RADIANT LIGHT

Summer of Promise

2012-01-30T22:19:00.003-07:00

Book Blurb:
Though she had planned to spend the summer in Vermont with her sweetheart, Abigail Harding cannot dismiss her concerns over her older sister. Charlotte's letters have been uncharacteristically melancholy, and her claims that nothing is wrong ring false, so Abigail heads West to Wyoming. The endless prairie seems monotonous, but when her stagecoach is attacked, Wyoming promises to be anything but boring. Luckily, the heroics of another passenger, Lieutenant Ethan Bowles, save the day.

When circumstances—and perhaps a bit of matchmaking—put Abigail and Ethan together, there's certainly attraction. But Abigail is planning to marry another man and return to life in Vermont as soon as she is finished attending to her sister. And Ethan loves his life in the Army and the wilds of Wyoming. When summer ends, will Abigail go back East? Or will she fall in love with this rugged land herself?

Book 1 of the new Westward Winds series, Summer of Promise is a tale of following your heart to unexpected places. Readers will enjoy Amanda Cabot's passionate characters and vibrant setting in the beautiful high prairie.

My Thoughts: Abigail is quite happy in Vermont, yet letters from her sister Charlotte draw her to go and see her in Fort Laramie, Wyoming. While she is on the stage-coach she is talked nearly to death by a widow who won't be quiet. On the stage-coach is a Lt. Bowles returning from leave. Abigail is not thrilled with the Wyoming countryside. To her it is boring! That changes pretty quick when the stage-coach is attacked and Lt. Bowles saves the day. When Abigail arrives she finds that her sister is pregnant and her brother in law, Jeffery is not as interested in his wife as he was when they married. Jeffery is not all that happy that his sister in law has arrived in town either. Abigail is determined to bring fun back to her sister's life and see her happy once again, after that she will return to Vermont, her teaching position, and the man she intends on marrying. Or will she?
This is the first book I've read of Amanda Cabot, and I loved it! It will not be my last! I highly recommend it and am looking forward to the next one in the series.

CSS Blog Tour - Light Under The House

2012-01-30T10:59:00.003-07:00

What inspired you to write this story?
I feel very strongly about the breakdown of the family and fatherlessness and how there is much dysfunction and despair because of it. I wanted to tell a story to shed some light on the situations that many face and hopefully bring some type of reversal to the current dynamic in whatever small way I could. I wanted to challenge men, fathers especially, to be who they were created to be ... its certainly a challenge I face myself daily. A challenge that I often fail at but keeping picking myself up to start again.

Did you model any of the characters after people you know?
I used many things to model the characters ... people I know, other literary figures, actors, biblical characters, celebrities ... the characters are a combination of all of these. I wanted them to be new and familiar at the same time, universal.

Why did you choose the Dallas/Ft Worth area as your primary setting?
First of all, the south has a certain reputation for is deep spiritual roots (bible belt and all). I patterned the book in part after GONE WITH THE WIND (another book set in the south) ... not in the sense of a love story but in the sense of "here is civilization that is about to cease to exist, come see it before its gone". In the case of my novel it is a spiritual civilization on the brink. Dallas just seemed to have everything I needed to make the story work from both a symbolic and technical standpoint.

Do you have plans to write more books?http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
i have an idea or two floating around ... nothing concrete yet.

What sort of research did you do for the historical portions of your book? What did you like best about the research? The least?
My co-author and I researched deeply into ancient history for some aspects of the book ... I learned a lot of things ... some things I'd rather forget but most of it was enlightening. What I liked best was that it confirmed for me mostly what I already knew, there really is nothing new under the sun.

Where can we find out about more opportunities for a free copy of this book?
Follow @ChristianSpkrs on Twitter. You can purchase the book through Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/Light-Under-the-House-ebook/dp/B0060C2O92.

Ruth's Redemption

2012-01-30T10:47:00.001-07:00

This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing Ruth's Redemption Moody Publishers/Lift Every Voice (February 1, 2012) by Marlene Banks

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Marlene Banks has worked 30+ years combined in nursing and the business arena. Her goal as a writer is to create inspiring, gripping and realistic stories with an emphasis on African American literature. She believes her gift and desire to write is from God and desires to use it to fulfill His purposes. Marlene lives in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania where she is a member of Bethel Deliverance International Church.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Set in the 1800s, Ruth's Redemption, is an unusual depiction of the lives of slaves and free blacks in pre-Civil War America. Bo, a main character, was educated while a slave. He was given his freedom and now owns a farm buying slaves for the sole purpose of giving them their freedom.

Bo is also a man of God and widower whose life is destined to change when he meets the proud and hard-hearted slave girl, Ruth. Ruth has known nothing but servitude and brutality since being separated from her mother at age thirteen. Purchased and sold primarily for breeding, Ruth struggles to adjust to life outside of bondage. She wants no part of Bo's Godly devotion. Yet Bo is unlike any man she's known and her experiences with him will leave her forever changed.

A gripping slave era novel, Ruth's Redemption is a story of love, forgiveness, and redemption. Set against the backdrop of the Nat Turner Rebellion in Tidewater, Virginia, this novel shines the light of God's unconditional love in the darkness of a culture's cruel socially accepted inhumanity.

If you would like to read the first chapter of Ruth's Redemption, go HERE.

Shadow of Your Smile - Susan May Warren

2012-01-26T08:00:00.002-07:00

About the book: The Shadow of Your Smile

A beautiful blanket of snow may cover the quaint town of Deep Haven each winter, but it can’t quite hide the wreckage of Noelle and Eli Hueston’s marriage.
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After twenty-five years, they’re contemplating divorce . . . just as soon as their youngest son graduates from high school. But then an accident erases part of Noelle's memory. Though her other injuries are minor, she doesn’t remember Eli, their children, or the tragedy that has ripped their family apart. What’s more, Noelle is shocked that her life has turned out nothing like she dreamed it whttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifould. As she tries to regain her memory and slowly steps into her role as a wife and mother, Eli helps her readjust to daily life with sometimes-hilarious, sometimes-heartwarming results. But can she fall in love again with a man she can’t remember?

Will their secrets destroy them . . . or has erasing the past given them a chance for a future? Read the story behind the story here: http://www.susanmaywarren.com/books/the-shadow-of-your-smile.

Link to buy the book: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1414334834/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=sprightly-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=1414334834

About Susan: Susan May Warren is an award-winning, best-selling author of over twenty-five novels, many of which have won the Inspirational Readers Choice Award, the ACFW Book of the Year award, the Rita Award, and have been Christy finalists. After serving as a missionary for eight years in Russia, Susan returned home to a small town on Minnesota’s beautiful Lake Superior shore where she, her four children, and her husband are active in their local church.

Susan's larger than life characters and layered plots have won her acclaim withhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif 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 ofwww.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.

Come Back to Deep Haven and Win a $200 Visa Card from @SusanMayWarren!

Sometimes love requires a little forgetting ... Come back to Deep Haven and find out what's been happening in your favorite quaint hamlet. If you're new to the Deep Haven series - this is the perfect book to start with - each book in the series is a stand alone story.

Susan is celebrating the release of The Shadow of Your Smile by giving away a prize pack worth over $200 from 1/9-1/28.

One grand prize winner will receive:

A $200 Visa Gift Card (Use that to rekindle a little romance, treat yourself to a spa day, snap up those shoes you’ve been eyeing, or purchase a few great books!)

The entire set of Deep Haven Books

The winner will be announced on 1/30/12 on Susan’s blog, Scribbles! Just click one of the icons below to enter and tell your friends about Susan's giveaway on FACEBOOK or TWITTER and increase your chances of winning.

You can catch the other bloggers on tour here http://litfusegroup.com/blogtours/text/13448479

My Thoughts: Noelle and Eli have suffered a devastating loss, one parents should never have to go through, the loss of a child. Eli is a police officer and feels responsible for the death of his daughter and so he has chosen to spend his time fishing, "helping" a female friend whose husband was killed the same night his daughter was killed. Everything comes to a head when Noelle goes into the city and on the way home is involved in a burglary at a coffee shop. She is severely injured and looses 20 years of her life.
This book wrapped itself around my heart and didn't let go. These characters became apart of me, and I hurt for them and with them. As the pieces come together Eli and Noelle find healing, and it was a beautiful thing to see. Highly recommended!

Love Blooms In Winter - Giveaway

2012-01-25T13:47:00.002-07:00

This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing Love Blooms in Winter Harvest House Publishers (January 1, 2012) by Lori Copeland

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Lori lives in the beautiful Ozarks with her husband Lance. Lance and Lori have three sons, three daughter-in-laws, and six wonderful grandchildren, and two great-granddaughters. Lance and Lori are very involved in their church, and active in supporting mission work in Mali, West Africa.

Lori began her writing career in 1982, writing for the secular book market. In 1995, after many years of writing, Lori sensed that God was calling her to use her gift of writing to honor Him. It was at that time that Lori began writing for the Christian book market. To date, she has had over 100 books published.

ABOUT THE BOOK

A romantic new book from bestselling author Lori Copeland that portrays God’s miraculous provision even when none seems possible.

1892—Mae Wilkey’s sweet next-door neighbor, Pauline, is suffering from old age and dementia and desperately needs family to come help her. But Pauline can’t recall having kin remaining. Mae searches through her desk and finds a name—Tom Curtis, who may just be the answer to their prayers.

Tom can’t remember an old aunt named Pauline, but if she thinks he’s a long-lost nephew, he very well may be. After two desperate letters from Mae, he decides to pay a visit. An engagement, a runaway train, and a town of quirky, loveable people make for more of an adventure than Tom is expecting. But it is amazing what can bloom in winter when God is in charge of things.

If you would like to read the first chapter of Love Blooms in Winter, go HERE.

I have an extra copy of this book to giveaway. To enter you must be a follower of my blog, must say so, and must leave an email address in their comment or it will be deleted. To receive extra entries you can tweet about this giveaway and come back and leave the link in a comment. You can blog about this giveaway and come back leave the link in the comment. This giveaway will start today, Wednesday 1/25/12 and I will pull a winner on Wednesday, February 8th. The winner will have 48 hours to give me their address after I contact them.

Where Wildflowers Bloom

2012-01-25T13:25:00.003-07:00

Book Blurb:
The War Between the States stole a father and brother from Faith Lindberg-- as well as Royal Baxter, the man she wanted to marry. With only her grandfather left, she dreams of leaving Noble Springs, Missouri, and traveling west to the Oregon Territory to start a new life, away from the memories that haunt her. But first she must convince her grandfather to sell the family's mercantile and leave a town their family has called home for generations.

When Royal Baxter suddenly returns to town, Faith allows herself to hope that her dreams might come true. Does he truly love her? Or could another man claim her heart? Will she find that following her dreams may not mean leaving home after all?

The characters in Where Wildflowers Bloom jump off the page and into the reader's heart. Author Ann Shorey infuses her characters with the virtues and quirks that bring them fully alive as they search for contentment and love.

My Thoughts: Faith's grandfather has asked her to take over the mercantile so he can write his memoir for the future generation. He goes to deliver dishes to a customer and falls. Faith will need help to get him home and she enlists help from a man who has just come into town and is working at the livery, Curt Saxon. He is happy to help her. His sister was a nurse during the Civil War and Faith approaches her about watching her grandfather during the day while she works at the mercantile. She refuses as she feels her volunteering as a nurse was not what she should've been doing. Faith talks to her grandfather about moving to Oregon which he does not want to do.
I was pleasantly surprised by this book.

Denise Hunter - The Accidental Bride - Interview

2012-01-24T15:44:00.003-07:00

Author Denise Hunter explores the flaw in seeking favor with others

Do the opinions of those around us really matter? Should we live our lives based on what others might think? In her latest release, The Accidental Bride (Thomas Nelson), award-winning author Denise Hunter explores these questions as she deftly leads her readers to discover the One whose favor should always be sought. Skillfully creating a love story that beautifully reflects God’s grace, Hunter uses the pages of The Accidental Bride to bring to light preoccupation with caring what others think. Using complex characters, an enticing backdrop and an almost palpable range of emotion and conflict, Hunter draws her readers to a new awareness of how much more simple life becomes when we aim to please God instead of man.

In the interview below, Denise Hunter shares more about her latest release.

Q: In The Accidental Bride, your main character, Shay is continually concerned with what others might think. Worrying about the opinions of others is a common malady in today’s society. What made you decide to write about it?

As you say, it’s so common to be worried about what others think of us. I love that quote by Eleanor Roosevelt, “You wouldn't worry so much about what others think of you if you realized how seldom they do.” So true! Shay needed to realize that it’s God’s opinion that really matters. When we focus on pleasing people, we tend to make poor decisions.

Q: This isn’t your first novel based on the cowboy lifestyle. What drew you to this particular lifestyle as the backdrop for your writing?

I’m drawn to the rugged appeal of the cowboy lifestyle. Even though I live in a city, I’m a country girl at heart, and I especially love the mountains; that’s why I was drawn to Montana for this series. There’s something simple and beautiful about living off the land that I think appeals to readers right now. Things are tough for so many people—and though the cowboy lifestyle is a hard one—it’s also very organic, a back to our roots kind of thing.

Q: The premise of The Accidental Bride is both interesting and unique. What inspired your decision to involve your hero and heroine in an “accidental” marriage?

I was watching a TV movie in which the actors were getting married, and I wondered, “What if the actor playing the preacher was an ordained minister? Would the couple be legally married?” Turns out, it’s not quite that simple to become accidentally married. There’s the matter of a marriage license that the pastor has to sign and mail to the proper government agency. So the good news is, it’s not likely to happen to you or anyone you know. But it sure was fun instigating such an event in a novel!

Q: Before she could forgive him, Travis had to rebuild Shay’s trust. Is this a necessary step, or do you believe we should forgive even those who may never be trustworthy again?

Trust and forgiveness are two different things. Forgiveness is something God commands us to do—regardless of circumstances like whether or not the offender is apologetic or has changed, etc.

Trust is different; it’s earned. And unfortunately, it takes a long time to build trust and only one bad decision to wreck it. We forgive the offender, but if he or she doesn’t change, we aren’t required to trust the person again. It’s the offender’s responsibility—if he or she wants to be trusted again—to earn back that trust.

Q: As an award-winning romance novelist you are, no-doubt, a role model for many would-be writers. What advice would you give to those who dream of one day being published? What’s an absolute must for a great romance?

First of all, I recommend aspiring writers to study and practice. Writing is a craft to be honed, and no matter how much natural talent you have, it takes both of those things to become a good writer.
Also, write the book you want to read. If you want to read that kind of book, there will be others who want to read it too.
Study the market, not so that you can jump on every trend, but so that you know how your story fits into the market.
Join a writers group so you can meet other writers—iron sharpens iron.
Once you have a marketable manuscript, go to conferences. The American Christian Writers Conference is the best out there in my opinion (www.acfw.com). At conferences, you will learn from some of the best in the industry and get a chance to pitch your work to agents and editors.
E-publishing is becoming huge, but don’t put a sub-par manuscript out there where it will only flounder. Hone the craft, write the best story you can, and learn to re-write. Then hire an editor. Every published author has one for a reason!
Getting published can be a long, uphill climb, but persistence pays off.

Chasing Mona Lisa Giveaway

2012-01-24T11:39:00.001-07:00

Win an iTouch SPY Pack in the Chasing Mona Lisa Giveaway from @triciagoyer @mikeyorkey!

Chasing Mona Lisa is the continuing tale of Gabi Mueller and Eric Hofstadler (first introduced in The Swiss Courier). This time the due are on a relentless quest to save the most famous painting in the world - the Mona Lisa. You can help Gabi and Eric with your very own spy pack when you enter The Chasing Mona Lisa Giveaway!

One passionate protector will receive:

iTouch (The must-have device for any spy. Camera, Maps & Music.)

Starbucks Gift Card (For all those late nights.)

Moleskin Notebook (For those important notes.)

Invisible Ink Pen (Don’t want anyone reading those important notes.)

Chasing Mona Lisa by Tricia Goyer & Mike Yorkey (Great handbook and intriguing tale for any spy-in-training!)

Enter today by clicking one of the icons below. But hurry, the giveaway ends at noon on January 31st. The winner will be announced at the Chasing

Enter 1/16 - 1/31. RSVP for Party today!

Firethorn

2012-01-23T11:24:00.002-07:00

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:

Ronie Kendig

and the book:

Firethorn, Discarded Heroes #4

Barbour Books; Discarded Heroes edition (2012)

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

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

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

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

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

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

Finalist in Christian Retailing’s 2011 Readers’ Choice Awards (Nightshade)

RWA’s Faith, Hope, & Love’s 2011 Inspirational Readers’ Choice Awards in Romantic Suspense (Nightshade)

Named one of the Top 25 Christian Fiction Suspense, Mystery, and Thriller Writers by FamilyFiction (Sept 2011)

2011 FamilyFiction Readers’ Choice Awards – 3^rd place as New Favorite Author, 8^th place with Nightshade for Novel of the Year.

INSPY Award Shortlist final in Mystery/Thriller (Dead Reckoning)

The Christian Manifesto’s 2010 Lime Award for Excellence in Christian Fiction (Nightshade)

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

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

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

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

love begins to awaken in their hearts.

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

Product Details:

List Price: $12.99

Paperback: 352 pages

Publisher: Barbour Books; Discarded Heroes edition (2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1602607850

ISBN-13: 978-1602607859

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

To all American military heroes

At home and abroad,

Those who have gone before

and those serving today—

THANK YOU!

Because of you, we are FREE!

RECON CREED

Realizing it is my choice and my choice alone to be a Reconnaissance Marine, I accept all challenges involved with this profession. Forever shall I strive to maintain the tremendous reputation of those who went before me.

Exceeding beyond the limitations set down by others shall be my goal. Sacrificing personal comforts and dedicating myself to the completion of the reconnaissance mission shall be my life. Physical fitness, mental attitude, and high ethics—The title of Recon Marine is my honor.

Conquering all obstacles, both large and small, I shall never quit. To quit, to surrender, to give up is to fail. To be a Recon Marine is to surpass failure; To overcome, to adapt and to do whatever it takes to complete the mission.

On the battlefield, as in all areas of life, I shall stand tall above the competition. Through professional pride, integrity, and teamwork, I shall be the example for all Marines to emulate.

Never shall I forget the principles I accepted to become a Recon Marine. Honor, Perseverance, Spirit, and Heart.

A Recon Marine can speak without saying a word and achieve what others can only imagine.

Swift, Silent, Deadly

Chapter 1

The Shack

“It’s sad, really.” Marshall “The Kid” Vaughn trudged away from the thumping rotors of the helo that had deposited them back at the Shack, his pack almost dragging the ground. “Ya don’t realize how much a person adds until he’s gone.”

“Legend’s not gone.” Max “Frogman” Jacobs hoisted his rucksack into a better group, his mind locked on Sydney and their two sons waiting for him at home. Poor woman had to be going out of her mind with two of his Mini-Me’s running around.

“Yeah.” John “Squirt” Dighton hit the light breaker, then waited for the six-man team to clear the door. “He’s just temporarily detained.”

Lights sizzled and popped to life. Groaning bounced off the grimy windows as he hauled the door closed, locked it, then started toward the showers.

The Kid grunted. “Forty-years-to-life temporary.”

In the locker room, a depressive gloom hung over the team. They’d been on countless missions, hit just about every terrain and environment imaginable, but none had taken the toll the last couple had. And there was one reason—they were down a man. Griffin “Legend” Riddell. If Max could write the playbook, they wouldn’t do another mission without the guy. But with the man in federal prison for murdering a congressman, it’d be a long wait.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Max looked around the Spartan room. Walls of lockers, most unused. A few benches. A giant once-white bin for dirty duds. And the team. Six men, now. All very skilled. Good men. Even the one missing. Every man here knew Legend had been set up—he didn’t murder that congressman. But nobody could prove it. The evidence was damning. Justice—injustice was more like it—came swiftly. Lambert, ever the puppeteer, couldn’t pull the right strings to get Legend off.

“I’m heading up to visit him tomorrow. Anyone game?” Colton “Cowboy” Neeley slumped on a bench and ran a hand over his short, dark hair. His blue eyes probed the group.

“Nah, man. I’ve got a date,” the Kid said.

Squirt beaned him with a towel. “What girl would go out with you, mate?”

The Kid snapped the terry cloth back at the former Navy SEAL. “Your sister.”

Squirt froze. His jaw went slack. Then his eyes darkened.

Laughing, Canyon “Midas” Metcalfe rose to his feet from the corner. “You just proved his point by thinking your sister would actually go out with him.”

Squirt swallowed, his face drained of color. “I introduced them at a New Year’s party.”

Midas laughed harder. “Your mistake, mate.”

Shuffling closer, Squirt pointed a finger at the Kid. “I swear, you touch her, I’ll shove a fist full of witchety grubs down your gullet.”

“Give me credit, dude.” The Kid raised his hands. “I’m a gentleman.”

Max grunted. “Right.” As he strode around the lockers to the shower well, he heard more threats and much more laughter from the Kid. Max shook his head. Would the Kid ever grow up, learn when to leave things alone?

As he tossed his oily, grimy duds on the bench, Max paused, thinking maybe he should send his report to Lambert now so he wouldn’t have to mess with it tomorrow. The mission had been simple enough, a snatch-n-grab of an Iranian doctor. It’d been nice and clean, in and out. The report wouldn’t take long. Then he could shower, bug out, and know he had the whole weekend with Syd and the boys.

Max jogged up the iron stairs, which creaked and groaned beneath his weight. Down the hall to the right. He punched in the code and entered the secure hub, the door hissing shut behind him. The most high-tech part of this dump-of-a-warehouse.

Shouts drew his attention to the blinds. He jabbed two fingers between a couple and spread them to peeked down into the main area. Squirt and the Kid raced into the bay and back the way they came. Squirt looked ready to kill. The Kid’s face revealed his fear. Max shook his head again. Man, he wanted Griffin back. The guy seemed to bring balance to the team. Badly needed balance.

Max powered up the computer. Hand propped on the warped wood, he waited for the system to boot.

More shouts. Loud thuds.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Would they never—?

Tat-a-tat! Tat-tat-a-tat!

Instinct drove Max to his knee at the sound of gunfire. He scrambled to the window. Through the slanted blinds, he peered down into the slab of cement. His brain wouldn’t assemble what he saw. Gunmen. A dozen or more. Rushing into the Shack from the parking bay. Moving swiftly, as if. . .

They know the layout.

Max darted to the door and jerked it open. He sprinted down the hall toward the stairs. As his boot hit steel, he froze. A shadow emerged. Floated into the hall.

Too late.

Max jerked back. Pressed his spine against the wall.

By the showers, the Kid looked up. Max signaled to him. Then made his best and loudest Nightshade whistle, hoping it would penetrate the building, give the men warning to take cover.

The Kid threw himself back into the locker room.

Men swarmed the corner. One looked to his left, one right. His weapon slowly rose as he traced the stairs with his M16.

Max leapt backward into the darkness and into office. He closed the door. As the lock clicked, darkness dropped like an anchor over the entire building. Behind him, a glow screamed his location. The monitor!

Max spun. Lunged across the desk. Stabbed the power button. And paused with his hand still near the monitor. If someone was coming after them. . .accessing this computer. . .

On his knees, Max yanked the cords free. With the box, he moved to the window and reassessed the parking bay. Another van with a half-dozen men with AK-47s. They streamed into the warehouse.

Max’s gut wound into a dozen knots. They were screwed.

Think! Hand on the door, he considered going back downstairs. But that would get him captured. Killed. Yet he’d rather be with his guys than running like a chicken.

No, not running. Considering options, gaining the advantage. Planning. The invasion force was armed to the teeth. They knew who they were coming after. They’d brought weapons. And those guys moved with precision. Swift, deadly precision.

Though Nightshade had a stellar ops record, perhaps they had finally met their match. Still. . .two to one? Nightshade had faced worse.

A large black Suburban screeched to a halt in the middle of the parking bay. Two men emerged, both wearing trench coats.

Max cursed his luck to be up here, away from his gear, his weapons. Up here, without firepower. Thus, powerless.

Okay, enough. He was going down there. He eased the door open and slid across the hall. Bathed in darkness, he crouched at edge of the landing, using the wall for cover. A dozen men so far, rushing here and there. Quick, quiet chatter between the men.

A smirk slid into Max’s face. His team had taken cover and these goons couldn’t find them. If he could just get a weapon. . .

“Can’t find them.”

“They’re here. I saw them go in,” the man nearest the SUV shouted. “Find them! Lights!”

Light rushed through the building as headlamps from the vehicles stabbed the dusty, damp building. Max yanked back, out of sight. He needed to get down there, defend his men. His boot hit the landing.

Shouts erupted. A shot bounced off the steel rafters, taunting as it echoed through the Shack. Stilled, Max waited. More shouts. The sound of a scuffle. The half-dozen men waiting by the SUV lifted their weapons to the ready.

The locker room door swung open. A man walked backward, his AK-47 aimed at a large form filling the doorway. Cowboy. Arms raised, dressed only in his jeans, he stalked forward. Someone shoved him from behind, which barely moved the big lug.

Spine pressed against the wood, Max peered down into the bay.

“You move one wrong muscle,” the one in front of Cowboy growled, “and so help me God, I’ll kill you.”

“No you won’t.” Cowboy lowered his hands. “If you wanted me dead, I wouldn’t be out here.”

Ride ’em, Cowboy.

From the side entrance to the showers, three men dragged a shouting, cursing Kid into the bay. Max smirked that it took three tangos to wrangle the Kid.

Hand clenched, Max’s mind went into overdrive. What could he do? God. . .I need. . .something. What could he pray for? Intercepting the team was impossible. Twelve, fifteen armed tangos against one unarmed man?

He latched on to the hope that they’d only found Cowboy and the Kid. No Midas, Squirt, or Aladdin. Good. Maybe they could regroup and—

A man flew through the bay door from the showers and landed with a thud a yard from the others. Midas flipped over, scissored his legs, and swept the thug off his feet. The Kid seized the confusion to attack the men guarding him. And impressively. With a hard right, he dropped the first and used that weapon to disable the second.

Cowboy took a step back and rammed his elbow into the gut of the nearest guard. The gunman bent forward—straight into Cowboy’s meaty fist. The big guy pivoted, slapped the interior of the gunman’s wrist, effectively seizing the weapon and flipping the muzzle around. He fired at the guy.

Crack!

In the split second it took for Max to realize the sonic boom that rent the air wasn’t the report of Cowboy’s .45 MEU but of a rifle, Max saw the man in the black trench coat drop to the ground. A circle spread out like a dark halo.

“Sniper!” someone shouted.

The dead guy had fallen backward. Most likely shot from the front. Which meant. . . Max’s gaze rose to the rafters. With no light, it’d be the perfect hiding spot. But. . .who? Squirt? Aladdin?

Crack!

The man guarding Colton stumbled forward, then went to his knees before hitting the cement.

The man in the black trench coat nearest the SUV dropped. A pool of blood spilled out.

“There!” One guard swung and fired his fully automatic at the ceiling. Four others followed suit, firing at the bank of grimy windows on the southeast wall of the building.

Max followed their direction and watched. Waited, his breath caught at the back of his throat. Cracks and shattering glass blended with the staccato punches of the guns to create a wild cacophony of noise. Max tuned it out, praying whoever—Aladdin or Squirt—wouldn’t be hit.

But then he saw it. A shift of a shadow. Like someone rolling. . .

The gunfire petered out as a body plummeted the eight feet to the ground.

The thud seemed to have supernatural powers as it pounded Max’s chest and pushed him back. Away from the window but not far enough that he lost line of sight.

Silence dropped on the Shack.

“Where’s Max Jacobs?”

As the question streaked through the warehouse, Max registered a red glow in the far corner. Even as he noticed it, he heard a beep. Another. His gaze darted to the source of the noise. Two men were walking the perimeter, their M16s dangling as they raised their arms and pressed something against the supports. Arms lowered and the men stepped back revealing gray bricks with wires.

Explosives.

Gotta stop this. Do something. His gaze collided with Cowboy’s. The big lug gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

Max’s nostrils flared as he wrestled with what to do.

“Where’s Dighton?”

How do they know our names?

“Dead,” someone answered.

Pulled back into the shadows, Max clenched his eyes and bit down on his tongue. Dighton was dead. What about Aladdin—had he survived the fall?

Sirens wailed in the distance.

“Load ’em up.”

“What about Jacobs?”

“Outta time.” The leader left as the gunmen dragged the team out of the building.

Stealthily, Max held on to the box and sprinted the length of the hall to the side of the Shack. In the conference room, he plunged toward the window. Craned his neck to peek out. Three vehicles—twin white vans and a black town car.

The guys were loaded into the van and one into the car.

The leader shifted, held something out, then it wavered.

Detonator.

Max spun around, searching for an out. Doors. Only one way down—the stairs. But they led to the bay, which would be engulfed.

Windows. Overlooked the dock. The canal. It was January. The water would be brutal cold. His split-second assessment told him no matter what route he took, it’d be deadly. Despite his training, if he didn’t find shelter out of the water once he broke surface, he’d die an ice cube. If he stayed, he’d die a fireball.

Good thing SEALs are insulated against cold water.

Max vaulted toward the window, hurtling the computer through the window. The glass shattered as a violent force blasted through the air. It lifted him. Up. . .up. . . Flipped him. Searing pain sliced through his arm. Heat stroked his back and legs. Fire chased him out of the building. Into the night.

Boom!

Another wave slammed into him. Threw him backward. Toward the water.

Something punched his gut. Knocked the breath from his lungs.

Bright white lit the night. Blinded him. Then—almost instantaneously—black. Pure black. And he was falling. . .down. . .down. . .

Ro n i e K e n d i g

Firethorn

Discarded Heroes # 4

OTHER BOOKS BY RONIE KENDIG

Nightshade (Discarded Heroes #1)

Digitalis (Discarded Heroes #2)

Wolfsbane (Discarded Heroes #3)

© 2011 by Ronie Kendig

ISBN 978-1-60260-0785-9

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

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

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

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

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

www.barbourbooks.com

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

Printed in the United States of America.

My Thoughts: Ronie has penned a book that will keep you up late reading. Griffen gets set up and finds himself in maximum security prison for sticking up for his wife. It's something right out of a movie. Then the unit is ambushed and the book just rock n' rolls from there. I love these characters and the way Ronie pulls you into the story. I highly recommend this read!

Love Blooms In Winter

2012-01-19T14:07:00.001-07:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Lori Copeland

and the book:

Love Blooms in Winter (The Dakota Diaries)

Harvest House Publishers (January 1, 2012)

***Special thanks to
Karri | Marketing Assistant |Harvest House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Lori Copeland is the author of more than 90 titles, both historical and contemporary fiction. With more than 3 million copies of her books in print, she has developed a loyal following among her rapidly growing fans in the inspirational market. She has been honored with the Romantic Times Reviewer's Choice Award, The Holt Medallion, and Walden Books' Best Seller award. In 2000, Lori was inducted into the Missouri Writers Hall of Fame. She lives in the beautiful Ozarks with her husband, Lance, and their three children and five grandchildren.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

This new romance from bestselling author Lori Copeland portrays God’s miraculous provision when none seems possible. An engagement, a runaway train, and a town of quirky, loveable people make for more adventure than Tom Curtis is expecting. But it is amazing what can bloom in winter with God in charge.

1892—Mae Wilkey’s sweet next-door neighbor, Pauline, is suffering from old age and dementia and desperately needs family to come help her. But Pauline can’t recall having kin remaining. Mae searches through her desk and finds a name—Tom Curtis, who may just be the answer to their prayers.

Tom can’t remember an old aunt named Pauline, but if she thinks he’s a long-lost nephew, he very well may be. After two desperate letters from Mae, he decides to pay a visit. An engagement, a runaway train, and a town of quirky, loveable people make for more of an adventure than Tom is expecting. But it is amazing what can bloom in winter when God is in charge of things.

Product Details:

List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 304 pages

Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (January 1, 2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 0736930191

ISBN-13: 978-0736930192

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Dwadlo, North Dakota, 1892

The winter of ’92 is gonna go down as one of the worst Dwadlo’s ever seen,” Hal Murphy grumbled as he dumped the sack of flour he got for his wife on the store counter. “Mark my words.” He turned toward Mae Wilkey, the petite postmistress, who was stuffing mail in wooden slots.

“Spring can’t come soon enough for me.” She stepped back, straightening the row of letters and flyers. She didn’t have to record Hal’s prediction; it was the same every year. “I’d rather plant flowers than shovel snow any day of the week.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hal nodded to the store owner, Dale Smith, who stood five foot seven inches with a rounded belly and salt-and-pepper hair swept to a wide front bang. “Add a couple of those dill pickles, will you?” Hal watched as Dale went over to the barrel and fished around inside, coming up with two fat pickles.

“That’ll fix me up.” Hal turned his attention back to the mail cage, his eyes fixed on the lovely sight. “Can’t understand why you’re still single, Mae. You’re as pretty as a raindrop on a lily pad.” He sniffed the air. “And you smell as good.”

Smiling, Mae moved from the letter boxes to the cash box. Icy weather may have delayed the train this morning, but she still had to count money and record the day’s inventory. “Now, Hal, you know I’d marry you in a wink if you weren’t already taken.” Hal and Clara had been married forty-two years, but Mae’s usual comeback never failed to put a sparkle in the farmer’s eye. Truth be, she put a smile on every man’s face, but she wasn’t often aware of the flattering looks she received. Her heart belonged to Jake Mallory, Dwadlo’s up-and-coming attorney.

Hal nodded. “I know. All the good ones are taken, aren’t they?”

She nodded. “Every single one. Especially in Dwadlo.”

The little prairie town was formed when the Chicago & North Western Railroad came through five years ago. Where abundant grass, wild flowers, and waterfalls had once flourished, hundreds of miles of steel rail crisscrossed the land, making way for big, black steam engines that hauled folks and supplies. Before the railroad came through, only three homesteads had dotted the rugged Dakota Territory: Mae’s family’s, Hal and Clara’s, and Pauline Wilson’s.

But in ’87 life changed, and formerly platted sites became bustling towns. Pine Grove and Branch Springs followed, and Dwadlo suddenly thrived with immigrants, opportunists, and adventure-seeking folks staking claims out West. A new world opened when the Dakota Boom started.

Hal’s gaze focused on Mae’s left hand. “Jake still hasn’t popped the question?”

Mae sighed. Hal was a pleasant sort, but she really wished the townspeople would occupy their thoughts with something other than her and Jake’s pending engagement. True, they had been courting for six years and Jake still hadn’t proposed, but she was confident he would. He’d said so, and he was a man of his word—though every holiday, when a ring would have been an appropriate gift, that special token of his intentions failed to materialize. Mae had more lockets than any one woman could wear, but Jake apparently thought that she could always use another one. What she could really use was his hand in marriage. The bloom was swiftly fading from her youth, and it would be nice if her younger brother, Jeremy, had a man’s presence in his life.

“Be patient, Hal. He’s busy trying to establish a business.”

“Good lands. How long does it take a man to open a law office?”

“Apparently six years and counting.” She didn’t like the uncertainty but she understood it, even if the town’s population didn’t. She had a good life, what with work, church, and the occasional social. Jake accompanied her to all public events, came over two or three times a week, and never failed to extend a hand when she needed something. It was almost as though they were already married.

“The man’s a fool,” Hal declared. “He’d better slap a ring on that finger before someone else comes along and does it for him.”

“Not likely in Dwadlo,” Mae mused. The town itself was made up of less than a hundred residents, but other folks lived in the surrounding areas and did their banking and shopping here. Main Street consisted of the General Store, Smith’s Grain and Feed, the livery, the mortuary, the town hall and jail (which was almost always empty), Doc Swede’s office, Rosie’s Café, and an empty building that had once housed the saloon. Mae hadn’t spotted a sign on any business yet advertising “Husbands,” but she was certain her patience would eventually win out.

With a final smile Hal moved off to pay for his goods. Mae hummed a little as she put the money box in the safe. Looking out the window, she noticed a stiff November wind snapping the red canvas awning that sheltered the store’s porch. Across the square, a large gazebo absorbed the battering wind. The usually active gathering place was now empty under a gray sky. On summer nights music played, and the smell of popcorn and roasted peanuts filled the air. Today the structure looked as though it were bracing for another winter storm. Sighing, Mae realized she already longed for green grass, blooming flowers, and warm breezes.

After Hal left Mae finished up the last of the chores and then reached for her warm wool cape. She usually enjoyed the short walk home from work, but today she was tired—and her feet hurt because of the new boots she’d purchased from the Montgomery Ward catalog. On the page they had looked comfortable with their high tops and polished leather, but on her feet they felt like a vise.

Slipping the cape’s hood over her hair, she said goodbye to Dale and then paused when her hand touched the doorknob. “Oh, dear. I really do need to check on Pauline again.”

“How’s she doing?” The store owner paused and leaned on his broom. “I noticed she hasn’t been in church recently.”

Dale always reminded Mae of an owl perching on a tree limb, his big, dark blue eyes swiveling here and there. He might not talk a body’s leg off, but he kept up on town issues. She admired the quiet little man for what he did for the community and respected the way he preached to the congregation on Sundays.

How was Pauline doing? Mae worried the question over in her mind. Pauline lived alone, and she shouldn’t. The elderly woman was Mae’s neighbor, and she checked on her daily, but Pauline was steadily losing ground.

“She’s getting more and more fragile, I’m afraid. Dale, have you ever heard Pauline speak of kin?”

The small man didn’t take even a moment to ponder the question. “Never heard her mention a single word about family of any kind.”

“Hmm…me neither. But surely she must have some.” Someone who should be here, in Dwadlo, looking after the frail soul. Mae didn’t resent the extra work, but the post office and her brother kept her busy, and she really didn’t have the right to make important decisions regarding the elderly woman’s rapidly failing health.

Striding back to the bread rack, she picked up a fresh loaf. Dale had private rooms at the back of the store where he made his home, and he was often up before dawn baking bread, pies, and cakes for the community. Most folks in town baked their own goods, but there were a few, widowers and such, who depended on Dale’s culinary skills. By this hour of the day the goods were usually gone, but a few remained. Placing a cherry pie in her basket as well, she called, “Add these things to my account, please, Dale. And pray for Pauline too.”

Nodding, he continued sweeping, methodically running the stiff broomcorn bristles across the warped wood floor.

The numbing wind hit Mae full force when she stepped off the porch. Her hood flew off her head and an icy gust of air snatched away her breath. Putting down her basket, she retied the hood before setting off for the brief walk home. Dwadlo was laid out in a rather strange pattern, a point everyone agreed on. Businesses and homes were built close together, partly as shelter from the howling prairie winds and partly because there wasn’t much forethought given to town planning. Residents’ homes sat not a hundred feet from the store. The whole community encompassed less than five acres.

Halfway to her house, snowflakes began swirling in the air. Huddling deeper into her wrap, Mae concentrated on the path as the flakes grew bigger.

She quickly covered the short distance to Pauline’s. The dwelling was little more than a front room, tiny kitchen, and bedroom, but she was a small woman. Pauline pinned her yellow-white hair in a tight knot at the base of her skull, and she didn’t have a tooth in her head. She chewed snuff, which she freely admitted was an awful habit, but Mae had never heard her speak of giving it up.

Her faded blue eyes were as round as buttons, and no matter what kind of day she was having, it was always a new one to her, filled with wonders. Her mind wasn’t what it used to be. She had good and bad days, but mostly days when her moods changed as swift as summer lightning. She could be talking about tomatoes in the garden patch when suddenly she would be discussing how to spin wool.

Mae noted a soft wisp of smoke curling up from the chimney and smiled. Pauline had remembered to feed the fire this afternoon, so this was a good day.

Unlatching the gate, she followed the path to the front porch. In summertime the white railings hung heavy with red roses, and the scent of honeysuckle filled the air. This afternoon the wind howled across the barren flower beds Pauline carefully nurtured during warmer weather. Often she planted okra where petunias should be, but she enjoyed puttering in the soil and the earth loved her. She brought fresh tomatoes, corn, and beans to the store during spring and summer, and pumpkins and squash lined the railings in the fall.

In earlier days Pauline’s quilts were known throughout the area. She and her quilting group had made quite a name for themselves when Dwadlo first became a town. Four women excelled in the craft. One had lived in Pine Grove, and two others came from as far away as Branch Springs once a month to break bread together and stitch quilts. But one by one the women had died off, leaving Pauline to sew alone in her narrowing world.

Stomping her boots on the porch, Mae said under her breath, “I don’t mind winter, Lord, but could we perhaps have a little less of it?” The only answer was the wind whipping her garments. Tapping lightly on the door, she called, “Pauline?”

Mae stepped back and waited to hear the shuffle of feet. Pauline used to answer the door in less than twenty seconds. It took longer now. Mae made a fist with her gloved hand and banged a little harder. The wind howled around the cottage eaves. She closed her eyes and prayed that Jeremy had remembered to stack sufficient firewood beside the kitchen door. The boy was generally responsible, and she thanked God every day that she had him to lean on. He had been injured by forceps during birth, which left him with special needs. He was a very happy fourteen-year-old with the reasoning power of a child of nine.

A full minute passed. Mae frowned and tried the doorknob. Pauline couldn’t hear herself yell in a churn, but she might also be asleep. The door opened easily, and Mae peeked inside the small living quarters. She saw that a fire burned low in the woodstove, and Pauline’s rocking chair sat empty.

Stepping inside, she closed the door and called again. “Pauline? It’s Mae!”

The ticking of the mantle clock was the only sound that met her ears.

“Pauline?” She lowered her hood and walked through the living room. She paused in the kitchen doorway.

“Oh, Pauline!”

The Mulligans of MT Jefferson - CFBA

2012-01-18T13:48:00.002-07:00

This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing The Mulligans of Mt Jefferson David C. Cook (January 1, 2012) by Don Reid

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Don is one of the original members of the STATLER BROTHERS, the most award-winning act in the history of country music. He and his brother and two friends began singing in their hometown of Staunton, Virginia when Don was only fourteen years old. Working all over their home and neighboring states as a part time group, they were discovered in 1964 by Johnny Cash and given their first record contract. By the time Don was 20 years old, the STATLERS had their first major, world-wide hit record with FLOWERS ON THE WALL, which started a string of hits that generated a career in the music industry that lasted for four decades. The STATLERS have been recipients of multiple industry awards:

It wasn’t until the STATLER BROTHERS decided to retire from traveling in 2002 that Don pursued his writing career to another level. Having songwriting and scriptwriting under his belt, the next obvious step was to write a book. And that book was the scripture based HEROES AND OUTLAWS OF THE BIBLE published in June of 2002 by New Leaf Press. He has since written two other non-fiction books and in 2008 saw another dream come true for Don when he released his first novel, O LITTLE TOWN. Novel number two came in the form of ONE LANE BRIDGE, and THE MULLIGANS OF MT. JEFFERSON, is a sequel to O LITTLE TOWN.

Don is the father of two sons. Debo and his wife, Julie, and daughters Sela Mae and Adra, live within a stone’s throw. You may have seen Debo’s name on many songs written with Don on albums over the years.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Cal, Harlan, and Buddy grow up together in a small Virginia town in the years before the second World War. United by age, proximity, and temperament, they get into—and out of—all the trouble that boys manage to find. They even earn a nickname from a local restaurateur who gives the boys their first jobs and plenty of friendly advice. “Uncle” Vic calls them the Mulligans, because they always seem to find a way through a thicket of trouble—family problems, girls, college, war—to success. Cal and Harlan and Buddy have been blessed with second chances.

Now it’s 1959, and police lieutenant Buddy receives an early-morning phone call: his friend Harlan, a store owner, has been shot in a break-in. Cal, now a preacher, meets Buddy at the hospital, and together, as professionals and as friends, they begin to unravel what might have happened to Harlan.

If you would like to read the first chapter of The Mulligans of Mt Jefferson, go HERE.

My Thoughts: I grew up listening to the Statler Brothers and when I saw that this was written by Don Reid one of the Original members of the Statler Brothers, I was super excited to read this book. I have just started it, and I am really enjoying it. It has a great hometown feel to it. The characters are real and Don is a great storyteller.

Sinners & Saints

2012-01-17T16:17:00.000-07:00

Today's Wild Card authors are:

Victoria Christopher Murray

and

ReShonda Tate Billingsley

(Chapters written by alternating author)

and the book:

Sinners and Saints

Touchstone; Original edition (January 10, 2012)

***Special thanks to Shida Carr of Simon & Schuster for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHORS:

Victoria Christopher Murray is the author of nine Essence bestselling novels, including The Ex Files, Too Little, Too Late, and Lady Jasmine. Winner of the African American Literary Award for Fiction and Author of the Year, she splits her time between Los Angeles and Washington, D.C.

Visit the author's website.

ReShonda Tate Billingsley is an award winning former television and radio reporter, as well as the author of twenty-one books which have appeared on the Essence bestseller list more than twenty times. She is married with three small children and lives in Texas.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

TEAM JASMINE or TEAM RACHEL?

Bestselling and award-winning novelists Victoria Christopher Murray and ReShonda Tate Billingsley bring their favorite heroines together in a novel that will delight their legions of fans.

Jasmine Larson Bush and Rachel Jackson Adams are not your typical first ladies. But they’ve overcome their scandalous and drama-filled pasts to stand firmly by their husbands’ sides.

When a coveted position opens up—president of the American Baptist Coalition— both women think their husbands are perfect for the job. And winning the position may require both women to get down and dirty and revert to their old tricks. Just when Jasmine and Rachel think they’re going to have to fight to the finish, the current first lady of the coalition steps in . . . a woman bigger, badder, and more devious than either of them.

Double the fun with a message of faith, Sinners & Saints will delight readers with two of their favorite characters from two of their favorite authors.

Product Details:

List Price: $15.00

Paperback: 288 pages

Publisher: Touchstone; Original edition (January 10, 2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1451608152

ISBN-13: 978-1451608151

AND NOW...THE FIRST TWO CHAPTERS:

Chapter One

How in the world was Jasmine going to keep her promise to God now?

Two years ago, she had promised Him that if He saved her daughter when she was kidnapped, if He brought her home safely, then she was going to live a life devoted just to Him. Jasmine had vowed that with Jacqueline’s return, she was going to live the life that God had for her as Hosea’s wife, as Jacqueline and Zaya’s mother. She wasn’t going to want for anything more than what God had given her, because surely, He had supplied her with enough.

God had done His part.

And for the last two years, Jasmine had done her part, too.

She’d lived a low-key life, thrilled that her greatest dramas were debates about fashion choices every morning with her seven-year old daughter.

But how was she supposed to keep her promise to God now? After what her husband had just told her?

“So, hold up,” Jasmine said, slipping into the chair across from Hosea. “I thought you were just going to the convention as the keynote speaker.”

Hosea nodded.

“So, explain this to me again.”

With a sigh, Hosea folded the newspaper he’d been reading and placed it on the table. He stuffed his mouth with a forkful of pancake, chewed for a moment, then said, “The call came in from a friend of Pop’s, Pastor Earl Griffith. He thinks I need to submit my resume.”

“To be the head of the American Baptist Coalition?”

Hosea nodded.

“But we’re not Baptist.”

His eyes danced with his amusement. “Get out of here.”

“You know what I mean,” Jasmine said, waving one hand. “I just don’t get it. Why would they call you?”

“They didn’t call me. Only Pastor Griffith.Seems like there’re a couple of men in the running, though according to Griffith, the front-runner is Pastor Adams, Lester Adams from the Southern region.”

Jasmine frowned. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“Out of Houston. But Pastor Griffith doesn’t think Adams is the man. Seems that the last four presidents have been from the South and Griffith and a couple of other pastors on the board think that the Coalition needs someone from the North, someone more progressive, to really move the organization forward.”

“And they think that can be you?”

“Not they, darlin’. I told you—Griffith called me.”

“But you said there were others who agreed with him.”

Hosea nodded. “Apparently, they don’t have anyone from the North who they think can go up against Adams. I guess they think my name could win this.”

“That makes sense to me.”

“It doesn’t matter how much sense it makes, darlin’. I told Pastor Griffith that I’m not interested.”

As if she didn’t hear any of Hosea’s last words, Jasmine whispered, “Wow.” Old thoughts, familiar desires came to her mind—of power and prestige and money. How much money would a president receive?

She didn’t know a lot about the American Baptist Coalition, but she knew enough. Like the fact that they were the largest African American religious organization, and wielded major political clout. And as much as black folks loved religion, the head of the ABC would have a boatload of power—and so would his wife.

Talk about being the first lady!

“Jasmine?”

I’d be the first lady of like . . . the world!

“Jasmine?”

“Huh?” Her eyes were glassy with images of her future and it took her a moment to focus on Hosea.

His admonishment came before he even said a word. It was in the way his eyes narrowed and the way he’d already begun shaking his head. “Don’t even think about it.”

“What?”

“You know what. I’m not gonna do it,” he said slowly, as if he was speaking to one of their children. “I’m gonna go to the convention and speak, just like they asked. But I’m not gonnarun for that office. The little I know about Lester Adams, he’s a good man. They’ll be fine with him.”

“How could he be the one if I’ve never even heard of him?”

“Like you know every pastor in the country.”

“I’m not talking about knowing every pastor. I’m thinking that Pastor Griffith is right. The head of the ABC should be someone who’s known and who can add to the Coalition. Think about what you bring as the pastor of one of the largest churches in the country. Then, there’s your show.” She nodded. “Pastor Griffith is right,” she repeated. “It has to be you.”

His head was still shaking. “No. I don’t want the drama.”

“Who said anything about drama?”

“Any type of election—political or religious—is always about drama.” He stood and placed his plate in the sink. “And then there’s you, my wonderful wife. As much as I love you, darlin’, anytime you’re involved in anything, drama makes its way into our lives. No, I don’t want any part of it.”

“So, you’re just gonna let this huge opportunity pass us—I mean, pass you by?”

“Yup, because it’s not an opportunity that interests me. The church, the show, and most importantly you and the children are enough for me.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Speaking of the church, I’m gonna get dressed and head over there. I have a meeting in a couple of hours.”

“Okay,” she said, dismissing him with words, though she’d already dismissed him in her mind. Jasmine stayed as Hosea left her alone in the kitchen.

You and the children are enough for me.

Until a few minutes ago, she would’ve agreed with her husband. But this conversation was a game changer.

Hosea was right—their lives were without drama, but it had gotten kind of boring. Every day it was the same thing—getting the children off to school, then working on the women’s committees at the church, then coming home to meet the children, then helping Mrs. Sloss with dinner, then . . . then . . .then . . .

Not that she had complaints; she loved her life, her family. But she would still love everyone, and maybe even a little bit more if Hosea were the head of the ABC .

Oh, no. She wasn’t going to sit back and let this opportunity pass Hosea. He needed this position, even if he didn’t know it.

Standing, she moved toward their bedroom, the conniving wheels of her brain already churning. She stood outside the door of their master bathroom, listening to her husband praise God, the spray of the shower, his accompanying music.

“I trust you, Lord!” He sang the words to one of Donnie McClurkin’s songs.

“Babe,” she said, interrupting his praise time. “I’m gonna run over to Mae Frances’s apartment, okay?”

“Don’t you have a meeting at the church?”

“Yeah, but it’s not till this afternoon and Mae Frances just called and she really needs me to help her with something.”Jasmine paused. It had been a long time since she’d manipulated the truth to get somethingshe wanted. But it wasn’t like she was going back to being a total liar again—she just needed to get this done and after Hosea was in his rightful place, she’d go back to being on the side of righteousness.

“Oh, okay. Is Nama all right?” he asked, referring to Mae Frances by the name their children called the older woman.

“She’s fine. You know Nama. I’ll call Mrs. Whittingham and tell her that I may be a little late for my meeting.”

By the time they said their good-byes and Jasmine grabbed her purse, she already had a plan. But she’d need some help, and Mae Frances, her friend who knew everyone from Al Sharpton to Al Capone and his offspring, was just the person to help her.

“Sorry, Pastor Adams,” she said to herself as she rode down in the elevator. “Whoever you are, you can be the president of the ABC once Hosea and I are done—in, say, ten or twenty years.”

She stepped outside of their Central Park South apartmentbuilding and into the New York springtime sun. Slapping on herdesigner glasses, she laughed out loud.

Oh, yeah, today was gonna be a really good day.

Chapter Two

Watch out, Michelle Obama!

Rachel Jackson Adams smiled in satisfaction as shesurveyed her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She’d had toleave the prestigious American Baptist Coalition regional dinnerand step inside the restroom to compose herself. After all, shewas about to be the first lady of one of the most prestigiousorganizations in the country. She couldn’t very well be actinga plumb fool because she was overcome with excitement.But Rachel had wanted to do a backflip, front flip, toe touch,cartwheel, and anything else she could think of to express herjoy.

Rachel fluffed her honey brown curls, then lightly refreshedher MAC Oh Baby lip gloss. She had come such a long way. Hermother was probably dancing in her grave at the sight of Rachelas not only a first lady, but a soon-to-be prominent one at that.Rachel had worked hard to garner the respect of the parishionersat Zion Hill Missionary Baptist Church. She’d grown up inthat church, so everyone knew her dirt—all of it—and it hadtaken God himself to get these people to respect her. And whileZion Hill had grown tremendously, it still wasn’t considereda megachurch, and outside of Houston there were few whohad even heard of it. As the first lady of the American BaptistCoalition, her status would go to a whole new level. Shoot, if shehad to be first lady, she might as well be the top first lady.

Rachel savored the thought as she dropped her lip gloss backinto her clutch and stepped back into the corridor.

“I was beginning to think you’d fallen in,” her husband ofeight years said before leaning in and lightly kissing Rachel onthe cheek.

Lester Adams wasn’t her true love—that title belonged toher thirteen-year-old son’s father, Bobby Clark. But Lester wasgood for her. Her love for Lester was that agape love they talkedabout in First Corinthians. It brought out the best in her. Well,for the most part anyway. Life with Bobby had been filled withdrama—Rachel admitted much of that was her own doing, but itwas drama-filled nonetheless. And although Bobby still remaineda part of Jordan’s life, Rachel had finally gotten him out of hersystem and was focusing all of her attention on making hermarriage work.

“What took you so long?” Lester asked, snapping Rachel outof her thoughts.

“Sorry,” Rachel said with a slight smile, “but you know I’mabout to be the preeminent first lady, so I had to make sure mymakeup was on point.” She tossed her hair back. “Come to thinkof it, I think I’ll change my name to Lady Rachel so I can havethe title to go along with the position.”

Lester narrowed his eyes and glared at his wife. “Rachel,” hebegan in that voice she hated—the one that he always used whenhe was chastising her.

“What?” Rachel shrugged, already getting defensive.

“I don’t have the position yet,” he said matter-of-factly. “Theregional board just nominated me tonight. There’s still a nationalelection.”

Rachel waved him off. “That’s just a formality. Did you hearthose election results? You beat Pastor Johnson seventy-three totwenty-five percent!”

Lester sighed. “Pastor Johnson also got his sixteen-year-oldstepniece pregnant.” As soon as Lester said it, he looked like hewished he could take the words back.

The smile immediately left Rachel’s face. Lester was no sainthimself. He’d had his own little pregnant-woman-on the-sidedebacle. But thank God, they’d worked through that crisis.“I’m just saying,” Lester quickly continued, like he wanted toprevent Rachel’s mind from traveling down that rocky memorylane, “Pastor Johnson wasn’t that hard to beat. I still have to runagainst whomever they nominate from the North region, andrumor has it they’re bringing out their top dogPastor HoseaBush.”

“That jack-legged TV preacher?” Rachel asked with a frown.

Lester shook his head. “Pastor Bush is not jack-legged. He’swell established, comes from a highly respected family, and heleads one of the largest churches in the country.”

“So? He’s. Not. You,” Rachel said, reaching up and adjustingLester’s bow tie. Lester had been an extreme nerd when theywere in high school—which is why Rachel had never given himthe time of day. But he’d pursued her relentlessly and eventuallyhad worn her down. He was willing to be a father to her twokids and he loved her unconditionally. So she agreed to givetheir relationship a try, but not before having him shave off thatred mop of a hairstyle he wore and introducing him to Proactiv.She’d revamped his wardrobe, taught him how to have a littleswagger, and now, even she had to admit, he had it going on. Notto mention the fact that he was an awesome preacher. “Lester,sweetheart,” Rachel said, taking her husband’s hands, “you heardthat emcee tonight. For the past sixty years, the president of theABC has been a Southerner. That’s not about to change. I don’tcare how prominent this Rev. Tree is.”

Lester let out a small chuckle. “Pastor Bush,” he corrected.

“Tree, Bush, Leave, whatever,”she said, flicking her hand.“The bottom line is, that position is ours. God said so.”

He laughed again. “Oh, God said so, huh?”

Rachel nodded emphatically. “He sure did. And if God said it,then it’s so.” She grinned widely.

“Look at my baby,” Lester said proudly. “And to think, youthreatened to divorce me for entering the ministry.”

“Well, that’s because I’d spent my life as a preacher’sdaughter. I wasn’t trying to be a preacher’s wife. But I’ve gottenthe hang of it now.”

“You do make a great first lady,” Lester said, kissing heragain. “And can I say it again—you look lovely in that dress.”

“Thank you. And I’m going to make an even better first ladyon a national level.” She tightened the belt on her royal blueDiane von Furstenberg silk dress. Her attire tonight was justone indication of how far she’d come. Just a few years ago, shewould’ve shown up to an event like this in the latest Baby Phator Apple Bottoms style that she could find. And although she stillloved her some Kimora Lee Simmons, she didn’t have to wear iteverywhere.

“Congratulations, Rev. Adams,” an elderly man said as hewalked past them.

Lester stopped and smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

“I can’t wait until you officially claim that presidency,” theman said as he stepped on to the elevator.

“From your lips to God’s ears,” Lester replied as he wavedgood-bye.

Rachel waited for the elevator door to close. “See, everyoneknows you’re the man for the job. And I’m the woman that needsto be next to the man for the job.”

“Since when did this kind of stuff excite you?”Rachel’s hands went to her hips. “Since I did my homework.Do you know that the last wife of the ABC president wasinvited everywhere? To White House dinners, commencementceremonies, the Grammys—she even cohosted on The View!”

“But wasn’t she a TV journalist anyway?”

Rachel frowned. Lester and all this negativity was about towork her nerves. “That’s beside the point. Everyone knows theABC president is one of the most powerful men in the country,so that means the ABC ’s president’s wife would be one of themost powerful women.”

“I’m just saying, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Whatever, Lester.”Rachel rolled her eyes. She’d beeneuphoric since they announced he’d won the election an hourago. Of course, she always knew he would, but hearing itconfirmed was the icing on the cake.

As thoughts of hanging out with Michelle Obama danced inher head, Rachel once again smiled.

“Rachel, I see your mind working.”

“Just trying to determine where I’ll get my dress for yourinduction ceremony.” Maybe she could get Kimora to design hersomething personally.

“Rachel—”

She put her finger to his lips. “Shhhh,” she said, draping herarm through his. “Let’s just savor the moment tonight. Let’s goback in, mingle with the people, and enjoy ourselves. My dadand Brenda have the kids, so the night is all ours. Tomorrow,we’ll talk about the national election.” Rachel decided to justchange the subject because she didn’t care what Lester said,he would win the national election. And if this Reverend Bushproved to be a problem, well, Rachel might just have to revertto her old bag of tricks—just for a moment—to make sure thathe wasn’t a threat. She wasn’t going to let anything, or anyone,stand in the way of claiming what was destined to be hers.

Chasing Mona Lisa - Reviewed

2012-01-16T23:31:00.003-07:00

It is August 1944 and Paris is on the cusp of liberation. As the soldiers of the Third Reich flee the Allied advance, they ravage the country, stealing countless pieces of art. Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring will stop at nothing to claim the most valuable one of all, the Mona Lisa, as a post-war bargaining chip to get him to South America. Can Swiss OSS agents Gabi Mueller and Eric Hofstadler rescue DaVinci's masterpiece before it falls into German hands?

With nonstop action, Chasing Mona Lisa is sure to get readers' adrenaline pumping as they join the chase to save the most famous painting in the world. From war-ravaged Paris to a posh country chateau, the race is on--and the runners are playing for keeps.

My Thoughts: I was drawn into this book from page one. It was a travel back in time, and a vacation of sorts through France. This book takes place when France is being liberated from Germany. The very valuable picture The Mona Lisa has gone missing and it is a race against time to get her back.
Tricia writes so vividly you feel as if you are right there experiencing everything the characters are. I highly recommend this one!

Preview: His Steadfast Love - CFBA

2012-01-12T10:51:00.000-07:00

This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing His Steadfast Love Thomas Nelson (November 1, 2011) by Golden Keyes Parsons

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Golden Keyes Parsons writes historical fiction for Thomas Nelson Publishing, and is also a popular retreat/conference speaker. Her highly acclaimed Darkness to Light Series chronicled the journey of her French Huguenot ancestors in 17th century France. Her newest novel, His Steadfast Love, a Civil War novel set in Texas, just released November 2011. Golden lives in Waco, TX, with her husband, Blaine, where they enjoy their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren and are avid sports fan of their alma mater, Baylor University.

ABOUT THE BOOK

It isn't until the Civil War comes to her doorstep that Amanda Bell must choose between love and family.

It's the spring of 1861 on the Gulf Coast of Texas. Amanda never thought she would marry because of a promise she made to her dying mother, but her attraction to Captain Kent Littlefield is undeniable.

When Texas secedes from the Union, her brother Daniel aligns with the Confederate States, while Kent remains with the Union troops.

Her heart is torn between the two men she is closest to and the two sides of the conflict. Amanda prays to God for direction and support, but hears only silence. Where is God in the atrocities of war-and whose side is He on?

Amanda senses her life is at a turning point. She must trust God to deliver her family through the chaos of war with her heart and her faith intact.

If you would like to read the first chapter of His Steadfast Love, go HERE.

Preview The Captive Heart - CFBA

2012-01-09T12:18:00.001-07:00

This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing The Captive Heart Bethany House (January 1, 2012) by Dale Cramer

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Dale Cramer spent his formative years traveling the world as an Army brat, then settled in Georgia at the age of fifteen when his father retired.

After high school he became an electrician, a job that took him to places as diverse as power plants, stadia, airports, high-rise office buildings and a hard-rock mining operation.

Twenty-five years of experiences in the trades provided him with the wealth of characters, stories and insights that populate his novels.

When he married his childhood friend, Pam, in 1975 he had no way of knowing they would not have children until fifteen years later.

In his early forties, when Dale left his job to become a stay-at-home dad, he suddenly found himself with time on his hands, so he pursued a lifelong dream and taught himself to write.

Using an online writer’s forum as a training ground, he wrote his first short stories in 1996. As his writing skills improved he turned to novels, publishing his first book, Sutter’s Cross, in 2003.

Since then, Dale has published four more novels and garnered a measure of critical acclaim with two Christy Awards, a listing among Publisher’s Weekly’s Best Books of 2004 and numerous other Best lists. Dale and his wife Pam live in Georgia with their two sons.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Bandit troubles intensify as Caleb Bender's family tries to settle into their new life in 1920s Paradise Valley. When El Pantera kidnaps Rachel and leaves her brother, Aaron, for dead, Jake Weaver and the Mexican native Domingo pursue the bandit leader to his mountain stronghold in a hopeless rescue attempt. Jake and Domingo manage to escape with Rachel, with the bandits hot on their trail. In a desperate attempt to avoid recapture, Domingo puts himself squarely in harm's way, giving Jake and Rachel time to get away. This is not the quiet life Caleb Bender envisioned when he led his family out of Ohio. What is a father to make of his daughter's obvious affection for a man outside the fold? And how will a pacifist Amishman like Caleb respond to the events that threaten his family and their way of life?

If you would like to read the first chapter of The Captive Heart, go HERE

The Accidential Bride - Denise Hunter

2012-01-09T11:56:00.003-07:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Denise Hunter

and the book:

The Accidental Bride

Thomas Nelson (January 3, 2012)

***Special thanks to
Audra Jennings – The B&B Media Group – for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Denise lives in Indiana with her husband Kevin and their three sons. In 1996, Denise began her first book, a Christian romance novel, writing while her children napped. Two years later it was published, and she's been writing ever since. Her books often contain a strong romantic element, and her husband Kevin says he provides all her romantic material, but Denise insists a good imagination helps too!

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Shay Brandenberger has built her entire life on the shifting sands of what others think. Constantly seeking the approval of others, she has struggled through a rocky childhood, a failed marriage and single parenthood. Now it looks like she’s losing the ranch that has been in her family for three generations, a surefire way to mark her as a failure in the eyes of the community. When Travis McCoy, the high school sweetheart who very publicly broke her heart fifteen years before, returns to Moose Creek, she is less than pleased. Not only does his re-appearance dredge up a deluge of painful memories, it also reminds everyone in town that it was he who left her, not the other way around. To make matters worse, Shay and Travis are unwittingly paired to play bride and groom in the annual Founder’s Day wedding re-enactment where, much to her chagrin, she discovers he still has the power to take her breath away.

Product Details:

List Price: $15.99

Paperback: 304 pages

Publisher: Thomas Nelson (January 3, 2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1595548025

ISBN-13: 978-1595548023

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

The bell above the diner’s door jingled
and—despite her most valiant effort—Shay Brandenberger’s eyes darted toward the
entry. An unfamiliar couple entered—tourists. She could tell by their khaki
Eddie Bauer vests and spanking-new hiking boots. Look out, Yellowstone.

When her heart rate returned to normal,
she checked her watch and took a sip of coffee. Five minutes till she met Miss
Lucy at the Doll House, forty till she met John Oakley at the bank. What if he
said no? What would they do then?

“Mom . . . Earth to Mom . . .” Olivia
waved her hand too close to Shay’s face, her brown eyes widening.

“Sorry, hon.” The one bright moment of
her Saturday was breakfast with her daughter, and she couldn’t enjoy it for the
dread. “What were you saying?”

Olivia set her fork on her
pancake-sticky plate and heaved a sigh worthy of her twelve-year-old self.
“Never mind.” She bounced across the vinyl bench, her thick brown ponytail
swinging. “I’m going to meet Maddy.”

“Right back here at noon,” Shay called,
but Olivia was out the door with the flick of her hand.

The diner buzzed with idle chatter.
Silverware clattered and scraped, and the savory smell of bacon and fried eggs
unsettled her stomach. She took a sip of the strong brew from the fat rim of
her mug.

The bell jingled again. I will not look. I will
not look. I will not—

The server appeared at her booth, a new
girl, and gathered Olivia’s dishes. “On the house today.”

Shay set down her mug, bristling. “Why?”

The woman shrugged. “Boss’s orders,” she
said, then made off with the dirty dishes.

From the rectangular kitchen window,
Mabel Franklin gave Shay a pointed look.

So Shay had helped the couple with their
foal the week before. It was the neighborly thing to do.

Fine. She gave a reluctant smile and a
wave. She pulled her wallet from her purse, counted out the tip, and dragged
herself from the booth, remembering her daughter’s bouncy exit. Lately her
thirty-two years pressed down on her body like a two-ton boulder.

She opened the diner’s door and peeked
both ways before exiting the Tin Roof and turning toward the Doll House. She
was only checking sidewalk traffic, not hiding. Nope, she wasn’t hiding from
anyone. The boardwalks were busy on Saturdays. That was why she hadn’t come to
town for two weeks. Why their pantry was emptier than a water trough at high
noon.

She hurried three shops down and slipped
into the cool, welcoming air of Miss Lucy’s shop.

“ ’Morning, Miss Lucy.”

“ ’Morning, dear.” The elderly woman, in
the middle of helping a customer, called over her rounded shoulder, “It’s in
the back.” Miss Lucy’s brown eyes were big as buckeyes behind her thick
glasses, and her white curls glowed under the spotlights.

“Okeydoke.” Shay forced her feet toward
the storeroom.

A musty smell assaulted her as she
entered the back room and flipped on the overhead fluorescents. She scanned the
boxes of doll parts and skeins of yarn until she found what she was looking
for. She approached the box, lifted the lid, and parted the tissue.

The wedding gown had been carefully
folded and tucked away. Shay ran her fingers over the delicate lace and pearls.
Must’ve been crisp white in its day, but time had cast a long shadow over it.
Time had a way of doing that.

Her fingers lingered on the thin fabric.
She remembered another time, another dress. A simple white one that hung on her
young shoulders, just skimmed the cement of the courthouse steps. The ache that
squeezed her heart had faded with time, but it was there all the same. Would it
ever go away?

Shaking her head, Shay turned back to
the task at hand. The gown seemed too pretty, too fragile to disturb.

Oh well. She’d promised.

She pulled it out and draped it over the
box, then shimmied from her jeans. When she was down to the bare necessities,
she stepped carefully into the gown. She eased it over her narrow hips and slid
her arms into the long sleeves. The neckline was modest, the gathered skirt
fuller than anything she ever wore. Here in the air-conditioning it was fine,
but she would swelter next Saturday.

Leaving the button-up back gaping, she
hitched the skirt to the top of her cowboy boots and entered the store.

Miss Lucy was ushering the customer out
the door. When she turned, she stopped, her old-lady shoes squeaking on the
linoleum. “Land sakes.”

Shay took two steps forward and dropped
the skirt. It fell to the floor with a whoosh.

“Fits like a glove,” Miss Lucy said.
“And with some low heels it’ll be the perfect length.”

Shay didn’t even own heels. “My boots’ll
have to do. Button the back?”

Miss Lucy waddled forward, turned Shay
toward a small wall mirror flecked with time, and began working the tiny pearl
buttons.

Shay’s breath caught at her image. She
forced its release, then frowned. Wedding gowns were bad luck. She’d sworn
she’d never wear another. If someone had told her yesterday she’d be wearing
this thing today, she’d have said they were one straw short of a bale.

Miss Lucy moved up to the buttons
between her shoulders, and Shay lifted her hair. The dress did fit, clinging to
her torso like it was made for her, wouldn’t you know. Even the color
complemented her olive skin.

Still, there was that whole bad luck
thing.

And what would everyone think of Shay
Brandenberger wearing this valuable piece of Moose Creek heritage? A white
wedding gown, no less. If she didn’t have the approval of her closest friends
and neighbors, what did she have? Not much, to her thinking.

She wanted to cut and run. Wanted to
shimmy right out of the dress, tuck it into that box in the storeroom, slip
back into her Levi’s and plaid button-up, and go back to her ranch where she
could hole up for the next six months.

She checked the time and wished Miss
Lucy had nimbler fingers. Of all days to do this, a Saturday, when everyone
with two legs was in town. And she still had that infernal meeting with John
Oakley.

Please, God, I can’t lose our home . . .

“I’m obliged to you, dear. I completely
forgot Jessie was going out of town.”

“No problem.”

“Baloney. You’d rather be knee-deep in
cow dung.” The woman’s marionette lines at the sides of her mouth deepened.

“It’s one hour of my life.” A pittance,
after all Miss Lucy had done for her.

Miss Lucy finished buttoning, and Shay
dropped her hair and smoothed the delicate lace at the cuffs.

“Well, bless you for being willing. God
is smiling down on you today for your kindness.”

Shay doubted God really cared one way or
another. It was her neighbors she worried about.

“Beautiful, just beautiful. You’ll be
the talk of the town on Founders Day.”

“No doubt.” Everyone in Moose Creek
would be thinking about the last time she’d worn a wedding gown. And the time
before that.

Especially the time before that.

Third time’s a charm, Shay thought, the corner of her lip
turning up.

“Stop fretting,” Miss Lucy said,
squeezing her shoulders. “You look quite fetching, like the gown was made for
you. I won’t have to make a single alteration. Why, it fits you better than it
ever did Jessie—don’t you tell her I said so.”

Shay tilted her head. Maybe Miss Lucy
was right. The dress did make the most of her figure. And she had as much right
to wear it as anyone. Maybe more—she was born and raised here, after all. It
was just a silly old reenactment anyway. No one cared who the bride and groom
were.

The bell jingled as the door opened
behind her. She glanced in the mirror, over her shoulder, where a hulking
silhouette filled the shop’s doorway. There was something familiar in the set
of the man’s broad shoulders, in the slow way he reached up and removed his
hat.

The sight of him constricted her rib
cage, squeezed the air from her lungs as if she were wearing a corset. But she
wasn’t wearing a corset. She was wearing a wedding gown. Just as she had been
the last time she’d set eyes on Travis McCoy.

My Thoughts: Oh how I loved this book! Shay's family farm is in trouble and she agrees to play the bride for the town's Founder's Day wedding reenactment little does she know that the man who left her at the altar Travis is going to play the groom. Shay is not happy about this at all, considering he left her to go ride in the rodeo. Shay doesn't realize how sorry Travis is for leaving her, and how much he wants to be able to make it up to her. Will this give him the opportunity to do so? You'll have to read and find out! I highly recommend this one!

Cherry Blossom Capers

2012-01-05T10:47:00.003-07:00

Today's Wild Card authors are:

Featured Author:

Gina Conroy

Authors of the other novellas in the Cherry Blossom Capers are:

Cara C. Putman, Lynette Sowell, Frances Devine

and the book:

Cherry Blossom Capers

Barbour Books (January 1, 2012)

***Special thanks to Gina Conroy for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHORS:

Gina Conroy:

Gina Conroy used to think she knew where her life was headed; now she's leaning on the Lord to show her the way. She is the founder of Writer...Interrupted where she mentors busy writers and tries to keep things in perspective, knowing God's timing is perfect, even if she doesn't agree with it! ;) She is represented by Chip MacGregor of MacGregor Literary, and her first novella, Buried Deception, in the Cherry Blossom Capers Collection, releases from Barbour Publishing in January 2012. On her blog Defying Gravity and twitter she chronicles her triumphs and trials as she pursues her dreams while encouraging her family and others to chase after their own passions. Gina loves to connect with readers, and when she isn’t writing, teaching, or driving kids around, you can find her on Facebook and Twitter.

Visit the author's website.

Cara C. Putman:

Since the time I could read Nancy Drew, I have wanted to write mysteries. In 2005 I attended a book signing at my local Christian bookstore. The rest, as they say, is history. There I met Colleen Coble. With prompting from my husband, I shared my dream with Colleen. Since those infamous words, I've been writing books.

My eleventh novel released in April 2011, and I have also written one non-fiction title (the Complete Idiots Guide to Business Law). Look for three more titles in spring 2012.

In addition to writing, I am an attorney, lecturer at a Big Ten university, active in women's ministry, and all around crazy woman. Crazy about God, my husband and my kids. I graduated with honors from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln (Go Huskers!) and George Mason Law School.

Visit the author's website.

Lynette Sowell:

Lynette Sowell is the award-winning author of four novels and six novellas for Barbour Publishing. In 2009, Lynette was voted one of the favorite new authors by Heartsong Presents book club readers. Her historical romance, All That Glitters, was a finalist in ACFW's 2010 Carol Awards. When Lynette's not writing, she divides her time between editing medical reports and chasing down news stories for the Copperas Cove Leader-Press. Lynette was born in Massachusetts, raised on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, but makes her home on the doorstep of the Texas hill country with her husband and a herd of cats who have them well-trained. She loves reading, cooking, watching movies, and is always up for a Texas road trip.
You can find Lynette at her Facebook author page.

Visit the author's website.

Frances Devine:

FRANCES DEVINE is first a Christian, second a Mom, grandmother and great grandmother. After that, the most important thing in her life is books. Like most authors, she can’t remember a time when she didn’t love to read. And right from the beginning, she was crazy about mysteries. When she was in her sixties, she decided it would be fun to write them and the Miss Aggie series was born. She has also written two historical romance series and several novellas. Frances grew up in Texas and still loves her home state, but when she moved to Missouri in 1984, she fell in love with the changing seasons, the trees and hills. The Misadventures of Miss Aggie series is set in the Missouri Ozarks. Frances loves to hear from her readers at fdevine1@gmail.com. She also welcomes comments on her blog .

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Collection Summary, releasing January 2012

Four townhouse neighbors encounter romance and mystery near our nation’s capital. In State Secrets, White House assistant chef Tara Whitley and FBI agent Jack Courtland stop a plot to sabotage a State dinner—and find love still hidden in their hearts. In Dying for Love, attorneys and opponents Ciara Turner and Daniel Evans uncover love while searching for justice. In Buried Deception, archaeologist Samantha Steele and security guard Nick Porter dig up love while uncovering a forged artifact. In Coffee, Tea and Danger, amateur sleuths Susan Holland and Vince Martini find love while investigating a string of mysterious accidents.

Featured Novella: Buried Deception by Gina Conroy

Mount Vernon archaeology intern and widow Samantha Steele wants to provide for her children without assistance from anyone. Security guard and ex-cop Nick Porter is haunted by his past and keeps his heart guarded. But when they discover an artifact at Mount Vernon is a fake, Nick and Samantha need to work together, set aside their stubbornness, and rely on each other or the results could be deadly. Will Samantha relinquish her control to a man she hardly knows? Can Nick learn to trust again? And will they both allow God to excavate their hearts so they can find new love?

Product Details:

List Price: $7.99

Paperback: 352 pages

Publisher: Barbour Books (January 1, 2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1616266465

ISBN-13: 978-1616266462

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER OF "BURIED DECEPTION" OF CHERRY BLOSSOM CAPERS:

“Buried Deception” of Cherry Blossom Capers

Alex, come back!” Samantha Steele’s heart jolted, and she darted after her seven-year-old son. The little renegade ignored her pleas and ran full-throttle toward the dig site behind the slave quarters at Mount Vernon Estates. She glanced at Callie, her nine-year-old, who huffed after her. Why’d her sitter get sick the first day of her archaeology internship?

Samantha pursued Alex through the upper garden toward the archaeology pit where tourists gathered. Her chest tightened. Squatting in the dirt, her boss seemed oblivious to the runaway locomotive about to cause a train wreck.

Samantha prayed that her first encounter with her boss wouldn’t be her last, but two years earlier, God didn’t intervene.

Why would He now?

“Watch out!” Her warning came late as Alex crashed into a dark-headed man in a navy uniform. God’s answer to prayer wasn’t a surprise. The God she knew remained distant, often

turning up the heat when all she wanted was to escape the fire.

Something thumped against Nick Porter’s hip. His drink blew its top, spilling Coke on his security uniform as he dropped his sack. His double cheeseburger and fries tumbled out. “Hey,

watch it!”

The kid who’d plowed into him jumped back.

Two weeks on the job and he’d made a mess of things.

A petite brunette in khaki shorts scurried to his mangled meal. She stuffed it back in the sack, hunching as she offered it. “So sorry.”

Nick’s stomach growled. Just what he wanted. A side of dirt with his burger.

She nudged the freckle-faced kid forward.

The boy resisted. Nick’s frown softened. So much like—

She sighed. “My son is sorry, Officer.”

“It’s Nick Porter, and I’m just security.” Security. He hated the sound of it.

“What happened to the Mount Vernon police?”

“One of many cutbacks.”

She wrote on a business card and handed it to him. Samantha Steele.

“Send me the dry-cleaning bill.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The blond girl waved her brochure. “This says there’s no food allowed except in the designated eating areas.”

“This one yours, too?” He pointed to the cherub-faced girl. “Charming kids, Mrs. Steele.” He couldn’t hide his sarcasm, the one emotion that remained.

“It’s Ms. Steele. My husband died two years ago.”

Nick spotted Samantha’s naked ring finger. Stupid. As a cop, he never missed a detail. “Sorry.” He paused. “I lost my wife, too.” Why was he confessing to a stranger?

Her eyes sympathized as if she understood his pain.

Impossible.

The kid dug into his pocket. “Here.” Tiny fingers tickled Nick’s palm as the boy released the coins. “I’m really sorry, mister.” The boy’s hazel eyes pierced Nick’s soul.

Nick fought the stirring as memories surfaced. A heaviness descended as they walked away. He should’ve thanked the kid, or at least refused his money. If he could rewind the last few moments, he would. But God didn’t give second chances.

If He did, they certainly weren’t free.

Gripping Alex’s hand, Samantha plodded toward the mansion to catch the tour before her orientation. She inhaled the magnolia breeze, her nerves calming. Something about that security guard unsettled her. Sure, he had Cary Grant looks, but minus the cleft chin and charm he was nothing to swoon over. Besides, she wouldn’t play anyone’s leading lady again. Oh boy.

Classic-movie night with her town house neighbors at Cherry Blossom Estates was getting to her.

The three of them followed the tour into the large mint-green dining room. Samantha admired the intricate white agricultural moldings and crystal dinnerware as the African-

American docent dressed in period attire shared the history.

Alex looked up. “This ceiling is huge.”

“They’re double the size of ceilings at the time.” Samantha studied the detailed carving. “Washington was a great innovator.”

“They had elevators?” Alex whipped his head around. “Can I ride?”

Callie rolled her eyes. “An innovator, not elevator.”

“May I have your attention?” The guide adjusted her head scarf. “Please don’t touch anything.” Her plump figure squeezed through the crowd.

“When my younguns misbehave, I take a switch to them.” The woman’s words grew thick as biscuit gravy. “Can’t have them disrespecting the president now, could I?”

Samantha withdrew from the woman. But Alex pointed to her name tag. Althea Washington. “Are you related to George Washington?”

“She can’t be related; she’s a slave, bozo.” Callie elbowed Alex.

Samantha’s face flushed. “She’s only playing a slave.”

“Next time I sees Masta Washington, I’ll introduce you so you can ask him yourself.” Althea returned to the front. “We’ll pass through the little parlor with the harpsichord President Washington bought for his stepdaughter, Nelly Custis.” Her Southern accent morphed to normal. She glared at Alex. “Please, keep your hands to yourself.”

Something seemed off about Ms. Washington’s role playing. “Stay close and act civilized.” Wouldn’t want to upset her if she had some screws loose underneath that head scarf.

Walking through the little parlor, Samantha squeezed Alex’s hand. Once inside the central passage, her grip relaxed. Marveling at the beautiful mahogany-grained walls, she imagined Washington entertaining guests with doors open as a summer breeze cooled the house.

Callie walked into the front parlor. Samantha followed, her arms swinging, carefree and—empty. Alex?

When did she let go? She spun. Surveyed the entryway. No Alex.

“Where’s your brother?”

Callie shrugged.

“Stay with the group.” Samantha hurried across the hall into the small dining room. Footsteps echoed. She peeked out, her heart beating a warning.

Just her luck Nick Porter’d be patrolling the mansion while Alex went AWOL.

Samantha waited until Nick disappeared; then she jogged up the staircase and surveyed the second floor. The sign on the first door said Closed for Renovations. She checked the

other rooms. All empty.

A door slammed. She turned. Alex scurried from the first room.

“Alex!” she whispered, following him downstairs and through the bedchamber. The study door closed. She raced in and gasped.

Perched on Washington’s chair, Alex reached toward the terrestrial globe.

“Stop!” She reached for him, holding her breath as if a tiny wind would send him falling onto the antique.

He froze.

She lowered her voice. “I’m not mad.” Yet. “Climb down.”

Alex eyed the globe, then jumped off and shuffled toward her like Sylvester with a mouthful of Tweety.

Heat exploded inside her. “Do I need to buy a leash?”

For the past two years she’d dealt with Alex’s unpredictable behavior. She understood he missed his father, so she’d been patient. “Let’s find Callie.”

Swinging around for the door, she slammed into a human wall. Her purse fell. Nick Porter retrieved it as she scrambled after her lipstick.

“Ma’am, you shouldn’t be in here.” He reached to help her up. Their eyes met. “You?”

“Sorry, we’re leaving.” But before Samantha grabbed Alex’s hand, he raced toward the presidential chair.

Climbed.

Reached.

Touched.

“Don’t!” Nick ran to him.

The globe went whirling.

Samantha gasped as the globe’s stand wobbled, her world teetering on the edge of destruction. She fought to breathe as she reached for the antique. It was too late. Like dominoes the globe toppled, knocking against the table by the window, which sent the brass telescope on top catapulting to the ground.

Nick snatched the telescope pieces from Samantha’s hands. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to see the antique was beyond repair.

He set the globe upright, examining it and the table that broke the globe’s fall. No scratches or nicks. Now he got his miracle?

“Sorry, Mommy. Are they still gonna let you work here?”

Nick stared at Samantha. “What’d he say?”

“I—I’m doing an archaeology internship. This summer.”

This wasn’t the last he’d see of her and Captain Chaos? “I’ll have to report this.”

“Wait. Maybe it can be fixed.”

As the kid crawled under the desk, remnants of Nick’s paternal heart wanted to comfort the boy. “You’d better come out.” Had he remembered to soften his tone?

The kid scooted from under the desk. Samantha stroked his hair. “I’ll make everything okay.” She took the eyepiece and barrel from him, tried to fit them together.

“What am I thinking? This isn’t a flea market item I can fix with glue. It’s Washington’s original brass telescope. It survived over two hundred years and millions of tourists, but it couldn’t survive my son.” Tears welled.

Nick shifted his weight, wishing she’d dam that river. He wasn’t heartless; he just never knew how to handle women’s emotions. “I’m calling this in now.”

“Isn’t there something we can do?” Her eyes locked on his like a deer caught in his headlights. He rushed to close the doors on either end of the room. He was insane to risk his job to help this stranger, no matter how much she needed rescuing.

There was something about her. . .needing him. Voices echoed outside the door. “Stay here.”

“My daughter—I need to get her.”

“She’ll be fine.” Nick stepped out. “Room’s closed.” He shut the door.

“Did you see Callie?”

“She’s fine.” His gut knotted. “She won’t try a stunt like young Knievel here or turn George’s bed into a trampoline, right?”

Color pinched Samantha’s cheeks. “Callie would never—just because Alex is curious and clumsy doesn’t make me a terrible mom.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.” She crossed her arms.

He shook his head. “We’ll stay put until the tour is finished. Then you’ll find Callie, and we’ll figure this out together.” Together? He definitely needed his head examined. “They have

insurance. I’m sure they’ll understand when we explain.” He took the eyepiece and barrel from her.

Samantha gripped Nick’s arm. “There has to be another way.”

An unexpected longing panged. He couldn’t abandon her now.

With a sigh, he worked the eyepiece into the barrel and sighted toward the Potomac. What? He looked again, his pulse accelerating. A hearty laugh erupted.

“My life’s falling apart, and you’re laughing?” Samantha’s nostrils flared.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Then what’s so funny?”

“The telescope is a fake.”

My Thoughts: Great book by four great authors! I really enjoyed this one! Grab this one and curl up with a blanket and a cup of coffee, tea, or cocoa and enjoy!

CFBA ~ Rose of Winslow Street

2012-01-04T15:37:00.000-07:00

This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing The Rose of Winslow Street Bethany House (January 1, 2012)

by Elizabeth Camden

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

A research librarian and associate professor, Elizabeth Camden has a master’s in history from the University of Virginia and a master’s in library science from Indiana University. She has published several articles for academic publications and is the author of four nonfiction history books. Her ongoing fascination with history and love of literature have led her to write inspirational fiction. Elizabeth lives with her husband in central Florida.

ABOUT THE BOOK

The last thing Libby Sawyer and her father expected upon their return from their summer home was to find strangers inhabiting a house that had been in their family for decades. Widower Michael Dobrescu brought his family from Romania to the town of Colden, Massachusetts with a singular purpose: to claim the house willed to him long ago. Since neither party has any intention of giving up their claim, a fierce legal battle ensues between the two families.

When important documents go missing from the house, Libby suspects Michael is the culprit. Determined to discover the truth behind the stolen papers, Libby investigates, only to find more layers of mystery surrounding Michael and his family. Despite their rivalry, Libby finds herself developing feelings for this man with the mysterious past.

As a decision about the house looms in the courts, Libby must weigh the risks of choosing to remain loyal to her family or give her heart to a man whose intentions and affections are less than certain.

If you would like to read the first chapter of The Rose of Winslow Street, go HERE.

Wayward Son - Reviewed

2012-01-04T15:06:00.003-07:00

Book Description:
A POWERFUL TREMOR UNEARTHS AN ANCIENT SECRET
Buried near Italy's Mount Vesuvius is a fortified observatory containing artifacts dating to the earliest record of human events. Only one person, the Getty Museum's Amanda James can unlock the mysterious doors that guard the chamber. But once inside, Amanda is shocked to discover evidence left behind by a notorious Biblical killer; who long ago wandered off the pages of history. When a strange relic unveils the miraculous truth about this villain, Amanda must confront sinister forces intent on suppressing her stunning revelation; before it alters the destiny of millions. The first in a series, Wayward Son, takes the reader back in time, where ancient adventures in Egypt, Greece, China and Rome collide with modern-day intrigue and suspense. Journey with Amanda and witness the incredible story of the world's original wayward son.

My Thoughts: The book started out confusing and I wasn't sure if I was going to like it or not, then it just picked up with action and it was hard to put down! It reminded me of Indiana Jones. I highly recommend it!

The Bachelor - Ben returns

2012-01-02T22:32:00.003-07:00

Well another season of ABC'S The Bachelor has returned and with it is Ben Flajnik, he took a gamble on last season's The Bachelorette and proposed to Ashley and was turned down. This time he's in the driver's seat. Tonight 25 women arrived, one with her Gramma. Yes! Brittany brought her Gramma with her, because she knew Ben was a family man and she wanted him to meet her Grandmother. Boy, did that get all the girls talking. If that wasn't enough one entered in on a horse . . . Lindzi. We had drama, set off by Jenna who asked Monica if she was in "to" Ben, that didn't go over well with Monica and then she went and snuggled on the couch with another one of the girls. Wasn't good. Jenna ended up in the bathroom bawling just before the rose ceremony and surprisingly Ben kept her. WEIRD! After being in the bathroom for 15 minutes at least she looked like she just got out of bed. It's going to be another season of high energy drama!

CFBA The Maid of Fairbourne Hall

2012-01-02T16:41:00.000-07:00

This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing The Maid of Fairbourne Hall Bethany House (January 1, 2012) by Julie Klassen

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Julie worked in publishing for sixteen years (first in advertising, then as a fiction editor) and now writes full time. Two of her books, The Girl in the Gatehouse and The Silent Governess won the Christy Award for Historical Romance. The Girl in the Gatehouse also won a Midwest Book Award and The Silent Governess was a finalist in Romance Writers of America's RITA awards.

She graduated from the University of Illinois and enjoys travel, research, BBC period dramas, long hikes, short naps, and coffee with friends. Julie and her husband have two sons and live near St. Paul, Minnesota.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Pampered Margaret Macy flees London in disguise to escape pressure to marry a dishonorable man. With no money and nowhere else to go, she takes a position as a housemaid in the home of Nathaniel Upchurch, a suitor she once rejected in hopes of winning his dashing brother. Praying no one will recognize her, Margaret fumbles through the first real work of her life. If she can last until her next birthday, she will gain an inheritance from a spinster aunt--and sweet independence. But can she remain hidden as a servant even when prying eyes visit Fairbourne Hall?

Observing both brothers as an "invisible" servant, Margaret learns she may have misjudged Nathaniel. Is it too late to rekindle his admiration? And when one of the family is nearly killed, Margaret alone discovers who was responsible. Should she come forward, even at the risk of her reputation and perhaps her life? And can she avoid an obvious trap meant to force her from hiding?

On her journey from wellborn lady to servant to uncertain future, Margaret must learn to look past appearances and find the true meaning of "serve one another in love."

If you would like to read the first chapter of The Maid of Fairbourne Hall, go HERE

To Dance Once More - Reviewed

2011-12-28T20:32:00.004-07:00

Book Description:
All Lydia wants is to travel the world before she has to settle down with a husband. But she may not have that choice anymore. April 1886. Debutante Lydia Jane Barrington lives a carefree, protected existence on Live Oaks Plantation in Florida. But while her sisters happily learn the traditional tasks of women and talk of courting, Lydia dreams of adventure and independence. Even her friendship with handsome Hamilton Scarbrough isn't enough to hold her back. Then one day Hamilton opens Lydia's eyes and her heart to love. But before they can receive permission to court, Lydia overhears a secret conversation about an unscrupulous business deal. Worse, it has everything to do with her and her future. Now she's faced with the biggest decision of her life-to concede or to fight. Either choice will require great sacrifice...and, perhaps, countless rewards. Passion. Friendship. A bitter enemy. A life-changing decision. Set in Victorian-era Florida.

My Thoughts: Having lived in Florida I was drawn to this book immediately! I could smell the orange blossoms and feel the sea breeze. Sherri did a great job bringing the Victorian era to life. I felt for Lydia! Her sisters are all about wanting to get married and live the life their mother has, she does not. She wants to do something important! Lydia's faith gets challenged because of the decision she makes and I found myself cheering and even misty eyed. This is a great book and I highly recommend it!

My Top Reads of 2011

2011-12-26T16:16:00.005-07:00

Out of 125 books that I have read and reviewed over 2011 I have chosen 13 that I believe are the top books! If you did not get a chance to read these in 2011, I encourage you to read them in the upcoming year.

Wonderland Creek by Lynn Austin
Heiress by Susan May Warren
When Love Collides by Michelle Sutton
In Leah's Wake by Terri Giuliano Long
A Sound Among The Trees by Susan Meissner
Lasting Impression by Tamara Alexander
Maggie's Journey by Lena Nelson Dooley
In Sheep's Clothing by Michelle Sutton
Edge of Grace by Christa Allen
Bridge To A Distant Star by Carolyn Williford
Hope Undaunted by Julie Lessman
Their Separate Ways by Michelle Sutton
Bathsheba by Jill Eileen Smith

I forgot HONORABLE MENTIONS!

Remembering You by Tricia Goyer
To Dance Once More by Sherri Wilson Johnson
The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern
Play It Again by Tracy Krauss
A Wedding Invitation by Alice J Wisler

There are my top reads for 2011! I am anxious to find out what everyone else says their tops are. Have a very Happy and Healthy New Year!

12 Pearls of Christmas Day 12

2011-12-25T08:00:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Merry Christmas from all of us at Pearl Girls™! We hope you enjoyed these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from the authors who were so kind to donate their time and talents! If you missed a few posts, I hope you'll be able go back through and read them on this blog over the next few days. If you'd like to keep up with Pearl Girls and our new book project, Mother of Pearl, coming this spring, just click this link and sign up for our newsletter (lower left sidebar).

Also, just a reminder that today is the last day for the pearl necklace and earrings giveaway! Enter now by filling out this {form}. The winner will on 1/1 at the Pearl Girls blog.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

Jesus -- The Reason For the Season

By: Rachel Hauck

Through the narrow scope of 2000 years, Mary, the mother of Jesus, appears to be one lucky woman. Chosen by God to give birth to His son, the Savior of the world? All right, Mary, way to go.

“Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you,” Gabriel said.

How many of us would like a declaration like that? Highly favored. The Lord is with you. But Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be.

The angel told her, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Mary’s seems confident and resolved when she responds, “I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled.”

She’d just been told the Holy Spirit will come upon her, that God’s power will overshadow her, that she’d become with child even though she wasn’t married, and she said, “I’m the Lord’s servant. Let your words be true.”

I find this amazing! A young woman. Ancient Bethlehem. Unwed mother. They stoned women for such things in her day. But Mary believed in God. And submitted to His will. He gave her the Holy Spirit – the same Holy Spirit given to us. If He gave her confidence, He will give us confidence. Even though, like Mary, our situation seems impossible.

Listen to Mary’s song later on in the first chapter of Luke.

“My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me Holy is his name…”

Conceiving a child out of wedlock, by Divine intervention. Not a girl’s every day existence. Yet she had a Yes in her heart to God. She rejoiced. She boldly said, “Generations will remember me!”

How we struggle to trust God with our children. Our finances. Our emotional well-being. We worry. We fret. And wonder why we have no peace.

Christmas is the season where words like joy, peace and love are bantered around like Christmas candy. Let’s not take them as just words, but as truth. Let’s be like Mary and embrace God’s favor on our lives. Boldly declare "He’s done great things for me!”

Out of the grit of our own souls, we can reach His heart, and feel Him reaching for ours. No matter the pain of our past, present or future, God is there for us. He is able. Best of all, He is willing. “My soul glorifies the Lord this Christmas!”

***

Rachel Hauck is an award winning, best selling author who believes God has done great things for her. She lives in Central Florida with her husband and ornery pets. Her next release is Love Lifted Me with multi-platinum country artist Sara Evans, January 2012. Then in April, look for The Wedding Dress. www.rachelhauck.com.

12 Pearls of Christmas Day 11

2011-12-24T08:00:00.001-07:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

The Panhandler's Breath

By Robin Dance

He slipped in sideways between the closing elevator doors, as if he were late to a meeting; he pressed the "5" without looking. Instead of suit and tie, though, baggy pants and faded navy hung on his tall, slim frame...and his stealth entry stiffened the hairs on the back of my neck.

I had noticed him a few seconds earlier, just after we had parted a sea of clamorous teens. He was smiling, grandfatherly, standing maybe 30 feet away where the electric shuttle picks up.

I had no idea he had been watching us, studying us, predator patiently awaiting his next prey.

The four of us were sealed in a four- by six-foot metal tomb. Tomb--that thought really scampered across my mind. I wondered if he had a knife in his pocket. I wanted to protect my son. Fight or flight pumped adrenaline but there was no where to run.

Extreme and ridiculous, these thoughts - and more - flashed through my mind. The Stranger began speaking.

"Yessir, I see you're a family man with your wife and your son here..." and he nodded in my and my son’s direction.

"...you see I'm homeless and all I've got..." and on queue, he reached into his left pocket and pulled out two old pennies blackened with age. Two cents to his name?! It was all too contrived, too practiced, and I didn't believe a word he was saying.

It was then I smelled it ~ the small space lent itself to that ~ and I doubted my doubt.

His breath.

It wasn't the scent of alcohol. His eyes weren't red, his voice didn't waver; his wizened face matched his graying hair.

His breath was morning's, zoo breath, the pet name I'd given to the scent inhaled when kissing my children awake when they were little.

He needed to brush his teeth. I wondered how long it had been since he brushed his teeth.

The elevator door opened and I handed him my leftover pizza as my son and I brushed past him. My husband handed him a bill and the Stranger thanked and God blessed him.

The elevator door closed behind us. Conflicted, I was relieved.

We got in the car and blurted first reaction--

"I didn't believe a word he said."

"That made me nervous."

"I wonder if he'll really eat the pizza."

In the quiet, we were left to our own thoughts, contemplating the right thing to do. At the end of the day, this is what I decided: It doesn't matter whether or not his story is true; for an old man to resort to begging, he has to be desperate. The money my husband gave him will never be missed. It was a reminder we've been entrusted with much and given much. Materially, yes, but more so spiritually. Loved, chosen, forgiven, redeemed, graced, lavished--every spiritual blessing. E v e r y.

There's a part of me that wishes I would have been brave enough to ask the man his story, made sure he knew he was loved...and bought him a tooth brush.

Later, it occurred to me he could have been an angel. Doesn’t that mean generosity, kindness and hospitality is always the right response? Then it's not about you or the stranger or the circumstance, it's about a simple, God-glorifying response.

Had we entertained an angel unaware? We'll never know.

But it wouldn't be the first time the Breath of Heaven smelled like a zoo.

***

In a decades-old, scandalous affair with her husband, Robin also confesses mad crushes on her three teens. As Southern as sugar-shocked tea, she’s a recovering people pleaser who advocates talking to strangers. A memoirist, Compassion International Blogger, and Maker-upper of words, Robin writes for her own site, PENSIEVE, and also for (in)courage by DaySpring (a subsidiary of Hallmark) and Simple Mom. She loves to get to know readers through their blog comments and on Twitter and Pinterest. www.pensieve.me

12 Pearls of Christmas Day 10

2011-12-23T12:03:00.000-07:00

***

Inside Out Christmas

by Debora M. Coty

My veterinarian friend, Dr. Katie, tells the story about the December when a woman brought a very sick black lab into her clinic. The dog was only ten months old, so she was really just a big puppy, but she’d been vomiting incessantly and her worried owner didn’t know what was wrong.

“Why don’t you go on home?” Dr. Katie told the owner. “I’ll need to run tests for about four hours. We’ll give you a call when we’re finished.”

Dr. Katie’s assistant took x-rays and hung them on the light panel for Dr. Katie to examine. Hmm. Something looked a little peculiar. Dr. Katie called her assistant over.

“Is it just me, or does that look like a … a camel to you?” she asked incredulously.

“Matter of fact, it does,” replied the astute assistant. “And look, there’s an angel here, a shepherd there, and down there in the colon, it’s Baby Jesus!”

At that moment the phone rang. It was the dog’s distraught owner. “I can’t believe this! I just got home and glanced at the coffee table where I put my manger scene yesterday. There’s nothing there but an empty stable!”

As I thought about this quite literal technique for internalizing the true meaning of Christmas, it occurred to me that sometimes I have the opposite problem. With all the bustling busyness, my inner joy in celebration of my savior’s birth never really makes it to the outside.

Oh, I have plenty of glittery, festive evidences of the holiday in decorations, baking galore, and gifts under my tree. But those things are for show. They’re merely the pretty wrappings, not the gift itself.

Can people really see the core-deep joy that radiates within me when I think of the true gift that Papa God sent the world in his son, Jesus? Is my immeasurable gratitude for eternal life evident as I dash through this hectic season?

I’m afraid all too often, the answer is no.

I’m just too preoccupied to allow my outside to reflect my inside so that nonbelievers recognize that I rejoice because of the hope that is within me. My joy is obscured by the mounds of clutter. Gratefulness is sucked out of my soul by the vacuum called urgency.

“But let the godly rejoice. Let them be glad in God’s presence. Let them be filled with joy” (Psalm 68:3, NLT).

This verse has become my prayer this Christmas season – that I would make the time to give priority to rejoicing, being glad in God’s presence, and letting my inner joy show for those who may be silently desperate to know the giver of true joy.

Yep, there’s a better way to internalize the gift of Christmas than the black lab technique. We can lodge the Little Lord Jesus in our hearts rather than our colons.

***

Debora M. Coty is a humorist, inspirational speaker, and award-winning author of twelve books, including Too Blessed to be Stressed, and coming in March, More Beauty, Less Beast: Transforming Your Inner Ogre. Debora would love to swap Christmas hugs with you at www.DeboraCoty.com.

Remembering You Reviewed

2011-12-23T11:39:00.002-07:00

Book Description: Television producer Ava Ellington cannot refuse her grandfather's last wish--that she accompany him to Europe on a tour of World War II battle sites. Ava has little interest in historical battles, but this may be her last chance to break down the barriers that have grown up between them, and she sets off, camera in hand, ready to record and report on their journey. She and Grandpa Jack are greeted in Paris by Paul, her grandpa's best friend, and his grandson Dennis. The Dennis who just happens to be Ava's first love. History comes alive as the group travels across Europe--from the romantic sights of Paris to the bleak battlefields of Belgium to the Austrian labor camp these men liberated so many years before--and Ava sees a side of her grandfather she's never known before. As he shares his memories of those bitter days on the battlefield, she begins to understand how his experiences in the war made him the man he is today. Throughout the journey, Ava and Dennis are drawn together in ways neither of them expected. Can their memories of the past lead to a bright new future?

My Thoughts: This was a sentimental journey and I found myself completely absorbed in it. Ava is a producer of Seattle's top morning show and she knows that if she doesn't come up with something good for the show she may not have a job. When the opportunity arises that she could travel with her Grandfather Jack back to Europe where he was during WWII she is leery because they had a falling out at Thanksgiving over her fiance. Ava decides to go and tape her grandfather along the way as he sees where he was as a young solider now as an older man. Ava learns about her grandfather in a way she never would had she not gone. She also learns about herself. I highly recommend this book!

12 Pearls of Christmas Day 9

2011-12-22T12:05:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

Simple or Sparkle?

by Tracey Eyster

It’s a simple ornament made of thin cheap metal and it looks quite out of place on our CHRISTmas tree. But each year I lovingly and safely nestle it amongst its expensive and sparkly peers, without a care as to how unglamorous it appears.

Many of our CHRISTmas ornaments have a story and an uncanny way of welling up emotion in me, but this certain one causes an intense stir.

You see the ornament is engraved with the name of my grandmother, Sara, and was given to me by my mother, who ordered it from Hospice, after Grandmama’s death. Yes, the months leading up to her death carry memories of a frail and failing grandmama, but that ornament carries my thoughts to sweet CHRISTmas memories of the past.

CHRISTmas Eve dinners in her home, laughing, singing, gathering and celebrating a year filled with blessings as we remembered the birth of our Savior. CHRISTmas mornings, she was always there participating with glee, in our raucous CHRISTmas happiness. Her gifts were always bank envelopes gently tucked into the pine needles of our CHRISTmas tree, fresh cut from the property she grew up on.

All memories of my Grandmama make my heart swell. You see she was my Jesus with skin on. She lived her life full of joy, serving others and approached life selflessly with an attitude of, “What can I do for you?”

Just months before she left us, even as the Alzheimer’s was robbing her mind she shared her love of Jesus with a sweet little old lady friend, who came to know the Lord – a divine appointment. The very next day that little old lady silently slipped away to meet in person the One Sara introduced her to just the day before.

At the time I wept, realizing that regardless of our own frailties and failings, God can still use those of us who are willing to do His work and are well practiced at hearing His voice...no matter our lack of sparkle in comparison to others.

A simple life lived for Him, a simple ornament in memory of Sara...a simple truth for you to ponder.

***

Tracey Eyster wife, mom, relationship gatherer and Creator/Editor of FamilyLife’s MomLife Today is a media savvy mom making a difference where moms are, on-line. Through speaking, writing and video interviews Tracey is passionate about encouraging, equipping and advising moms on every facet of momlife. Her first book, Be The Mom will be released August 2012. You can connect with Tracey at www.momlifetoday.com, her personal site www.traceyster.com or www.twitter/momblog.com.

12 Pearls of Christmas - Day 8

2011-12-21T11:54:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

***

Enjoy the Ride!

Susan May Warren

We sit poised on the top of a cliff, a near drop off before us, that falls to a rushing river. In the middle, a bridge of snow and ice hints at our destination. My husband guns the snowmobile engine. “Ready?”

Ready? For a face plant into a tree, maybe reconstructive surgery? To feel my stomach ripped from my body as we plummet down the mountain? Let’s do it!

We live on five acres of woods in northern Minnesota that butts up to a national forest. Hence, our backyard is about a hundred thousand acres. Aside from harboring deer, lynx, fox, cougar and bear, it also makes excellent snowmobile terrain. And not long ago, Mrs. Claus gave her Santa a snowmobile for two.

I love snowmobiling. Flying over the snow, catching air over drifts. I love to drive, to be at the helm of the beast as I weave around trees and over hill and dale, my husband sitting behind me. I also love riding behind my husband as he drives, feeling those powerful arms as he’s muscling the snowmobile into the wilds. We follow unknown trails, driven by a Magellan spirit, hoping that we have enough gas to get us back to civilization. I love hanging on, simply trusting him, knowing that wherever he’s taking me, he’s going first.

But there are times, when I see where he’s taking me, and I just have to bury my head in his back. Like straight down a cliff.

However, my heart cheers, despite the terror as we gun it down the hill, over the river, up the opposite side. And, if we hadn’t let ourselves go, we would have never discovered the beauty of a winter river, a hidden jewel buried deep in the forest. Nor the exhilaration of facing the challenge together.

Further on, we find an enchanted forest of towering white pine. Catch a view of Lake Superior, discover an old cabin in the woods.

It occurs to me that snowmobiling is much like my spiritual life. Occasionally, I drive, and it’s me setting our course, weaving through the trees, getting us hopelessly lost. But when God takes the “wheel” and I hang on, trusting Him for the speed and destination, I see the scenery. I trust him to keep me safe. I trust him to bring me home, where there is an eternal supply of hot chocolate.

As Christmas season becomes more hectic, what if I let God drive? Maybe everything doesn’t have to be perfect, and maybe I don’t have to control every tradition, every holiday nuance. What if I just held on for the ride?

I’ll bet I’ll still get there, and I might even enjoy the scenery along the way.

How have you let go, and “enjoyed” the scenery of this hectic, exhilarating Christmas season?

Merry Christmas!

***

Susan May Warren is the RITA award-winning author of thirty novels with Tyndale, Barbour, Steeple Hill and Summerside Press. 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 Carol Award. A seasoned women’s events 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.

Christmas & Church services on Sunday are you Attending

2011-12-21T11:31:00.003-07:00

I know before I write anything this is going to be a controversial subject. Before we hit fall many pastors were tweeting about what churches were going to do on Christmas day, even saying that some were not holding service and how "sad" that was. Christ said that the Sabbath was made for man not man for the Sabbath, yet in modern day Christianity we seem to get all tied in knots over it. Me personally I think it's ridiculous! Sunday is called the day of rest yet it is anything but! Have you tried to get yourself and small children out the door for church, and get dinner in a crock pot on Sunday morning? You need to be up at the crack of dawn. That is not restful! Add Christmas on top of it and you have complete and utter chaos! Kids will be diving for the Christmas gifts under the tree and parents will be pushing them out the door for church. Then it is getting back after church and cooking the big holiday meal. Don't get me wrong I am not anti-church, I attend every Sunday. Our church is having a candle light service Christmas-eve and a combined service on Christmas day. I think personally going as a family to the candle light service Christmas-eve and spending the day together on Christmas is a better solution than fussing around on Christmas day to allow kids to open a few gifts, get them dressed in perfect Christmas wear, and out the door.

12 Pearls of Christmas: Day 7

2011-12-20T10:37:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

Family Traditions: A Glimpse into Christmas Future

by Tricia Goyer

Have you ever thought about family traditions? As I helped my 1-year-old place ornaments on the Christmas tree this year I imagined her doing the same thing with her children—and maybe even grandchildren—one day. Traditions are beliefs and customs handed down through generations. By sharing meaningful moments with your kids you're sending yourself into the future. How amazing is that?

Sharing family traditions cause us to slow down from the busy, adult world for a while. We ignore the laundry to set out the nativity set with our kids. We set aside time in our schedules to drive around and look at Christmas lights.

Holiday traditions aren't only fun, they also help strength family bonds. Through traditions kids trust in the security of family unit. They think, “This is our family and this is what I do.” Of course, the most important thing to share isn't just what we do ... but why. Why do we put out a nativity? To remind us the real meaning of the season—Jesus coming to earth. What do the Christmas lights represent displayed on homes and on trees? They represent the Light of the World, Jesus.

Using traditions to bond our families and share our faith isn't new. I love these two Scriptures that talk about that very thing.

Exodus 12:25 says, “When you enter the land that the LORD will give you as he promised, observe this ceremony.”

Psalm 78:4 says, “We will not hide them from their children; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD, his power, and the wonders he has done.”

What are you're traditions? Here are a few of ours:

Baking a Birthday cake for Jesus

Buying a new ornament every year for each child

Acting out the Christmas story (with props!)

Praying together before opening presents

What are your traditions? Write a list and appreciate them in a new way this year. Then ask, “If I could add one new tradition this holiday season, what would it be?” I'd love to hear what you choose! It also makes me smile to think of your children's grandchildren doing the same.

***

Tricia Goyer is a CBA best-selling author and the winner of two American Christian Fiction Writers’ Book of the Year Awards (Night Song and Dawn of a Thousand Nights). She co-wrote 3:16 Teen Edition with Max Lucado and contributed to the Women of Faith Study Bible. Also a noted marriage and parenting writer, she lives with her husband and children in Arkansas. www.triciagoyer.com

12 Pearls Of Christmas

2011-12-19T11:20:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

Let The Baby Grow Up This Christmas

By Shellie Tomlinson

When I was a little girl, Christmas seemed to take forever to make its way back to our little house on the end of a dirt road called Bull Run in northeast Louisiana. We kids started counting down the days before the leaves ever began turning. Sure, the adults said it came once a year but I wasn't so sure. Once Santa Claus left our humble abode it seemed like light years before he found his way back to the Delta.

That was a child's perspective. I imagine it hasn't changed all that much for today's kids. On the other hand, I'm operating under a completely different time frame these days. It seems like it was just yesterday when I pulled the boxes down from the attic and began pulling out the nativity scene, the miniature lights, and the keepsake ornaments. And now, just that fast-- Christmas Day is right around the corner. Soon the tree will be striped naked and the piled up presents will all be distributed. After a few more day it'll be hard to remember who got what from whom, and once again, I'll start packing all the decorations away for another year.

I was thinking about how bare and cold the house always looks after the holidays when I realized that, sadly, this scene would play itself out in many hearts as well. A lot of people will have had expectations that weren't filled and many of those same souls will be left with hurts that don't seem to heal. Unless this year is remarkably different from past seasons, my bet is, the New Year will bring magazines full of articles on combating depression and the talk shows will have experts on offering ways to fill the long days ahead and cure the winter blues.

I'm no expert, dear readers, but I'd like to offer you a suggestion that will go far beyond the creature comforts of a nice warm bath or a delicious bowl of hot soup. Your heart doesn't have to be bare and naked after the holidays. Do you want to know the real secret? It's simple, really. Don't pack up Christ with Christmas! As beautiful and special as the Christmas story is, it's only a part of heaven's miracle. The Christ child grew into a man and the man became a Savior.

This year, may we be determined to let the babe from Bethlehem live on in our hearts. If we'll allow Him to become the Messiah He was born to be, the joy of Christmas can be ours all year long.

***

Shellie Rushing Tomlinson is an author, speaker, and radio host from Louisiana. Her latest release Sue Ellen's Girl Ain't Fat, She Just Weighs Heavy was endorsed by Jeff Foxworthy as "laugh out loud funny!" You can find Shellie's weekly southern features, podcasts, video chats and more at http://www.allthingssouthern.com/ Make sure to get by the blog and read about the Super Christmas Giveaway Shellie is hosting for her readers and secure your chance to win a Mort Kunstler print valued between $700 and $1400. www.allthingssouthern.com

Anessia's Quest

2011-12-19T11:02:00.000-07:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Karen Arnpriester

and the book:

Anessia's Quest

CreateSpace (January 18, 2011)

***Special thanks to Karen Arnpriester for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Karen Slimick Arnpriester is a creative, passionate and adventuresome woman. She raised her two children, adores her seven grandchildren and is now a foster mom of two young ladies. She has been a self-taught graphic designer for twenty five years and started her own business twenty years ago. Her faith in God is strong and she believes that we are Christ's hands, feet, arms and wallet. This translates into her involvement in youth ministries, local women's shelter, street ministry, the elderly, as well as many other outreaches over the years. Her home has been available to single moms and their children, allowing them to get a fresh start.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Anessia’s Quest follows the life of a woman born into dysfunction and neglect. The story takes you on her journey. A journey that begins with abandonment, abuse, and physical injury. Pagne (Pain) believes she is all alone, thrown away, but soon discovers that she is protected and guided by her guardian angel. A powerful relationship develops between this lost child and her loving protector that manifests as a unique method of communication.

Pagne encounters other broken people that become her family, friends and community. Her grace and compassion alter their destructive paths. She moves through her life unaware of the impact she creates, her purpose on Earth.

Her life is filled with tears, laughter, joy and heartbreak. She faces challenges that include ultimate betrayal, loss and shame. Challenges that are only bearable due to her trust and faith in heaven’s love and value for her. Love that is reinforced by her angel. She discovers the events that led to her mother’s indifference and neglect, and must decide how much grace she can extend to a woman she has hated for most of her life. The ultimate test of forgiveness.

When she faces her death, Pagne discovers the true value and power of forgiveness and love. She is shown how her life created ripples that spread into waves of glorious influence. She was not an accident, she was placed on Earth with divine intent.

Product Details:

List Price: $11.95

Paperback: 302 pages

Publisher: CreateSpace (January 18, 2011)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1456504363

ISBN-13: 978-1456504366

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

IN THE HEAVENS

Psalms 91:11

“For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways;”

Draken walked swiftly through the marble passageway, which was only lit by a warm, golden glow that’s source was undefinable. The excitement was building, as he weaved his way through the network of stone halls, intricate stained glass panels, and vines with incredible cobalt and purple blossoms. Each flower’s center had a spray of tendrils that shimmered and flickered with light. They pushed their way in through small openings and cracks, covering the ancient stone walls with their winding tendrils. He had the ability to instantly think himself to her, but instead he savored the journey through the tabernacle. As Draken entered the great hall, he sent groups of colorful butterflies

scattering. Some of the butterflies were tiny and flashed bright yellow and orange light, while others were massive and moved almost as in slow motion. Their deep-purple and metallic gold wings didn’t shine brightly like the others, but had a velvety luster that picked up the room’s light with each flutter. The spaces in between were filled with every size and color of these delicate creatures. This room never failed to take Draken’s breath away. There were sculptures in exquisite detail, cast or carved from every precious metal and stone, encrusted with jewels and pearls. Above him were strings of glowing orbs that didn’t appear to be connected in any way, glistening shades of pink, lavender, blue and green. Beautiful birds of every description dove and soared in the upper dome. Draken would spend hours in this room, simply appreciating its beauty.

As he came upon an area of comfortable chairs, he saw Anessia sitting on the hard floor in her usual position, both legs folded under her with feet twisted out to the sides. She would sit this way for hours.

“When will you ever discover the comfort of these lush chairs?” he teased her.

She just grinned and said, “Probably never.” Draken just shook his head. She liked the coolness of the stone floor on her skin.

Draken sat down in his favorite chair, a opulent purple satin with three times the stuffing most chairs would contain. He waited for her to speak, but silence. After a few anxious minutes, he could wait no longer.

“Well, Anessia. You summoned me here. You said you were ready.”

She hesitated, she seemed unsure for a moment and then handed him the delicate gold scroll. Draken, a regal man with long white hair and a full beard, took the scroll and fingered it gently, knowing the importance of its content. He took a deep breath and looked into Anessia’s eyes. He loved her eyes, so large, so engulfing.

“I am ready,” is all she said. Draken felt the contradiction of relief and dread. This would be a difficult quest, filled with many hardships and pain.

“You will have a lot of sadness to deal with, but you were selected with the

knowledge that you are capable. You have a strong sense of justice and love.”

“Oh, Draken, I want to make a difference, to be part of these miracles!”

“Once you leave, you realize you will not be able to change your mind. The quest will not be recalled,” he reminded her.

“I totally understand. I know that I can do this. I know I can make you and our Father proud. I believe I am the one to help fulfill the destiny described in the scroll.”

Draken truly adored Anessia and her tender heart, but she was fierce, one of the most committed wards he had responsibility for. He also knew that the quest was a journey filled with love, joy and an incredible outcome.

“I will make the arrangements. Prepare yourself, your time here is short.” They both came to a stand, and with a hug and a kiss on her head, Draken disappeared to carry out the necessary details.

Anessia stood alone and waited until she was sure Draken had left the chamber. She could contain herself no longer. She spun around, her hair flowing and gleaming in the light that was radiating down from above. It was wonderful to have a destiny. She giggled and hugged herself. Anessia then mentally willed her beautiful wings to engage, and she flew out of the windows near the top of the upper dome.

She didn’t have to fly very far; there, by the glimmering pools, was Ennett. She slowly dropped down behind him, so quietly that he didn’t know she was there. Anessia crept slowly behind him and jumped back as Ennett whirled around. But not quick enough, his folded wings smacked her in the face. “Oh Ennett, I thought I got you this time,” she said, as she rubbed her cheek.

“Do you forget that I can read your thoughts? You need to work on shutting down that brain of yours when you plan to attack,” he pouted at her, while touching her tender cheek. They both laughed and sat down on the cool grass next to the pools of crystal clear water. They slipped their feet in and giggled loudly, as the fish nibbled their toes. Anessia loved the landscape outside the main tabernacle. It had sumptuous gardens, streams, and trees that bore delicious fruits. Flowers of every size, color and scent. Some were deep shades that were fuzzy and glimmered, while others were tucked under the shade of the trees with transparent petals that glowed with pulsing light. The aromas were so delicious.

She couldn’t count the different species of animals that roamed through the gardens. Every visit was a new discovery. These unique and exotic creatures would wander the gardens and come when beckoned, allowing her to pet and love on them.

“Well, I am assuming that it is time?”

“Yes, it is,” she acknowledged.

“Anessia, it is a different realm there,” he warned. “There is darkness,

despair and pain.”

“I know, I can do this. Draken and our Father do not send me to fail.”

“I have faith in you, but please be careful!”

They both sat quietly for a short time. “I need to go prepare,” whispered Anessia.

“I love you Anessia, I will be here for you always.” They held each other for what felt like an eternity but it was only moments in another time.

CHAPTER 1

Leah thought she could bear it no longer … why didn’t this baby come out? She had been pushing and writhing here for hours, hurting so bad that she wanted to die. Finally, the nurse came in and said she was ready to have the baby. Leah knew that she would have feelings for this kid eventually, but right now, she almost hated it. They wheeled her into delivery, and after thirty more minutes, the miracle of birth happened. A little, white skinned, red-haired girl with blue eyes. She looked at her and felt numb. She may have connected better if the baby had looked like her. If she had gotten her golden skin, dark, curly hair and chestnut brown eyes. This baby looked like a stray, not her kid.

Leah had endured a difficult life and tried to bury it with alcohol, drugs and sex. During her drunken months of pregnancy, she thought it would be funny to name her baby girl Champagne, after her favorite beverage. Champagne Marie Crenshaw. Champagne would carry her mother’s last name since Leah didn’t know which John was the proud papa. Leah had considered having another abortion, but this time was different. This baby would change her life, she just knew it. Leah wanted to be loved and wanted someone to love. She convinced herself that she could be a mom. When Leah was in her seventh month, she had stopped hooking and left Los Angeles. She moved north for

a fresh start. Champagne was to find out quickly that her mom would fail miserably at being a mother. She also would find out that there was someone watching over her, protecting her.

When the hospital determined that Leah was ready to be released, she was indignant and annoyed. Three days was not nearly long enough if you asked Leah. She figured she deserved and could use at least another week of leisure and strong pain meds while the nurses cared for Champagne. Upon leaving the hospital, she brought the baby back to the disgusting motel room that Leah managed to rent with her assistance checks. Leah figured they would do okay since the amount written on those checks would increase with the birth of Champagne. She might have been able to afford a nicer place, but the majority of her money went for her alcohol and drugs. How was she going to take care of a baby all by herself?, she thought. Looking around the room, Leah realized that she should have prepared a little more for the baby. She pulled out a drawer, dumped it, and laid Champagne in it. The strong pain meds were wearing off, and they had only prescribed glorified aspirin as far as Leah was concerned. Luckily she had stopped on the way home to pick up a big bottle of cheap wine.

“Well brat, guess the closest I’ll come to champagne for awhile is changing your crappy diapers.” She laughed to herself, “That was a good one Leah … you haven’t lost your dazzling wit yet.”

~

Several years crawled by, and somehow, Champagne had survived her mother’s indifference. On one summer evening, Leah finally could not take it any longer, the pounding on the door was killing her head. What a hang-over she had. When she jerked the door open, she looked into the chest of a police officer. Behind him stood her neighbor, Miss Nose Up My Butt. She could tell this wasn’t good by the smirk on Miss Butt’s face.

“We got a call that you have a toddler playing unattended on the landing,” said the officer.

“Well, I don’t see no kid out here, do you?” shot back Leah.

“Not at the moment, but your neighbor called quite concerned. She said that it is not unusual to see your front door wide open and your small daughter playing out here by the stairs. Do you understand how dangerous that is?”

“Well yes, Officer, I do. I’m not an idiot. I am always just inside the door, watching her every move. The kid has gotta have some fresh air and sunshine right?”

“Ma’am, unless you use better judgment and find a safer place for your daughter to play, we will be back out with Child Services,” threatened the Officer.

“Okay. I will figure out something.”

The officer filled out his paperwork and handed Leah her copy. “This call will be documented.” He held the paper for a delayed moment, while making eye contact with Leah.

“Thank you Officer,” Leah said sarcastically as she snatched it from his hand.

As the officer moved down the stairs, Leah looked over at Miss Butt as she was turning to head back to her door. Leah smiled a big smile at her and then flipped her off with both hands, followed by slamming the door as loud as possible.

“Thanks Pagne, just what I needed.” She glared at her sweet face and grumbled, “Worthless brat.” Leah had decided that when Champagne was a year old, she did not deserve the name Champagne. She hadn’t improved Leah’s life, but complicated it. Leah called her Pagne, which was pronounced as “Pain.” The fact that she was showing signs of freckles to go with the red hair from her nameless father didn’t help either. Leah hated freckles with a passion. Leah plopped down on the ratty couch that folded out to their bed, and turned on the TV as she filled a tumbler with wine.

Leah’s lust for drinking would not allow her to survive on the meager assistance she received, so she began hooking again shortly after Pagne was born. Pagne’s childhood was a whirlwind of her mother’s customers, late nights, and the consequences of being the child of an alcoholic. One thing was consistent, an anchor that Pagne could rely on, her mother’s total disregard for her. Pagne was forced to be self-sufficient. She kept herself clean, got herself ready for school, and made sure the trash in the room didn’t pile up too high.

When Pagne was eight years old, Adam Williams was her mother’s new flavor of the month … good looking, funny and he actually had a job. Nice change for Leah. Adam always brought a bottle of quality champagne for her and Jack Daniels for him. A few drinks, some laughs and then …. “Good lovin’,” as her mother would say. Leah considered him a boyfriend, so she didn’t charge him for her company. Pagne learned to keep out of the way when Adam or other men were there. The close quarters of the motel room made it difficult, but Pagne would lock the bathroom door and climb into the tub, pretending she was in a boat heading to a strange new land.

Pagne would also read with a passion. She loved stories about fairies, far away places, or brave characters who saved the day. She read whatever she could bring home from school. Her mom certainly wouldn’t take the time to take her to the library or buy a book. When the tub was too disgusting to get into, Pagne would pile up any dirty laundry on the floor and make a nest. The width of the floor space fit her and the nest perfectly. She wished the walls were more sound proof though. The loud laughing and the noises they made when her mother had sex with the men made it hard for her to read, pretend or sleep. Pagne wasn’t sure what they were doing, but she felt uncomfortable hearing them. Sometimes, the men that Leah brought home would hit her. Pagne knew to stay very quiet. She didn’t want them to know she was there. Some mornings, Leah’s face would be swollen and bruised. When Pagne would look at her with concern, Leah would shrug and say, “Comes with the territory.”

Adam never hit her mom. He would always bring Pagne a toy or candy when he came over. He was nice enough but something made her uneasy about him. He didn’t do anything bad, but he always wanted Pagne to sit on his lap. She didn’t like it, and she wasn’t sure why. Even her mom didn’t like it. Leah would jerk Pagne up off of him and plop herself down on his lap, while giving Pagne the evil eye. Leah didn’t realize how grateful Pagne was for removing her from the awkward situation.

Even at the age of eight, Pagne was independent. She could get her own breakfast and lunch, toaster pastries or cold cereal. It wasn’t so bad when the milk hadn’t soured, but usually she ate the cereal dry. She did get free hot lunches at school when she started first grade. Leah wasn’t hungry until late evening, since she drank her meals during the day. She would throw something together for dinner, but in her drunken stupor, usually burnt it. Pagne didn’t eat much. She didn’t talk much either, and doctors thought it was because of Leah’s frequent drinking during her pregnancy. But, according to Pagne, she just didn’t have anything much to say.

One hot summer evening, Leah had drank herself into a stupor and passed out on the bathroom floor, leaving Pagne alone with Adam. He grinned at her and turned on cartoons. Their TV only had three channels. Luckily, one was cartoons ... most of the time. Pagne loved cartoons. She could watch them all day and just pretend she lived in the TV with them where she could fly like a super hero. Adam sat down in the old recliner and motioned for Pagne to come over to him. When she came close, he reached out and grabbed her by the waist and pulled her up on his lap.

“Your mommy is outta service, so maybe Adam and Pagne will have some fun? You wanna play with me, sweetheart?” Her instincts told her that this was not good. Adam’s breath stunk so bad from the liquor. She felt his arms tighten around her. Pagne began to whimper and tried to pull away. Adam was whispering and sputtering spit into her ear.

“Be quiet. I’m not going to hurt you. Trust me, you’ll like it ... well, I will.” She felt one hand slipping between her thighs and the other sliding up her belly, lifting up her t-shirt. Pagne brought her leg up and slammed down hard, kicking him in the shin with her heel. He grabbed onto her even tighter, squeezing her painfully. She kicked his shin again, and this time he let go. As he grabbed at his leg, Pagne was able to slip off his lap and headed to the front door. Adam came up out of the chair and lunged at her, screaming out with anger and pain. He was behind her and grabbed onto her arms. It hurt terribly. She was kicking and screaming. Pagne’s screams woke up Leah, and she came stumbling into the room, yelling for Adam to shut the brat up. She was confused when she saw Adam and Pagne struggling by the door.

“What the hell is going on?” She bellowed.

Adam released Pagne and spun around to Leah. “Nuthin, kid just went nuts on me, she tried to run away.” It took a few minutes for Leah’s drunken brain to absorb the situation. “So my little Pagne didn’t wanna play with you huh?” Leah showed no reaction while she tried to remain standing. She managed to focus on Pagne’s face and gave her the most hateful glare Pagne had seen her manage. Pagne pulled open the front door and ran out, tears filling her eyes and clouding her vision. Through her tears, Pagne thought she saw white wings fluttering around her. Then black.

When Pagne woke up, she hurt all over. Every part of her was bruised and sore. Her head was pounding with pain. She could hear voices but she didn’t want to open her eyes. She would hear a sweet lady’s voice speaking to her at times. She was curious about the woman, but decided it was better to pretend that she was somewhere else. Sleep, she just wanted to sleep. It didn’t hurt so bad when she slept. In her dreams she could fly with wonderful white wings, as others flew around her. Laughing, dipping, gliding ...

Pagne woke up to her mother’s voice close to her ear. “You gotta wake up. What am I going to do with a brain-dead kid? I can’t deal with this Pagne. Wake up now!” Pagne opened her eyes and looked at her mother. Her face was not haggard and worn from worry, but the familiar face of someone hung over. Leah’s breath reeked of wine. “Well it’s about time. What took you so long ... sweetheart?” Sweetheart was thrown in for the benefit of the nurse who just walked in. “Me and Adam have been worried sick. You scared your mama something awful.” As the nurse finished her duties and left the room, Leah moved in really close, so only Pagne could hear. “Pagne, they think Adam hurt you. We both know that’s a big fat lie, right? The police are going to talk to you. Mommy can’t lose Adam, baby. You gotta fix this.”

Later that day, several officers and a very nervous skinny woman named Miss Lament, came into Pagne’s room. The officers tried to be friendly and had a teddy bear with them. It was very cute, and Pagne found it oddly comforting to hug. Miss Lament, who didn’t smile and had very tiny, beady eyes was trying to ask Pagne what happened with Adam. Pagne decided she didn’t have anything to say. She knew that Adam was a bad man, but even at her tender age, Pagne intuitively understood that it was her mother’s truth. Leah needed him.

The officers and Miss Lament left very frustrated. Her mother had been waiting in the hall and slipped in. “Good girl. Now we just have to convince the judge. We’re going to move in with Adam once this whole mess is cleared up. He’s going to take care of both of us. Won’t that be nice. We’ll be a family real soon!” Pagne didn’t respond. “We hit the jackpot, baby,” cooed Leah.

That evening, the sweet-talking nurse was on duty. She was taking Pagne’s temperature and adjusted her tubing. While she worked, she talked softly to Pagne, assuring her that she would be fine. As she turned to leave, Pagne grabbed her hand, squeezing it tight. The nurse, who’s nametag said “Mrs. Greenly,” looked into Pagne’s eyes. She saw fear and worry in them. She asked, “What’s wrong, hon? You in pain?” Pagne took a deep breath and spoke in a whisper for the first time since waking up.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Oh honey, no one has told you what’s going on? Well, I’m not sure why, but you ran out your front door, and then you fell down three flights of cement stairs. You broke your leg, your arm, cracked your head, and have lots of bumps and bruises. You are very lucky that you didn’t hurt yourself even worse. I believe you have a guardian angel, dear. Yep, an angel that cushioned your fall. We all have an angel, you know. Talk to mine sometimes, when I’m sad or scared. You should thank your angel for protecting you. They have a thankless job!”

Pagne managed to ask when she would be going home. “You should be able to go home in a few days,” the nurse answered. With that news, Pagne began to weep softly. “Oh sweetheart, that’s not that far away.” She looked into Pagne’s face and realized this was something different. “Don’t you want to go home?” Pagne just closed her eyes and let go of the sweet nurses hand.

After she left, Pagne whispered quietly, “Thank you.” She did see wings, she was sure of it.

Pagne laid in her bed, a cast on right arm, a cast on her left leg, bandages here and there, and a dull headache. Her mom was filling out all the paperwork for her release. Leah looked at the prescriptions for Pagne and was grumbling that nothing was strong enough to do her much good. “The least they could do is give us Valium.” Several nurses entered the room and helped Pagne into a wheelchair, Pagne’s doctor and a police officer walked into the room. “Now Miss Crenshaw, there are some requirements you must meet to have your daughter home with you,” said the officer. “This Adam Williams is not to be within 300 yards of your daughter or your residence.”

“But he didn’t do anything,” Leah insisted.

“That might be, but until the judge makes his determination, the restraining order is in effect,” the officer responded.

“Yes, of course,” Leah said with attitude.

Pagne’s doctor stepped toward Leah and began speaking. “Here is the treatment plan for Champagne’s after care. Her therapy is crucial if she is to have a full recovery. I also want to stress that she will need a balanced, healthy diet and a safe, clean environment. Obviously the stairs will present a safety issue, have you made arrangements for assistance?”

“Yes, I have taken care of everything necessary,” lied Leah.

“Mrs. Crenshaw, a child services worker will be checking in,” reminded the officer.

“Yes, I know, another person up my butt. Can we leave now?”

“Yes, you may. But remember, your court appearance is at three o’clock today. We will remove Champagne from your care if you fail to appear.”

“Yes, I know, I know,” replied Leah with total disrespect to the officer.

The nurses put Pagne into a cab for the ride home while Leah had a cigarette. Once her nicotine fix was complete, she climbed into the cab next to Pagne. She shot the nurses a hard glare when their faces revealed their disapproval of her indifference. Pagne quietly sat while her mom went on and on about their new life with Adam. Leah talked about how Adam really cared about them, how happy they would all be together, and how Adam would bring money into the house. She could quit hooking, she thought to herself. Leah finally shut up and drifted into her fantasy of a wonderful future with Adam.

Pagne considered telling her mother what Adam had done, but she was a smart girl. She knew there was no point, her mother already knew. When they got to the hotel, Leah struggled to get Pagne upstairs, cursing with each step. Once inside the room, Pagne looked around and wasn’t surprised to see that everything the doctor had listed was not done. Pagne hopped over to the couch and sat in silence.

“Wanna toaster pastry doll? Know how much you love them.” Pagne shook her head and turned on the TV.

A few minutes later, there was a tap on the door. Leah opened it and Adam’s head popped in.

“Hey, my two favorite girls. Just wanted to stop by and bring Pagne a get well gift.” It was a tin of mints from the liquor store down the street and a car air freshener in the shape of a rose.

“What did you bring mama?” asked Leah with a little girl voice and giggle. Adam slipped a big bottle of champagne around the door.

“Can I come in for awhile?” he asked.

“No baby, not till the court says it’s okay. My neighbor next door has big ears and eyes. This should all be resolved this afternoon, you gotta be patient.” Leah laughed as Adam tried to grope her through the opening. “We’ll all be together soon,” assured Leah. Adam looked over at Pagne and winked with a disgusting lick of his lips.

“Okay, but I miss you guys. Good to have you back with us, Pagne.” Pagne turned the TV volume up and turned away to look at the screen.

“She’ll warm up to ya, baby, just give her some time. I’ll call when I get out of court.” Leah closed the door giggling. She looked over at Pagne, wanting to share the joy. Pagne could feel her eyes on her, but she didn’t respond.

~

Pagne was very nervous sitting in the courtroom, waiting to find out what was expected of her. Everyone was so serious, except her mother. She was whispering insulting comments about everyone. Sticks up their you know what’s … and other such childish remarks. When it was their turn to appear before the judge, Leah bounced up, flicking her hair. Once she was at the front, she realized that Pagne was still struggling to get out of her seat. She smiled and loudly proclaimed … “It’s okay baby, Mommy is here.” She went back, and very graciously, helped Pagne into the aisle. Pagne was impressed by her performance. Once she made it to the front, Pagne sat at the table facing the judge.

Leah began by explaining that this whole thing was a misunderstanding. She said that Pagne had been throwing a temper-tantrum, and Adam was trying to keep her from running out of the room. When the judge asked if she had been in the room at the time, she admitted that she had not because she was suffering from one of her migraines and was laying on the bathroom floor for relief. “The cool tile is soothing,” she explained.

Pagne’s doctor was called forward, and he described the extensive bruising on Pagne’s thighs, chest and arms. Obviously, a large man’s handprints could clearly be seen in the photos they were showing. Leah did not have any explanation for the bruises. The judge looked at Pagne and asked if she had anything she wanted to say. Pagne just looked out the windows at the beautiful blue sky, wishing she could fly away.

The lawyer, representing Pagne’s interests, made a good case that the events before her fall were clearly assault and possibly molestation. The judge agreed, and the restraining order was to stand pending further investigation. Adam had been picked up and interviewed after Pagne was admitted into the hospital. He wasn’t arrested, but did have a court date.

Leah went into a rage. “This is ridiculous, you are punishing a good man, my man, for something that was very innocent. This isn’t fair,” she yelled.

“Well, Miss Crenshaw, if you want to have your daughter in your home, you must honor the restraining order. If you disregard the order, Champagne will be placed in the care of the state until this case is resolved,” responded the judge with obvious distain.

“Well, I don’t think me and Adam should suffer because of this brat. We have a life to start. You guys can deal with her,” Leah said as she looked at Pagne in disgust. Leah then turned and walked out of the courtroom.

Everyone stood there in shock, not knowing what to say or do. Pagne

hobbled over to the window and allowed one tear to roll down her face, just one. Then she looked to the skies and flew far away.

I really enjoyed this book!

12 Pearls of Christmas

2011-12-16T11:44:00.001-07:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Babbie Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

Where is Comfort and Joy Found?

By Sandy Ralya

The year 2006 ushered unwelcome emotions into my life. My husband was unhappy in his job, two of my grown children were making poor choices, my mother-in-law was showing signs of Alzheimer’s, extended-family issues were surfacing, and I was writing a book. Things only got worse. Much worse.

Early in 2007, I was asked to represent the mentoring ministry for wives I founded, Beautiful Womanhood, and lead a women’s conference in Uganda, Africa. My husband wasn’t sure if traveling to Africa was a good idea, so we committed it to prayer. While we were listening for an answer, I sensed God asking me to fast from spending, except for groceries, for thirty days. Sometimes you know that you’ve heard God’s voice because you’d never have come up with those words on your own. This was one of those times. I’d never heard of a fast from spending. Tom needed no convincing that a fast from spending came directly from the mouth of God. He still gets excited just thinking about it!

During the fast, it became clear I had used spending as a way to gain a comfort fix. When I was spending money, I felt carefree and lighthearted. Instead of dwelling on the unpleasantness in my life, I was thinking of my purchases and how they would bring me pleasure. Not until I stopped spending did I realize how short-lived the fix really was. During the fast, when I felt the urge to spend—to anesthetize my pain—I pictured myself running into the arms of Jesus, the Great Comforter. Oh, what comfort I received!

One night, I told good friends my experience of gaining comfort through the power of the Holy Spirit rather than money. I exclaimed that I had never felt so comforted. One friend then told us about a dream he’d had shortly after hearing about the invitation from Uganda. After the dream, he had awoken and recorded the following thoughts:

“. . . this is for Sandy. Christ’s redemption of women is beautiful. Beautiful Womanhood is a result of redemptive wholeness. The visuals the ministry uses on the books, etc., are like a piece of beautifully veneered furniture. There is something going on with the ministry to the brokenness of abused women. In Uganda, there are hurting, abused women, and something is connecting their need and Beautiful Womanhood. Though there is nothing wrong with veneer, it is only the topping—the covering, and without good structure it is shallow and will not hold up. It is time to add a new depth to the ministry.”

Then these verses came to my friend’s mind:

All praise to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. He is the source of every mercy and the God who comforts us. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When others are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. You can be sure that the more we suffer for Christ, the more God will shower us with his comfort through Christ. 2 Corinthians 1:3-5 NL

When my friend was finished sharing, everyone in the room broke down in tears, praising God for His work in my life. I’d learned to listen and God had spoken. I’d obeyed, and He’d acted. When He acted, I was changed.

Needless to say, I packed my bags and experienced some of the best days of my life in Uganda—offering God’s comfort to His troubled women.

***

Sandy and her husband Tom have been married since 1980 and live near Grand Rapids, Michigan. They have three adult children and a growing number of grandchildren. When not writing and speaking, Sandy enjoys shopping at yard sales for vintage clothing, cooking, travelling, and drinking really good coffee (black is best) with her husband. For more information, contact Sandy at sandy@beautifulwomanhood.com. Subscribe to Sandy’s blog at www.beautifulwomanhood.com/blog. Find Sandy on Facebook at Beautiful Womanhood. Follow Sandy on Twitter @MentoringWives.

12 Pearls of Christmas Day 3

2011-12-15T11:28:00.001-07:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

Advent
By Sibella Giorello

Consider the bride's walk down the aisle. We all know where that woman in the white is going but somehow waiting for her to arrive at the altar is an essential part of the ceremony. In fact, the waiting is so essential that even cheapskate Vegas chapels include wedding marches.

Why?

Because the wait adds meaning to the moment.

At Christmas time, we tend to forget this essential truth about anticipation. We're lost to shopping malls and checklists, rushing toward December 25th so quickly that we forget the quiet joy of the month's other 24 days -- and then we wonder why we feel so empty on the 26th, amid ribbons and wrapping paper and our best intentions.

Because the wait adds meaning to the moment.

And that is why Advent is so important to Christmas.

I'm as guilty as the next harried person. This Advent was particularly tricky because just six hours before it started, I was still trying to finish a 110,000-word novel that was written over the course of the year -- written while homeschooling my kids, keeping my hubby happy, and generally making sure the house didn't fall down around us.

It's an understatement to say my free time is limited. But waiting adds meaning, and Advent is crucial to Christmas, so I've devised several Advent traditions that are simple, powerful and easy to keep even amid the seasonal rush.

When my kids outgrew the simple Advent calendars around age 7, I stole an idea from my writer friend Shelly Ngo (as T.S. Eliot said, "Mediocre writers borrow. Great writers steal." Indulge me.)

Here's how it goes: Find 24 great Christmas books, wrap them individually and place then under the tree. On the first day of Advent, take turns picking which book to open. When we did this, we would cuddle under a blanket and read aloud -- oh, the wonder, the magic! We savored "The Polar Express," howled with "How Murray Saved Christmas," and fell silent at the end of "The Tale of The Three Trees" (note: some of the picture books I chose were not explicitly about Christmas but they always echoed the message that Jesus came to earth to save us from ourselves and to love us beyond our wildest imagination. In that category, Angela Hunt's retelling of The Three Trees definitely hits the Yuletide bull's eye).

This Advent tradition lasted for about five years. It gave us rich daily discussions about the season's real meaning, without being religious or legalistic, and it increased family couch time. But like the lift-the-flap calendars, my kids outgrew the picture books.

Because the wait adds meaning, and Advent is crucial, I prayed for another way to celebrate anticipation of Christmas. By the grace of God, last year I found an enormous Advent calendar on clearance at Pottery Barn. Made of burlap, it has large pockets big enough to hold some serious bounty.

But my husband and I didn't want the kids focusing only on the materialist stuff for Advent -- we already fight that on Christmas day. We decided to fill the daily pockets with simple necessities and small gift cards. We also printed out the nativity story from Luke 2:1-21 in a large-sized font and cut each verse out. From Day 1 to Day 21, there is one verse to read aloud. The kids memorize it, then get to open their present (again, on alternating days for each person). Then we tape the verse to the wall in order. By Day 22, all the verses are on the wall, in order, and the kids now try to recite the entire nativity story from memory. That's not as difficult as it sounds because they've been memorizing one verse each day. Still, the entire recitation -- verbatim -- usually requires Day 23 and Day 24. Whoever does memorize the entire thing -- without mistakes -- earns a bonus gift of $25.

Does that sounds extravagant?

It is.

Because we want our kids to understand that God came down and humbled himself and taught us about love right before He suffered and died on behalf of the undeserving -- which is every one of us.

"That's" extravagant.

And in the waiting, we find even more meaning.

***

Sibella Giorello writes the Raleigh Harmon mystery series which won the Christy Award with its first book "The Stones Cry Out." She lives in Washington state with her husband and children, and often wishes there were 36 hours in a day.

PUMP UP YOUR BOOK! Reversible Skirt - Reviewed & Giveaway

2011-12-15T11:00:00.007-07:00

When the mother of three little girls commits suicide, their father wants more than anything to keep his family together. He remarries in haste and tells his daughters his new wife is their mother. The youngest, Laura, believes her mother must have gone through a kind of magical transformation.

Reversible Skirt is written from Laura's perspective as a child sifting through remnants of her mother's existence and struggling to fit into a community where her family's strict rules are not the norm. When Laura's father dies, her stepmother grows increasingly abusive, which propels Laura and her sisters into a lasting alliance. Their father's wish that they stay together comes true, although not in the way he'd imagined.

My Thoughts: This was a touching story, that tore at my heart. First having to deal with her mother's suicide which this young girl tries to answer Why? Then her father remarries and tells his daughters that this woman is their mother. They know that she is not because she is distant and abusive, something their mother wasn't.
This is not a feel good, fuzzy, warm book. It is an honest look at abused children and what they endure. You will gain insight and compassion for those that have gone through it.

Thanks to Laura and Pump Up Your Books I have a copy to give away. This is open to U.S. residents only. To enter you must be a follower of my blog, say so in your comment. You need to leave an email address, (at) and (dot) are fine. This will start today, Thursday, December 15th and I will use a randomizer on Thursday, December 29th to pull the winner. The winner will have 24 hrs to give me their mailing address after I contact them, or I will choose another winner.

Good Luck!

12 Pearls of Christmas

2011-12-14T10:49:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

A Christmas of Kindness

By Suzanne Woods Fisher

"You can give without loving, but you can¹t love without giving." Amish proverb

I do it every year.

I plan for a simpler, less stressful Christmas season and, every year, by Christmas Eve I'm exhausted! After our delicious and very-time-consuming-to-make traditional Swedish meal to honor my husband¹s relatives (think: Vikings), it's time to head to church. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but the last few Christmas Eve's, I have sent my husband and kids head off without me. The pull to spend an hour of quiet in the house feels as strong as a magnet.

It's odd. My children are young adults now. Wouldn't you think that Christmas would be simpler? Instead, it's just the opposite. Jugging schedules to share the grandbaby with the in-laws, trying to include our elderly parents at the best time of day for them, dancing carefully around recently divorced family members whose children are impacted by the shards of broken relationships.

The thing is: you can simplify your to-do list, but you can't really simplify people. We are just a complicated bunch.

Here's where I borrow a lesson about simplicity from the Amish. It's easy to get distracted with the buggies and the bonnets and the beards, but there's so much more to learn from these gentle people if you're willing to look a little deeper.

Yes, they live with less "stuff" and that does make for a simpler, less cluttered life. But it's the reason behind it that is so compelling to me: they seek to create margin in their life. Not just empty spacebut space that is available to nourish family, community, and faith. Their Christmas is far less elaborate than yours or mine, but what they do fill it with is oh so right.

Christmas comes quietly on an Amish farmhouse. There is no outward sign of the holiday as we know it: no bright decorations, no big tree in the living room corner. A few modest gifts are waiting for children at their breakfast place settings, covered by a dishtowel. Waiting first for Dad to read the story of Christ's birth from the book of Luke. Waiting until after a special breakfast has been enjoyed. Waiting until Mom and Dad give the signal that the time has come for gifts.

Later, if Christmas doesn't fall on a Sunday, extended family and friends will gather for another big meal. If time and weather permits, the late afternoon will be filled with ice skating or sledding. And more food! Always, always an abundance of good food. Faith, family, and community. That is the focus of an Amish Christmas.

And it's also how the story begins for A Lancaster County Christmas, as a young family prepares for Christmas. A winter storm blows a non-Amish couple, Jaime and C.J. Fitzpatrick, off-course and into the Riehl farmhouse. An unlikely and tentative friendship develops, until the one thing Mattie and Sol hold most dear disappears and then. Ah, but you¹ll just have to read the story to find out what happens next. Without giving anything away, I will say that I want to create a Mattie-inspired margin this Christmas season. Mattie knew inconveniences and interruptions that come in the form of people (big ones and little ones!) are ordained by God. And blessed by God.

Creating margin probably means that I won't get Christmas cards out until the end of January, and my house won't be uber-decorated. After all, something has to give. But it will mean I make time for a leisurely visit with my dad at his Alzheimer's facility. And time to volunteer in the church nursery for a holiday-crowded event. And time to invite a new neighbor over for coffee. Hopefully, it will mean that my energy won't get diverted by a frantic, self-imposed agenda. Only by God's agendathe essence of true simplicity.

And that includes taking time to worship Christ's coming at the Christmas Eve service. You can hold me accountable! This year, I will be there.

***

Suzanne Woods Fisher is the bestselling author of The Choice, The Waiting, The Search, and The Keeper, as well as nonfiction books about the Amish, including Amish Peace. Her interest in the Anabaptist cultures can be directly traced to her grandfather, W. D. Benedict, who was raised in the Old Order German Baptist Brethren Church in Franklin County, Pennsylvania. Suzanne is a Christy Award nominee and is the host of an internet radio show called Amish Wisdom and her work has appeared in many magazines. She lives in California. www.suzannewoodsfisher.com.

R. A. N. T. Idaho Food Bank . .

2011-12-13T15:34:00.003-07:00

I don't normally rant on my blog . . but right now my dander is up over the Idaho Food Bank. They receive donations yet charge the people who come to the various food banks that they deliver food to. They call it a delivery fee. I don't care what you call it, the food that they receive are all donations. There have been numerous food drives for the needy people in the Treasure Valley, they have even been on T.V. asking people to donate food. I don't know how in good conscience they can charge people.
When someone gives a donation that means that it is free. I mean we all know that if we donate to the Goodwill Store it will be sold, but I don't believe when we give a food donation we have any idea that the food bank will be charging people.
My husband has been working with a food bank for a few years and the food banks that they distribute to have to agree not to charge the people that come through their doors or they won't deliver food to them.
People come to a food bank because they need the assistance, not to be charged for the food that was donated to help them.
Idaho Food Bank doesn't just get donations from individuals they receive them from grocery stores as well.
Our church has a care house that gives out food and we don't charge one cent for the food that is given to those that come through the doors.

With the Christmas season food banks across the country are going to be in need of food for people, please check out the food bank and make sure they don't charge those in need.

3rd Annual Pearl Girls . . . Day 1

2011-12-13T10:39:00.005-07:00

Welcome to the 3rd Annual Pearl Girls™ 12 Pearls of Christmas blogging series!

We've gathered several of today's most beloved authors to share their Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom"! Please follow along beginning tomorrow (Wednesday the 14th) through Christmas day as Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Rachel Hauck, Sandy Ralya, Sibella Giorello, Susan May Warren and more, share their heartfelt stories of how God has touched their life during this most wonderful time of the year.

If you'd like to share the 12 Pearls of Christmas with your blog readers too, just email Christen and she'll send you the series.

***
Just a quick note before the series begins on the 14th ...

As I write this, I imagine that we are sitting at my kitchen table and chatting over a cup of coffee while familiar Christmas carols celebrate the Season. My twelve year old Chihuahua, Pongo, barks for a pinch of pound cake while my Shih Tzu, Lilly, patiently sits by the chair and waits for a crumb to fall.

My name is not Martha Stewart, and I will never receive a neighborhood beautification award. Just look at my front stoop. Yes, my never-had-time-to-carve-the-pumpkin-that-now-suffers-from-frostbite slouches next to the front door which is decorated with a Christmas wreath. I plan to roll this large orange ornament to the garbage pile tomorrow. For now, however, I will pretend that my front stoop is a contemplative modern art exhibit capturing the essence of contrast.

Actually, I love the concept of juxtaposition – placing things together that don’t seem to belong together, yet somehow ultimately make sense being paired. A personal example for me this season is the phrase: “comfort and joy.” Having just completed my manuscript for New Hope Publishers about the aftermath of grief, I fully understand the contrast of those two words. How can comfort bring joy? How can one find joy in loss?

Perhaps, dear reader, you have experienced loss this year – loss of a loved one, loss of friendship, loss of health, loss of financial security, loss of trust, loss of love, or loss of direction. Even with the best intent, words of encouragement shared by others can somehow seem insufficient to address an inconsolable loss. A spoken word cannot fully restore joy to a broken heart; however the Word can. And that’s the bottom line message of Christmas! God gave us the most amazing gift: His Son - the Word of God, the Holy Comforter.

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish but shall have everlasting life.” (John 3:16).

You are not alone this Christmas, dear friend. Juxtaposed to the unexpected grit in life is the gift of God’s grace wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. This year I purposely placed a pearl in the Nativity scene as a metaphoric reminder. When we place our grit into the hands of the Lord, His grace transforms our pain into a pearl.

“Joy to the world!”

Thank you so very much for sharing the JOY of the Season with us this year.

God Bless,
Margaret
@mcsweeny
***
Margaret McSweeney lives with her husband, David and two teenage daughters in the Chicago suburbs. She is the founder and director of Pearl Girls. For more information please visit www.pearlgirls.info. Margaret is fast at work on several fiction manuscripts. Her book Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace was written to help fund the Pearl Girl Charities. She is also the host of weekly radio show, Kitchen Chat. Connect with Margaret on Facebook or Twitter.

AND of course there is a giveaway! Beginning tomorrow you and all your friends can enter to win a PEARL NECKLACE and EARRINGS valued at $450! The winner will be announced on New Year's Day! Pearls - a tangible reminder of God's grace to us all.

Contest link https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/viewform?hl=en_US&formkey=dGVFUTJIV1M5bmRvS19QQW5YMlVFQUE6MQ#gid=0

God Gave Us Love - board book

2011-12-12T11:17:00.002-07:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Lisa T. Bergren

and the book:

God Gave Us Love board book

WaterBrook Press; Brdbk edition (December 20, 2011)

***Special thanks to Laura Tucker, WaterBrook Multnomah Publicity, for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

LISA BERGREN is the best-selling, award-winning author of more than thirty books, with more than two million copies sold. A former publishing executive, she now splits her time working as a freelance editor and writer while parenting three children with her husband, Tim, and dreaming of the family’s next visit to Taos.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

As Little Cub and Grampa Bear’s fishing adventure is interrupted by mischievous otters, the young polar bear begins to question why we must love others… even the seemingly unlovable.

In answering her questions, Grampa Bear gives tender explanations that teach Little Cub about the different kinds of love that is shared between families, friends, and mamas and papas. Grampa explains that all these kinds of love come from God and that it is important to love others because…

“Any time we show love, Little Cub, we’re sharing a bit of his love.”

This sweet tale will warm the hearts of young children as they learn about all the different sorts of love, while the gentle explanations of each provide a valuable opportunity to encourage children to share with others a “God-sized love.” Now in a sturdy format, ideal for the littlest hands at storytime, bedtime, or anytime. Would make a great Christmas gift!

Product Details:

List Price: $6.99
Reading level: Ages 0 and up
Board book: 22 pages
Publisher: WaterBrook Press; Brdbk edition (December 20, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0307730271
ISBN-13: 978-0307730275

Here's an excerpt from the first book in the series: God Gave Us You (Board Book). (Click on images to see them larger):

This is a very sweet book that is written for children. It explains God's love right at there level.
Grampa and Cub talk about loving others and I loved how Lisa made it so simple yet so perfect for them. Any young child would love this book!

Common English Bible with Apocrypha - Saturday's Advent

2011-12-09T22:46:00.004-07:00

Take a fresh look at the Bible while you experience a new translation. The Common English Bible combines a commitment to both accuracy and readability. The result is a new version of the Bible the typical reader or worshipper is able to understand with ease. Written in today's modern English, the Common English Bible was created through the careful work of 120 leading biblical scholars from 24 faith traditions and thorough field tests by 77 reading groups. The CEB Thinline edition is highly portable yet easy to see with generous 9-point type and a convenient trim size that is also thinner than an inch. Available in Softcover, DecoTone simulated leather, and bonded EcoLeather bindings.

Thanks to B&B Media I have the pleasure of reviewing this Bible. In all the years I have read the Bible, and the many different versions I have not read one with the Apocrypha in it. The Apocrypha is from the Greek meaning those hidden away.

The Apocrypha

In some Protestant Bibles, they are placed between the New and Old Testament. In the Roman Catholic Bibles the books are interspersed with the rest of the text. In this case they are also called 'Deuterocanonical', which means 'secondary canon.' The books on this page are all Deuterocanonical.

Jerome rejected the Deuterocanonical books when he was translating the Bible into Latin circa 450 CE, (see the Vulgate). This was because no Hebrew version of these texts could be found, even though they were present in the Greek Old Testament (the Septuagint). However, they eventually were accepted by the Church, and most of them remained part of the Bible. Protestants rejected these books during the Reformation as lacking divine authority. They either excised them completely or placed them in a third section of the Bible. The Roman Catholic Council of Trent, on the other hand, declared in 1546 that the Deuterocanonical books were indeed divine.

Of these books, Tobias, Judith, the Wisdom of Solomon, Baruch, and Maccabees, remain in the Catholic Bible. First Esdras, Second Esdras, Epistle of Jeremiah, Susanna, Bel and the Dragon, Prayer of Manasseh, Prayer of Azariah, and Laodiceans are not today considered part of the Catholic apocrypha.

With one exception, all of these books are considered 'Old Testament'. The apocryphal New Testament 'Letter of Paul to the Laodiceans', was once incorporated in many versions of the Bible. However Laodiceans is now considered just a pastiche of other Epistles, and is omitted from contemporary Bibles.

There are many other apocryphal books, which do not fall into the 'Deuterocanonical' category, such as the many additional New Testament Gospels, and the apocalyptic book of Enoch.

I find it very interesting that during the Reformation it was decided what was inspired and what wasn't. I am really enjoying being able to read these other books that are not included in a regular Protestant Bible.

Advent Scripture: Matthew 2:3-6 When King Herod heard this, he was troubled, and everyone in Jerusalem was troubled with him. He gathered all the chief priests and the legal experts and asked them where the Christ was to be born. They said, "In Bethlehem of Judea, for this is what the prophet wrote: You, Bethlehem, land of Judah, by no means are you least among the rulers of Judah, because from you will come one who governs, who will shepherd my people Israel." CEB

BOOK SPOTLIGHT: Web of Lies - Pump Up Your Book!

2011-12-08T08:00:00.000-07:00

Book Description:

Web of Lies takes you on an emotional roller-coaster, experienced through the eyes of Sarah Tate, an intelligent, young newcomer to Switzerland who is swept off her feet by an older, more experienced company manager. Within weeks of their meeting, Bill impresses her with a courtship vastly unusual in modern times. He lures Sarah with his intellect along with numerous gifts, expensive restaurants, and trips to luxury hotels. Sarah, who is searching for not only love but security, quickly finds herself falling for the worldly but sensitive and caring man Bill represents himself to be. In Web of Lies, she describes the highs and the lows of what it is like to be involved with a person with Narcissistic Personality Disorder, how to come to terms with the abuse, and most importantly, how to escape.

Bill, who is seventeen years older than Sarah, has led what she finds at first to be a fascinating life. Married twice before, he has been recently widowed, after his second wife fell into depression and took her own life. Within months of their first meeting, Bill has proposed to Sarah, and they are planning a lavish wedding and exciting new life together. However, Sarah quickly starts to feel there may be more to Bill than meets the eye.

Sarah battles to keep the marriage on track, but is frustrated by Bill’s lackadaisical attitude towards work, and his constant bragging about how he’s going to make millions via various entrepreneurial schemes which never materialize.

Sarah eventually begins to wake up to Bill’s lies and schemes, but not before she discovers his dark side….

As the marriage ends, Sarah battles serious clinical depression in order to cope with the destructive relationship with Bill.

Sarah realizes finally that she must break the pattern of abuse in order to escape with her sanity intact. Mindful of protecting her children from him, she eventually stands up to Bill for the final time, and is left at the end to carve a new life. She is in debt and alone, but thankfully free from Bill’s negative and unhealthy influence.

Giveaways, Contests & Prizes!

In celebration of Sarah Tate’s new release, he will be appearing at Pump Up Your Book’s 1st Annual Holiday Extravaganza Facebook Party on December 16. More than 50 books, gifts and cash awards will be given away including an an e-copy of her book, Web of Lies! Visit the official party page HERE

My Thoughts: I just received this book yesterday, and just cracked the cover. I am already intrigued and quickly turning pages. I don't like Bill and I don't trust him. I will write a full review when I finish this. Stay Tuned!

Play It Again

2011-12-06T11:28:00.003-07:00

Book Description:
Sparks fly when an ex-rock and roll junkie and a stuffy accountant rendezvous at a local resort, but neither are prepared for the emotional entanglements, family complications, and threat from the past that unexpectedly resurfaces. Set in the 1980s, this story brings two opposing forces together in a clash of romance and danger, while its musical undertones highlight the theme that God can turn anything into beautiful music. Play It Again is the much anticipated prequel to Tracy's debut novel And the Beat Goes On. Find out where Mark Graham's journey began in this, the story of his parents. About the Author: Tracy Krauss is a high school teacher by profession, and a prolific author, artist, playwright and director by choice. She received her Bachelor's degree from the University of Saskatchewan and has gone on to teach Art, Drama and English - all the things she is passionate about. After raising four children, she and her husband now reside in beautiful Tumbler Ridge, BC, Canada, where she continues to pursue all of her creative interests.

My Thoughts: This is the third book that I have read of Tracy's and it is the best of the three! I couldn't put this down. The characters were real and I love that! This is going to be one of my tops for the year! This is a definite must read!