/or her books, be sure to pop over to her website.

***I would like to say a special "thank you" to Vicky Lynch of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc for sending me a review copy, via FIRST Wild Card Tours.***

To read the first chapter, CLICK HERE.

The Homecoming by Dan Walsh

2010-06-20T09:48:00.000-04:00

First of all, let me apologize for not having my review ready to post. I was out of town all last week, on vacation with my family, and forgot to take this book with me to read -- not that I had much quiet time to read anyway. Our 6-year-old nephew went, too, so he kept us entertained most of the time! We had a lot of fun, but it went by way too quickly.

I'm posting the info/synopsis about Dan's book, until I have a chance to read it, then post my review.

The Homecoming

by Dan Walsh

Christian Fiction / Historical

Revell Publishing

Pages: 320

ISBN: 9780800733896

(from Amazon):

Watch for my review -- coming soon!

FIRST Wild Card Tour: Ransome's Crossing (The Ransome Trilogy, Bk 2) by Kaye Dacus

2010-06-17T12:32:00.000-04:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Kaye Dacus

and the book:

Ransome’s Crossing (The Ransome Trilogy)

Harvest House Publishers (June 1, 2010)

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

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Kaye Dacus, author of Ransome’s Honor has a Bachelor of Arts in English, with a minor in history, and a Master of Arts in Writing Popular Fiction. Her love of the Regency era started with Jane Austen. Her passion for literature and for history come together to shape her creative, well-researched, and engaging writing

Visit the author's website.

Product Details:

List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 336 pages

Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (June 1, 2010)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 0736927549

ISBN-13: 978-0736927543

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Portsmouth, England

August 17, 1814

Ned Cochrane, first lieutenant, HMS Alexandra, stepped out of the jolly boat onto the stone dock and glanced around at the early morning bustle of the dockyard crew. Only nine days remained to fill the crew roster and fit out the ship with the supplies needed for the first leg of a transatlantic voyage. With yesterday lost in celebrating Captain—no, Commodore Ransome’s wedding—and since the commodore’s attention would be necessarily split between distractions on land and his duties to his ship, Ned would shoulder the burden of preparing the ship and crew.

“Sir, look out! Lieutenant Cochrane!”

Ned spun—and fell back just in time to save himself from being swept off the quay by a net full of barrels swinging at the end of a crane. His hat wasn’t so fortunate.

The cargo swayed menacingly overhead. Ned scrambled backward, out of harm’s way. Once clear, he leapt to his feet. “You, there! Watch what you’re about. Secure that crane,” he yelled at the negligent dock crew.

“Are you all right, sir?”

The voice—an odd timbre in the chorus of tenor, baritone, and bass tones usually heard in the dockyard—matched the one which had called the warning. He turned.

A young man, not really more than a boy in a worn, ill-fitting midshipman’s uniform, stood holding Ned’s dripping hat. Sure enough, the lad’s right sleeve was wet to the shoulder.

“Nothing injured but my pride.” Ned took his hat and studied the midshipman. The boy’s tall, round hat concealed most of his dark hair, but…Ned squinted against the bright glare of the sun off the water and surrounding gray stone. “Do I know you, lad?”

The boy touched the brim of the shabby hat. “Charles Lott, sir. We spoke last week. You said there might be a place for me aboard your ship.”

“Ah, yes.” Ned now recalled meeting the midshipman, who’d answered Ned’s questions when the boy had first approached him about a position aboard Alexandra last week, even the question Ned had missed the first time he’d stood for his lieutenancy examination. “I’m sorry, but we have filled the positions on Alexandra.”

Shocked disappointment filled the boy’s elfin face.

“However, I have recommended you to the captain of Audacious.” Ned struggled to keep the smile from his face.

“Audacious? Captain Yates, then?”

Ned sighed. He liked Commodore Ransome’s friend extraordinarily and had looked forward to the fun to be had on Jamaica station with two such commanders. “Alas, I am afraid to say Captain Yates has resigned his commission. Captain Parker is taking command of Audacious.” Ned glanced around the quay. “There is his first officer. Come, I shall introduce you.”

“Thank you, sir.” Midshipman Lott straightened the white collar and cuffs of his too-large coat.

Ned caught his counterpart’s attention and met him near the steps to the upper rampart. He made the introduction and stood back as the first lieutenant of Audacious, Montgomery Howe, put a series of questions to the lad. Lott answered each quickly and with near textbook precision.

“Well done, Mr. Lott. You are ordered to present yourself day after tomorrow to begin your official duties.”

The boy’s face paled. “Sir, may I have until next Thursday?”

“The day before we sail?” Howe crossed his arms and glared at Ned and then at Lott.

Ned ground his teeth at the boy’s impertinence, which was casting him—Ned—in a bad light. He’d recommended the lad, after all.

“Yes, sir. I am aware it is an inconvenience, but my mother is a widow, and I must see that she is settled—that our business affairs are settled—before I could leave on such a long journey.”

“And it will take a sennight?” Ned asked.

“We live in the north part of the country, sir. ’Tis a three days’ journey by post, sir.” Lott spoke to the cobblestones below his feet.

Aye, well should he be ashamed to make such a request…though many years ago, a newly made captain had let a newly made lieutenant have four days to see to his own widowed mother and sister.

Apparently, from the expression that flickered across Howe’s face, he had also received a similar mercy some time earlier in his career. “Very well, then. You are to present yourself to me on deck of Audacious no later than seven bells in the morning watch Thursday next. If you are late, your spot will be given to someone else. Understand?”

“Aye, sir!” Lott touched the brim of his hat again. “Thank you, sir.”

“Dismissed—oh, and Mr. Lott?”

The boy, a few paces away already, halted and turned, at attention again. “Aye, sir?”

“Make yourself more presentable by next week if you can. You can find plenty of secondhand uniforms available in the shops in much better condition than yours. And get a haircut. I do not allow midshipmen to tuck their hair under their collars.”

Lott’s hand flew to the back of his neck, eyes wide. “Aye, aye, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Ned moved to stand beside Howe as the boy ran down the quay. “Sorry for the inconvenience, Monty, but I have a feeling that boy will do well by you.”

“I’ve never heard a lad recite the answers so perfectly. He’s slight. Says he’s fifteen? Can’t be more than thirteen or fourteen.”

“Some boys don’t mature as quickly as others. You should remember that quite well.” Ned bumped his shoulder against his former berth mate’s.

Howe shoved him back. “Just because you gained height and a deeper voice before I did doesn’t mean you matured faster, Ned. In fact, you could probably learn manners in decorum and respect from little Charlie Lott.”

Ned guffawed and bade his friend farewell. He wasn’t certain if he could learn anything from the young midshipman, but he would certainly look out for him and do whatever he could to promote the boy’s interest. He had the feeling Charles Lott would make a good officer some day.

Charlotte Ransome dived behind a large shrub and held her breath. Footsteps crunched on the gravel garden path, coming toward her closer and closer.

Had he seen her?

Keep walking. Please, Lord, let him keep walking.

When he reached her shrub, Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, fearful of blinking. If the gardener had seen and recognized her, he would report her to the Yateses, who would in turn report her to her mother and brother—and all would be lost.

A gust of wind rustled the verdure around her. Her heart thundered against her ribs, and she feared she might be sick.

But the gardener did not stop. Long after his footsteps faded, Charlotte kept to her hiding place. Quiet descended until only the noise of the streets and alleys beyond the garden walls filtered in around the enclosure behind the enormous townhouse.

Peeking around the shrub, she found the path clear once again.

Sneaking into the garden through the servants’ entrance in the rear had proven risky but successful. She hadn’t been sure she’d avoid being spotted by any of the servants, busy with their early morning duties, but Providence appeared to be with her.

She cautiously made her way across the garden to the back of the house. She peeked through the window of Collin Yates’s study and, finding it empty, slipped inside, relieved no one had discovered that she’d left it unlocked when she sneaked out of the house near dawn. She stuck her head out into the hallway, and, hearing no movement, made her way upstairs as quietly as she could. She paused on the landing and looked around the corner, down the hallway on which all of the bedrooms opened. No stirrings, no sounds. Heart pounding wildly and trying to keep her feet from touching the floor, she made her way along the thick carpet to the bedroom at the end of the hall and slipped inside, pushing the door closed with a soft click.

Movement across the room caught her eye. Turning to face the intruder, she found herself looking at a bedraggled boy in an oversized coat and britches, a tall, round hat jammed on his head almost down to his eyes.

She laughed, and the bedraggled midshipman in the mirror did likewise. Yes, her disguise was convincing enough to startle even herself. With a sigh she unbuttoned the coat and pulled it off, dropping it to the floor. When Lieutenant Cochrane had looked at her with recognition in his gray eyes, she was certain her entire plan would crash like a ship against a rocky shore. She sent up a quick prayer of thanks that he hadn’t connected her appearance as Charles Lott with her true identity.

Sinking into the chair at the dressing table, she yanked off the hat and pulled her long thick hair out from under the high collar of the uniform coat. She’d tried pinning it flat to her head, but the cumbersome length of it—past her waist when unbound—created too much bulk for even the oversized hat to conceal.

The small porcelain clock on the mantel chimed once. Half-past eight. Panic once again rising, Charlotte peeled out of the uniform—picked up for mere pennies the first time she’d been able to sneak away from her mother’s and Mrs. Yates’s chaperonage a few days ago—stuffed it in the bottom of her trunk, threw her sleeping gown over her head, and jumped into the bed, still trying to find the sleeves with her hands as the bedroom door swung quietly open.

At the thump of the water pitcher on the commode, Charlotte sat up as if awakened by the sound.

Her maid curtsied. “Good morning, miss. I brought you fresh water for washing.”

“Thank you.” Charlotte grabbed her dressing gown from the end of the bed and shrugged into it, and then she stepped behind the screen in the corner. The scent of lilacs drifted up from the warm water as she poured it into the porcelain basin in the top of the exquisite dark-wood cabinet.

After running most of the way back from the dockyard, the wet cloth felt good against her skin, especially on her neck and back where her thick braid had been pressed against her by her uniform coat.

With the maid’s assistance, she soon stood before the mirror where Midshipman Charles Lott had been reflected less than an hour ago, now looking upon a fashionable young lady. Fear that she wouldn’t be able to pull off her plan swirled in her stomach, but she pushed it aside.

“The irons are ready, miss.”

Charlotte sat at the dressing table, sipped the coffee which had been delivered while she dressed, and reviewed her plans for the next eight days as the maid twisted and twirled and pinned her hair.

Anticipation, anxiety, and excitement danced within her veins. In just over a week, she would leave Portsmouth on a grand adventure. A grand adventure that would culminate in arriving in Jamaica, being reunited with Henry Winchester, and marrying him.

“Your new rank suits you, Commodore Ransome.”

William met Julia’s green eyes in the mirror’s reflection. Sitting in the middle of the bed in her white sleeping gown, her coppery hair cascading in riotous curls around her shoulders and back, she looked as young as when he’d made the gut-wrenching decision to walk away from her twelve years ago.

Now she was his wife. His knees quaked at the thought.

He returned to the examination of his new uniform coat, delivered from the tailor just this morning. “I am indebted to your father for arranging the promotion. There are many officers more deserving. All will say I received special favor because I am now his son-in-law.”

“As you should know by now,” Julia said, climbing off the bed and crossing to her dressing table, “my father does nothing unless he thinks it best for the Royal Navy.” Drawing her hairbrush through her fountain of hair, she ambled across the colorful carpet toward him. “He secured your promotion before he knew of our engagement, so that did not have any bearing on his decision.” She pulled the mass of her hair over her left shoulder and continued pulling the soft bristles of the brush through it. “And when have you ever worried about rumors going around about your being favored by my father?” A mischievous grin quirked the corners of her full lips. “Isn’t worrying about rumors and gossip what got us here in the first place?”

The fact she’d forgiven him, that she could now joke about the past, both thrilled and humbled him. He did not deserve her.

She set the brush down and came to stand behind him, looking around him at the reflection. She ran her hand along his sleeve to the braid-laden cuff. His arm tingled in reaction. He did not want to respond to her like this—every time she spoke, moved, breathed, he lost track of everything but her. He had to conquer it; otherwise, her presence aboard ship would be detrimental to his command.

A knock on the door roused both of them. The maid Lady Dalrymple had assigned to Julia entered on Julia’s entreaty.

“I will leave you.” William inclined his head and made for the door, and then he stopped as soon as he reached it. He turned and smiled at her. “Do not be long.”

“I will join you for breakfast shortly.”

He stood in the hallway a few moments after the door closed, separating him from Julia for the first time since their wedding yesterday morning. Pleasure and regret battled within him. Marrying Julia Witherington had, in less than twenty-four hours, brought him more joy than he could ever have dreamed or deserved. Yet when he thought of his duty, of his commitment to the Royal Navy, to king and country, he couldn’t help but fear he’d made his life more difficult by marrying at such a time.

The east wing of the manor house at Brampton Park, home to Lady Dalrymple, rang with emptiness. While William appreciated the privacy afforded them by the dowager viscountess’s invitation to stay in the unused section for their wedding night—with hints she would like them to stay even longer—the grandeur of it made his skin crawl, and he could not wait until he could deposit Julia at her father’s house and return to his ship.

After two wrong turns, he managed to find the small breakfast room, unused for nearly a century according to Lady Dalrymple, since the new wing and the much larger dining room had been completed.

The small room, paneled with dark wood, set him somewhat more at ease. By ignoring the narrow, tall windows, he could almost imagine himself aboard a ship in this room.

He paced, waiting for Julia, pondering how he could recover his good sense around her. When she entered the room a little while later—queenly in a purple dress, her hair the only crown she would ever need—he realized the only way he would be able to regain control of his mind would be to limit his contact with her.

Trying not to watch her serve eggs, sausage, and toast onto her plate, nor admire the curve of her neck above the lace set into the neck of her gown, William piled food onto his own plate, held Julia’s chair for her, and then took his place at the head of the small table.

“I must return to my ship today.”

Julia stirred sugar into her coffee. “Of course. I knew you would need to spend your days preparing Alexandra for the voyage.”

He cleared his throat of the bite of egg that wished to lodge there. “What I mean is that I must return to reside aboard my ship.”

Julia’s spoon clanked against her cup. Her face paled, and the light which had danced in her eyes all morning vanished.

William’s innards clenched. Perhaps he should have eased into the idea instead of blurting it out. He blamed it on her. He could not think clearly in her presence.

“Have…have you received word from your crew that there is trouble?” Her voice quavered.

“No. It is nothing like that.” Unable to stop himself, he reached across the corner of the table and took her hand in his. “My duty is to my ship, to my crew. I am needed there. Here, my attentions and loyalty are divided.”

For a brief moment, Julia’s chin quivered. But she pressed her lips together and drew in a deep breath. “I understand. And I have no desire to draw you away from your duties. I have already created too much inconvenience and upheaval in your life. I do not wish to generate more. However, I have promised Lady Dalrymple we would join her tonight for her dinner and card party as her honored guests. If we were to abdicate from her hospitality today, how would that reflect on her?”

Though well masked, the pain in Julia’s expression made William want to retract his words, to promise her he would stay here with her the remainder of the time they had in England. Any other woman would have been offended by his blundering, unreasonable demand. Julia apologized for inconveniencing him.

He raised her hand and kissed the back of it. “Aye. We will stay one more night.” Then, giving in to impulse, he leaned over, cupped that quivering chin, and claimed her lips in a searing kiss. “And I will not have you thinking yourself an inconvenience to me.”

His action resulted in the desired effect—the spark rekindled in her green eyes. She ran her finger along his jaw. “You lie too well, Commodore Ransome.”

“You start off our marriage ill, Mrs. Ransome, if you believe I would ever lie to you.” He squeezed her hand and then tucked in to his breakfast.

“Conceal the hard truth, then,” she said, cocking her head and sending the spiral curls at her temples dancing, “for the last few days have not been a convenience to you.”

“An upheaval, certainly.” He feigned a close interest in the piece of sausage speared on his fork. “However, any inconvenience I have suffered has been more than adequately recompensed not just by gaining a wife, but by finally receiving the complete approbation of my admiral.”

Julia’s gasp preceded a gale of laughter.

A surge of contentment washed away the morning’s anxieties. Perhaps being married would not interfere with his duty to the navy as severely as he’d feared.

Watch for my review -- coming soon!!

FIRST Wild Card Tour: Love on a Dime by Cara Lynn James

2010-06-15T07:00:00.000-04:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Cara Lynn James

and the book:

Love on a Dime

Thomas Nelson (June 1, 2010)

***Special thanks to Katie Bond of Thomas Nelson for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Cara Lynn James is a debut writer who has received numerous contest awards from Romance Writers of America chapters and the American Christian Fiction Writers. She resides in northwest Florida with her husband Jim. They have two grown children, Justin and Alicia; a grandson, Damian; and Papillion named Sparky.

Visit the author's website.

Product Details:

List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Thomas Nelson (June 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1595546790
ISBN-13: 978-1595546791

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

P rolo g u e

N e w Y o r k C i t y , M ay 1 8 9 3

Jack slowed his pace, his courage once more waning at
the sight of the Westbrook home across the way. Anxiety

twisted his stomach in a knot. But in the dusky light,

Lilly’s glow of confidence reignited his own flame. She

understood her parents far better than he did. Since she believed her father

would agree to the marriage, why should he hesitate?

Arm-in-arm they strolled across the road. Among the row of

fine brick townhouses facing them, the Westbrook house stood

three stories tall like all the rest, with long, paned windows overlooking

Washington Park.

Mr. Ames, the ancient butler, opened the front door. Jack and

Lilly entered the dimly lit foyer.

“Where is my father this evening?” Lilly asked the butler.

“In the back parlor, miss.”

“Shall I go with you, Jack?”

“No,” he whispered, squeezing her hand, “I’d rather do this

on my own. Say a prayer all will go well.”

Jack strode toward the parlor, determined to plead his case.

Every nerve ending in his body fired with life—and more than

a few with apprehension. He’d calm himself and then ask Mr.

Westbrook for Lilly’s hand in a respectful tone, solicitous, but

not fawning. He’d restrain his usual brash attitude and hope Mr.

Westbrook would consent to a marriage most would deem unsuitable.

If he weighed the odds of success, he wouldn’t even try.

Jack inhaled a steadying breath and increased his pace down

the narrow hallway leading to the back of the house. Gas sconces

threw a pale light along the Persian runner that muffled his footsteps

to a soft shuffle. The house lay silent except for the noise of

a sledge hammer beating against his chest.

Lord, I need a large dose of Your strength. Don’t allow me to cower.

I’ve never been a quitter and I don’t want to start now.

He hadn’t asked God for much in the past, but this was too

important to rely on his own untested powers.

Jack paused before he came to the door of the back parlor,

straightened his bow tie, and squared his shoulders. Voices stopped

him before he moved forward. He recognized Mrs. Westbrook’s

high, girlish tone. He’d wait for a lull in the conversation, excuse

his entry, and then ask to speak to Mr. Westbrook. Jack waited for

several minutes before he heard his name.

“Thomas, I noticed Jackson Grail seems especially fond of

Lilly. You don’t suppose he wants to marry her, do you?”

Jack winced at the worry in her voice. With his back to the

wall he stepped closer to the parlor.

Mr. Westbrook chuckled. “No, my dear, he’s George ’s friend,

not Lilly’s. She ’s hardly more than a child.”

“For goodness’ sake. Lilly’s nineteen, certainly old enough to

catch the eye of a young man.”

“All right, she ’s not my little girl anymore. But ready for marriage?

No, Nessie, I don’t believe so. She has lots of time to choose

a mate. There ’s no rush.”

“Hmm. I wouldn’t want her to delay too long. I’ve given considerable

thought to her future.”

“I’m sure you have,” Mr. Westbrook murmured. Jack pictured

his wry smile.

“Well, it’s my duty as her mother to guide her. Oliver Cross

or Pelham Mills come to mind as possible suitors. Maybe Harlan

Santerre. He’s such a polite young man and his mother and I have

been friends since childhood. Yes, he’s most definitely my first

choice.”

Jack let out the breath he’d been holding, knowing he should

break away, cease his eavesdropping—

“They’re all acceptable to me. But what about young Grail?

You say he might be interested in her. He’s got a good head on his

shoulders.”

“But no money in his pocket. Need I say more?”

Jack frowned and tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry.

Mr. Westbrook sighed. “No, my dear. You’re absolutely right.

He’s not suitable, though I do like him.”

“I do as well. And now he’s as finely educated as our own

George. But he would have to strike it rich quickly in order to court

Lilly,” Mrs. Westbrook added. “And that’s highly unlikely.”

“Nearly impossible, I’m afraid. So I hope you’re wrong and

young Grail hasn’t set his heart on Lilly.” Her father sighed. “He’s

an intelligent boy. I’m sure he’d know better. Especially when she

has an ambitious mama anxious to make her the perfect match.”

Mrs. Westbrook laughed. “Thomas, do stop your teasing.”

Jack bumped his shoulder against the curlicues of a large gilt

picture frame. Turning to give it a hard shove, he stopped himself.

He wouldn’t let his temper get the better of him. Leaving the oil

painting crooked, he stumbled down the patterned runner, away

from the awful voices. When he came to the foyer he dropped into

a rosewood chair and ignored the curious stare from Mr. Ames.

Jack buried his head in his hands and tried to gather his wits

before he had to face Lilly. But the Westbrooks’ conversation

resounded through his mind. Poor. Unsuitable. Why had he ever

thought they’d accept him as a son-in-law? His love for Lilly had

banished all reason. He’d lived in a fog of hope these last several

months, but now it cleared.

At the sound of light footsteps he looked up. “What did Papa

say?” Lilly asked, grasping his hands.

He glanced at her without speaking and then saw his own

anguish reflected in her eyes. He so wished his answer could bring

her joy. She gently pulled him into the dimly lit sitting room. The

sheers and heavy velvet curtains blocked all but the final rays of

daylight from seeping through the windows overlooking the park.

They faced each other in front of the unlit marble fireplace, his arms

tight around her slim waist, her hands lightly touching his vest.

“Tell me,” she said in a rasping voice, barely audible.

“I never had the chance to ask, Lilly. When I got to the back

parlor your parents were already discussing appropriate husbands.

And my name wasn’t on the list.”

“That’s because they don’t know we love each other. Papa

has never refused me anything. It might take some persuasion, but

you can do it. We can approach him together.”

Lovely, pampered Lilly, who owned her father’s heart—

except when it came to marriage partners. And marriage among

the rich was certainly a business transaction. Their kind never

married Jack’s kind. He’d gone to St. Luke ’s and Yale with the

wealthy, but as a scholarship student, he didn’t belong to their set

no matter how hard he tried to fit in. Maybe he would’ve accepted

the impenetrable barrier if Lilly hadn’t swept into his life.

He gazed at her, drinking in her passion, memorizing her

large, expressive eyes and flawless skin, her tall, slender form and

thick brown hair framing her face.

Her eyes blazed like blue fire. “Come. We ’ll speak to Papa.

Right now.”

Jack caught her wrists. “No, I can’t. I’m so sorry. He won’t change

his mind. It’s pointless to even ask.” Save me the humiliation.

Her strangled cry pierced his heart. “You won’t even try? We

love each other. Isn’t that worth fighting for?” Lilly’s voice rose

with disbelief.

How could he explain he couldn’t abide her father’s rejection?

He refused to hear again that he wasn’t good enough to court

Lilly—once was enough. And he didn’t want her to elope with

him without her parents’ approval. Jack groaned. As much as he

adored Lilly, he wasn’t acceptable to the family. The daughter of

a prosperous banker, Lilly couldn’t marry a man without a family

fortune.

“We can marry without their consent. You’ll find a good job.

I know you will. Don’t you see, Jack, we don’t need my parents’

permission.”

“But I want their respect.” And he’d never gain their esteem

by stealing their daughter away. He turned from her, running a

hand through his hair. He ’d been fooling himself. How could

he provide for Lilly, care for her in a manner in which she was

accustomed? What could he promise her? A one room apartment

in a dingy part of town while he made his way in the world,

if he ever made it at all. How long before his beautiful, young

and idealistic bride would realize she ’d sacrificed too much for

an improbable dream? He ’d harm her if he stole her from her

family.

He glanced at her and could see in her face the stubborn, naïve

hope that lingered there. But he understood reality as she never

would. He ’d let his love blossom before he should have.

Jack slowly moved away, steeling himself for the hurt yet

to come. “Your parents are right. I’m in no position to marry. I

should never have proposed, because I have nothing to offer.”

Lilly rushed to him and flung her arms around his neck, tears

spilling down her cheeks. “What about our love? Why do you

need more than that?”

“Lilly, we can’t exist on dreams. I have to earn a living. And I

can’t support you on a clerk’s salary. You’d miss your old life.”

Her lovely, soft features hardened. “You must think my love

is too weak to withstand hardship. It’s strong enough to survive

anything. Why do you doubt me so?”

Jack shook his head. “I doubt myself, not you.” What if her

confidence in his abilities weren’t warranted? What if he never

rose above petty clerk, despite his fancy education? A girl from a

society family, proud and successful for generations, could never

be content washing laundry, cooking meals, and scrubbing floors

on her hands and knees. She ’d grow bitter and resentful.

“I can adapt to less. I don’t care about a beautiful home. I only

want you,” she said, her voice rising with frustration.

He wouldn’t argue about the effects of poverty and how it

wore on a person. She wouldn’t understand. “If we came from

the same background, I wouldn’t hesitate to speak to your father.

But we didn’t.”

“But you will. I know it. I’ll wait until you feel ready to marry

me. There’s no hurry. I’m patient. I can wait forever.” She pleaded

with beautiful eyes glistening with tears.

“No, please don’t wait for me.” Jack’s voice cracked like ice.

He wanted her to wait, but he couldn’t ruin her chances of

making a suitable, maybe even a happy marriage. The odds of

succeeding in the business world without connections were small.

If and when he’d proven himself, he’d return and hope she ’d still

want him. And forgive him. But he couldn’t ask her to wait.

He blotted her tears with his handkerchief, but they kept

streaming down her face. Her slender shoulders heaved with soft

sobs. He kissed her again gently and then retreated to his bedroom

before he was tempted to crush her in his arms and beg her to

elope. He’d planned to stay for the week as George ’s guest, but

now he needed to leave quickly.

Within ten minutes he was gone.

Jack’s heart slammed against his ribs. The past two weeks had

been a misery. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t eat. Go back, go back!

his mind and heart screamed. You’ve made a terrible mistake!

His stomach roiling, Jack fought to keep a dignified pace and

not run all the way to Washington Square. At last, he stood before

the Westbrook home and tapped the front door knocker against

the heavy wood.

He’d explain he couldn’t manage without her and his infernal

pride had blocked his common sense and their tender love. Would

she accept his apology? They’d work something out. He didn’t

know how exactly, but they would. He knew their union was sanctioned,

indeed designed, by God.

Mr. Ames pulled the heavy door open. “May I help you, sir?”

“Yes. Is Miss Westbrook at home?”

The hunched-over butler shook his head. “They’ve all gone

abroad. They sailed yesterday.”

Jack’s cautious optimism collapsed in a heap of despair. “And

when will they return?”

“Next spring.”

Next spring. Jack groaned. “G-Good day,” he mumbled, turning

from the door.

I’m too late. I’ve lost her.

On e

N e w p o rt , R h o d e I s l a n d — J u ly 1 8 9 9

Six years later

With a deep sigh of satisfaction, Lilly Westbrook

whipped the last page of her manuscript out of

the Underwood typewriter. Carefully she shredded

the carbon and threw the messy strips into the wastebasket. No

meddlesome

maid could possibly reconstruct her work and tattle

to Mama.

For a moment, a wave of sadness overshadowed the pleasure

she felt at finishing another story. How she longed to share her

secret with her mother, but as much as Lilly hated deception, she

knew Mama would never understand. Mama was proud of her for

dabbling in poetry, but this?

No. It was best to stay behind closed doors to write her dime

novels.

Lilly shuddered to think of the disgrace she ’d bring upon herself

and, even worse, upon her family, if her secret was revealed.

The very notion of social ostracism weakened her knees and left

her legs wobbly. A twinge of guilt pinched her conscience as it

often did when she considered her concealment. Yet why look for

trouble when her work was progressing so well?

Lilly scrubbed her hands until all evidence of the carbon paper

and inky ribbon disappeared into the washbasin near her bed, then

covered the typewriter Mama had given her as a birthday gift a

few years before. Mama thought a typing machine unnecessary

for a poet, but she wasn’t one to begrudge her children anything

within reason.

Lilly withdrew a letter from her skirt pocket and smiled as she

re-read the last lines.

My dear Lilly,

I want to again express my thanks for all you’ve contributed to

the Christian Settlement House of New York. We so value the time

and effort you have devoted to assisting our young ladies with their

sundry life skills and English fluency. Your exceptional generosity

and financial support have enabled us to continue our work in accordance

with the Lord’s purposes.

Sincerely,

Phoebe Diller, Director

Miss Diller’s kind words sent a rush of warmth to Lilly’s heart

and strengthened her resolve to continue writing. For without the

profits from her novels, she couldn’t afford to donate more than

a few dollars to her favorite charity. How could she possibly quit

writing when her romance novels provided so many blessings to

others?

Lilly locked the final chapter in the rolltop desk by the bay

window and hid the key beneath the lining of her keepsake box.

Time for a well-deserved walk by the sea. She removed her reading

spectacles and placed her straw hat decorated with bright

poppies squarely on top of her upswept hair. After a last furtive

glance toward the desk, she left her bedroom to the morning sunshine

that splashed across the shiny oak floor and floral carpet.

All the way down the staircase she congratulated herself for

typing “The End” of her story, though it was only a few days

before deadline. That was much too close for comfort. She sighed.

Too many social events had disrupted her normal writing routine

this summer. But she had no choice but to force a smile and

attend the functions, even though most of them bored her to

distraction.

She wouldn’t think of that now. At least she’d finished the manuscript

before the deadline and for that she’d treat herself to a few

minutes out of her room. With a light heart, she strolled through

the deserted foyer, past Mr. Ames, the butler, and out the front

door. A beautiful day greeted her with its sun-blessed smile.

As she crossed the veranda, her sister-in-law Irene Westbrook,

seated at the end of the porch, peered over a small, familiar book.

The lurid cover of Lilly’s latest novel, Dorothea’s Dilemma,

popped out in garish color. Lilly stopped short and pressed her

palm over her gyrating heart.

“Oh my,” she murmured. She’d never expected to see one of

her novels in her own home, let alone in the hands of her brother’s

wife.

Irene smoothed her halo of silky blonde curls caught up in a

loose pompadour. She laid the slim paperback on her lap, her eyes

gleaming with curiosity. “Why hello, Lilly. Where have you been

on this beautiful afternoon? Cooped up in your bedroom again?

My goodness, what do you do in there all day?”

“Sometimes I enjoy a few hours of solitude.” Lilly’s nerves

seized control of her voice and it rose like the screech of a seagull.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your reading.” Heat crept into her skin as

Irene watched her, face aglow with interest.

“Do sit down, Lilly.”

She slipped into a wicker chair opposite Irene. A gust of

salty air, typical of Newport’s summer weather, blew in from the

Atlantic and brushed its cool breath across her cheeks. She prayed

it would fade the red splotches that came so easily when embarrassment

struck.

Irene cocked her head. “Is something wrong? You look positively

ill.”

“No, I’m fine.” Though every fiber of her body continued to

quiver, Lilly steadied her breathing. She folded her hands in the

lap of her charcoal-gray skirt and willed them not to shake.

“You aren’t shocked by my novel, are you?” Irene smirked.

“Of course not.” Lilly squirmed around on the soft chintz

cushion and avoided Irene ’s skeptical stare. “Why should I be

shocked?”

Irene leaned forward. “Some people claim dime novels are

trash, and from your reaction I thought you might be one of those

faultfinders. Of course they’re wrong. These books are filled with

adventure and I love adventure.” She rolled the last word around

her tongue like a stream of honey.

Irene, the niece of Quentin Kirby, one of San Francisco’s

silver kings, fancied herself an adventuress, but Lilly inwardly

disagreed. Irene merely appreciated fun and frivolity more than

most. That hardly made her a woman like the heroines of Lilly’s

books. “I’m so sorry, Irene. I didn’t mean to criticize your choice

of books. I just wondered where you obtained your copy.”

“I discovered it in the kitchen while I was searching for a

blueberry tart.” Irene grinned as if Lilly ought to admire her

cleverness.

“One of the scullery maids must have left it there.”

“You took it without asking permission?” Lilly could scarcely

believe Irene had wandered downstairs to the basement kitchen,

the domain of servants who strongly disapproved of visitors,

even the family.

“Why yes. Well no, not exactly. I borrowed it. As soon as I finish

reading, I’ll give it back. Of course.”

Irene tapped the big, red letters spelling out the author’s name

across the cover. “Fannie Cole. She’s a splendid writer, the very

best. Have you ever read any of her books? I devour them like

chocolate.”

Lilly’s heart lurched. “Naturally I’ve heard of her. I believe

her stories are rather popular.”

“They’re enthralling.”

At the sound of the front door squeaking open, Lilly looked

away with relief.

Mama bustled onto the veranda, a frown knitting her eyebrows.

“What’s that about Fannie Cole? She’s quite infamous, I

hear.” Glancing from Lilly to Irene, Mama’s eyelashes fluttered, a

sure sign of agitation. “Oh, I see you have one of her books . . .”

Lilly knew her mother couldn’t let this breach of propriety

pass without comment. On the other hand, the kind and ever

tactful Vanessa Westbrook would hate to offend her new daughter-in-

law.

“Mama, Fannie Cole writes harmless fiction. You needn’t

worry.” Lilly smiled her assurance, hoping she’d veer off to

another topic.

Her mother sunk into a wicker chair beside Irene. “Perhaps,

my dear, but you must admit, there are so many more uplifting

novels.” She patted Irene ’s arm, which was robed in a cream silk

blouse that matched the lace of her skirt. “Lillian is a poet, you

know. Her work is delightful. You must read it. I’ll go fetch you

a copy.”

Lilly cringed. “No, Mama. I wrote those poems years ago. She

wouldn’t be interested in the meanderings of an eighteen-yearold

ninny. It’s sentimental tripe.”

“Nonsense, my dear. You’ve always been much too critical of

yourself.”

“Nevertheless, I’m sure Irene would prefer Fannie Cole.”

Who wouldn’t? Lilly thought. Still, she appreciated her mother’s

enthusiasm for her meager literary efforts.

Irene tossed her a wide, grateful smile. “There, that’s settled.”

Mama’s round, girlish face tightened with distaste. “I wish

you wouldn’t read dime novels because . . .” She looked toward

Lilly for support.

“Really, Mama.” Lilly softened her voice, not meaning to

scold. “While some of the dime novels are sensational, others are

written to help working girls avoid the pitfalls of city life. They’re

moralistic tales that encourage virtue. Nothing to be ashamed of

reading.” Or writing.

“Exactly.” Irene beamed. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Of course, I read for the story, not the moral lesson, but I’m sure

it’s beneficial for those who enjoy a good sermon.”

Lilly suppressed a sigh of resignation. “No doubt Miss Cole

hopes and prays her words touch the hearts of her readers and

bring them closer to the Lord.” Lilly looked at Mama and Irene,

hoping they’d somehow understand her purpose and approve.

But both looked puzzled over her words.

Irene ’s gaze narrowed. “An odd way to spread the gospel,

don’t you think?”

“Not at all. The Lord is more creative than we are.” Lilly

bristled and then glanced away when she found her mother and

sister-in-law still staring at her.

She’d spoken up much more forcefully than she intended.

With a sinking heart, Lilly realized Mama would never accept her

viewpoint; it flew in the face of beliefs and opinions ingrained

since childhood.

Irene picked up a sheet of paper resting on a small table between

two pots of ferns and waved it like a flag on the Fourth of July. Lilly

immediately recognized Talk of the Town, a gossip rag published

by that scandalmonger, Colonel MacIntyre, the bane of Newport

society. He shot fear into the hearts of all upstanding people and

others who weren’t quite so virtuous. Lilly swallowed hard.

Mama gasped. Her pale skin whitened. “Oh my dear, that’s

hardly appropriate for a respectable home.”

Irene shrugged. “Perhaps not. But if you don’t mind my saying

so, it’s great fun to read. I’m learning the crème de la crème

of Newport are up to all kinds of mischief.” She laughed with

pleasure.

“Listen to this.” Irene leaned forward. “One hears that Miss

Fannie Cole, author of wildly popular dime novels, has taken up residence

at one of the ocean villas for the season. The talk about town

claims this writer of sensational—some might even say salacious—

stories, belongs to the New York and Newport aristocracy. Which of our

fine debutantes or matrons writes under the nom de plume, Fannie Cole?

Speculation runs rampant. Would the talented but mysterious author of

Dorothea’s Dilemma, Hearts in Tune, and several other delectable

novels please come forward and identify herself for her public?”

Lilly’s throat closed. She clamped her hands down on her lap,

but they shook like a hummingbird’s wings. Had a maid or a footman

stumbled across her secret and sold the information? Colonel

Rufus MacIntyre of Talk of the Town paid handsomely for gossip.

No one was safe from his long, grasping tentacles, including some

of the most prominent people in society.

“The colonel has mentioned Miss Cole in his column for the

last two weeks, so I expect we’ll hear more about her during the

summer.” Irene grinned as she studied the sheet. “I wonder who

she is. I’d love to meet her.”

Mama’s mouth puckered into a small circle. “Undoubtedly

someone from the wrong side of the tracks. No one we’d know.”

She punctuated her words with a firm nod.

Irene persisted. “You must have an idea, Lilly. You seem to

know everything that’s going on in society.”

Lilly turned away, sure that a red stain had again spilled across

her pale skin. Her sister-in-law was right. She did listen to all the

tittle-tattle, but she prided herself on her discretion. The foibles

of her set provided grist for her novels, not for spreading rumors

and innuendo.

“You give me far too much credit, Irene.” She hated to dodge

questions to keep from lying, but what was her option short of

confessing? She twisted the cameo at the neck of her tailored

shirtwaist.

Mama wagged her finger. “Mark my words. By the end of

the summer someone will discover Fannie Cole’s true name and

announce it to the entire town. Oh, my. What humiliation she ’ll

bring upon her family. They’ll be mortified.”

“How delicious,” Irene murmured.

Lilly groaned inwardly. Her subterfuge gnawed at her conscience,

worsening day by day, but she couldn’t turn back the

clock and reconsider her decision to write in secret.

She rose. “Will you excuse me? I need to take my walk now.”

With her head held high and as much poise as she could muster,

Lilly descended the veranda’s shallow steps. She strode across

the wide, sloping lawn that surrounded Summerhill, the old

twenty-two-room mansion the Westbrooks rented for the season.

Once she reached the giant rocks that separated the grounds

from the ocean, she picked her way over to a smooth boulder that

doubled for a bench. As she ’d done every day since her arrival

three weeks ago, Lilly settled onto its cold surface. Instead of

watching the breakers pound against the coast and absorb the majesty

of nature ’s rhythm, she rested her head in her hands and let

the breeze brush against her face.

What would happen if her beau, Harlan Santerre, discovered

that she and Fannie Cole were the same person? The wealthy railroad

heir, a guest of the family for the eight weeks of summer,

miraculously seemed ripe to propose. Her mother kept reminding

her how grateful she should be that such a solid, upstanding man

as Harlan Santerre had shown interest in a twenty-five-year-old

spinster with no grand fortune and no great beauty. Mama and the

entire family would be humiliated if her writing became public

knowledge and Harlan turned his attention elsewhere.

Yet the Holy Ghost had urged her to compose her simple stories,

and as she wrote, her melancholy gradually faded. Her enthusiasm

never waned thanks to the joy she received from doing the Lord’s

work.

Why would He allow someone to ruin her and end the good

deeds she accomplished? He should smite her enemies instead. All

her life she ’d trusted the Lord to guide her and protect her, but

never had she needed His help more than now. But would He continue

to shield her?

Trembling, Lilly tossed a stone into the roiling surf and

watched it sink into the foamy white waves. What if the surge

of curiosity aroused by Colonel MacIntyre didn’t fade away and

everything she held dear was threatened?

Watch for my review -- coming soon!