Grace A. Johnson's Blog: Of Blades & Thorns, page 38

Author Interview: Abigail Kay Harris

Finally! Another author interview!! It's been just over a month since the last one, and it's high time I have another author on! So, without further ado, let me hand the mic over to Miss Abigail Kay Harris!!

(Oh, and stay tuned for my review of her latest release, Oh, The Fallen, at noon today!)

GJ: What first inspired you to write?

AH: The love I had for writing. It grew into wanting to give others a story and the joy of a story that grabs the readers’ attention as I got from so many others. And, I loved some of the books by an indie author who was homeschooled and in her teens like I was.

GJ: What are some of the driving forces behind you and your writing now?

AH: Passion from God, I guess? I used to write for fun and because it was an easy hobby when I already loved writing. I now write about things I’m passionate about such as military, PTSD, abortion, finding truth in God’s word, lots of things that are sometimes not talked about enough.

GJ: What are some of your most favorite books/genres-to read and to write?

AH: I read many genres as well as write many genres. I love to read and write WWII, military romances, military fiction, spy-thrillers, contemporary romances.

I also like to read but not write non-magical fantasy.

And I like to write but not read light hearted mysteries, I find I am picky in my mystery choices as I guess what happens too soon and am bored by the story often.

GJ: Looking back, what has changed for you as a writer - be it how you write or what you write about?

AH: Confidence! Really, the biggest thing to change was my view of my writing and going from a “maybe one day” to “I did it and should do it again” kinda thing. It's crazy that I lost a lot of self doubt as I was working on this book and I found I was excited to share this little story.

GJ: Tell me a little about your newest release, Oh, The Fallen. What inspired the story?

AH: Many things inspired my story! I’m the daughter of an Air Force veteran, I love supporting veterans, and am passionate about subjects that aren’t often spoken about. PTSD being one of them and that is what led me to write Oh, The Fallen as did the fact that many don’t know what families are going through on Memorial Day or why Memorial Day is a holiday.

GJ: What did your writing process for Oh, The Fallen look like? Did you pants it? Plot it? How long did it take for you to write?

AH: I wrote a flash fiction that I lost until one day in January. I wanted to write a story after a friend went to bootcamp and we couldn’t keep in touch. I searched for the place I had saved the flash fiction and I finally found it. The rest of the month I slowly wrote a short draft followed by one or two more, I had the third draft done the next month. I’ve been a slow writer in the past and it was amazing I kept writing in the story since I often lose interest in writing a story after the first 5,000 words. I am a pantster who leans toward full discovery writing, I didn’t know what the end result would be until I finished my last draft.

It took roughly 150 days to go from a flash fiction to a published novella with plans for three novels, another flash fiction, novelettes, and novellas in a total of 8 or 9 stories.

Fun fact about my drafts is I write about double the word count as last time so each draft of Oh, The Fallen until the editing stage added 2,000 words in all ending with over 14,000 words.

GJ: What do you want your readers to take away from this story?

AH: A new understanding of what the men and women who fight for our country go though. Even what I write doesn’t begin to show the truth of what our military goes through. I come from more of an Air Force kid’s view which is limited as well since my dad got out when I was a little kid but it still impacted my family.

GJ: Have you ever experienced any discouragement as an author? If so, what inspired you to persevere?

AH: Yes, I actually nearly gave up on writing after I was given some advice and critique that wasn’t right for me. I also had a hard time writing a few years ago when one story of mine just didn’t work out and I had writer's block for nearly a year. Friends encouraged me to keep writing and about that time I met my best writing friend who has pulled me out of lots of downs as I’m writing and she’s also my editor along with a lovely writer!

GJ: What are your greatest aspirations for your future, be it as a person or as a writer?

AH: Hmm! At this time, my greatest aspiration is to publish my series while planning another book at the same time.

GJ: What has being a writer taught you?

AH: That everyone has a different story themselves and we can’t have another person’s story, good or bad.

About the Author

Abigail Kay Harris is a daughter of the King with a personal degree in book-nerdiness. A sister to seven, her passionate love of the written word and deeper meanings hidden in normal things leads her to spend her time reading, writing, using sarcasm, and defining obscure words. When she’s not chasing words, she enjoys watching shows, classic romance movies, tea, sunrises, and the outdoors, especially mountains, beaches, and forests.

You can follow her on ,Amazon, ,Goodreads, ,BookBub, ,her blog, ,MeWe, ,Facebook, ,Pinterest, and subscribe to her ,newsletter!

Cover Reveal: Ignite by Jenna Terese

Usually, it takes me fifteen minutes to get a post together. Upload my pics and graphics. Copy and paste imperative information. Schedule a day or week or month ahead. Sit there and look cute. (Unless it's a long post, in which cause it'll probably take me anywhere between two hours and two weeks to write.)

Not so with this post. I have had a time, let me tell you, and I nearly missed the cutoff to share with you one of the most GORGEOUS book covers in the history of book covers.

So let's get to it, shall we?

About the Book

What if superhumans weren’t considered heroes?

When Scarlett Marley is attacked by an illegal super with fire powers, she doesn’t get burned, but now she has a fire-like glow flickering in her eyes.

With superpowers criminalized, she has no choice but to turn herself over to the Superhuman Containment Facility, or risk hurting everyone she loves.

Her normal life seems lost forever, until she is selected to be one of the first to receive the experimental cure to destroy her powers. In exchange, she must first complete one mission:

Infiltrate and capture one of the largest gangs of supers in the remains of once-great Rapid City.

With the cure and all her future at stake, Scarlett is prepared to do whatever it takes to bring these criminals to justice so she can return to her family. But this gang and their leader, Rez, aren’t what everyone says, and Scarlett begins to question everything she was ever told about the SCF and the fire flowing in her veins.

The cure is her only hope for returning her life to what it was before, but is that life worth returning to after all?

THE COVER

Check. out. this. beauty. Y'ALL. Not only is this just an ah-may-zing story, the cover is g l o r i o u s!!!

Just loooooook at it!!!!!

(I'm seriously gonna ask Jenna who did her cover, 'cause, y'all. I could stare at this thing all day!)

Here's a bigger picture (because, you know, we all need a closer look):

About the Author

Stories have always been a part of Jenna’s life.

It all started with her mother reading books to her and her siblings when they were little.

That’s what sparked the love of story. At seven, she decided to try to make her own books. Lined paper stapled together, little, happy stories coupled with marker drawings of little creatures.

And she never stopped creating.

Eventually she stopped writing about animals (finally) and created human protagonists. Her love for storytelling grew with the binders filling up with every story she wrote.

Jenna kept writing and writing over the years, learning and improving. Her passion for story always drove her, but things changed in the summer of 2017. She had a new reason to write.

“If you want to change the world, pick up your pen and write.” -Martin Luther

She wanted to use her passion to impact the world. She wanted to use her God-given gift to bring Him glory.

Now she works with this goal and mission in mind, hoping that others will see God in her stories. She enjoys writing speculative fiction, reading plenty, being around horses, and playing music (she may or may not have four ukuleles), star-gazing, and watching sunsets. This INFP resides in the Midwest with her family, two adorable guinea pigs, and a healthy amount of books.

All That Imperative Information

Check out Jenna's website ,here, and/or follow her on ,Instagram, ,Pinterest, and ,BlogLovin'!

Oh, and while you're at it, preorder Ignite today and have it wirelessly delivered to your Kindle the moment it releases on July 2nd!!!!

#jennaterese #jennatereseauthor #ignite #igniteduology #yasuperherobook #superherobooks #coverreveal

The Watchers (Reign: Part 8)

Reign

Part 8: The Watchers

Brehnan

Something rippled in the water just beyond, starting at a crumpling pillar and reverberating gently ‘til it reached the boat. Whatever it was, it was too small to rock the boat or make a splash or even garner my attention, if it weren’t for the Siren’s warning.

They were upon us, the malevolent watchers of the City. I could sense it in my bones.

I kept my focus trained on the Siren, my only ally against the cunning elemental creatures. She knew their ways and purposes—if they posed a threat, which ‘twas likely they did, it would be up to her to dissuade them.

With wispy fingers, she motioned for us to get down. I gently tucked Ambrosia beneath the wooden seat at the fore, then crouched to my hands and knees, keeping only my eyes above the rim of the hull.

How many would appear? Would I even be able to see them? I’d only heard stories of the Naiads, and far less of them than I had of the Sirens. Nymphs kept mostly to themselves and their political plots. For years, they only came out of hiding to make deals with the powers and rulers across Magni and the surrounding isles—before the flood, at least. After that? All but the Naiads had gone extinct, not even leaving behind any half-breed offspring, like the gryphons and wyverns had.

They were eternal creatures, it seemed, untouchable by humans and with no known beginning. And yet, just as mysteriously as they appeared, they disappeared without a trace—presumably dying.

Except the Naiads. They thrived in the flood, being in their element and all. Had any of them ever vanished? How many had existed to begin with?

Ah, questions, questions, questions. Mere curiosities humans were taught to ignore at a young age. Particularly those training to be Guardians. I could still remember the way Commandant Rubin had harped so on keeping to oneself, one’s people, and one’s mission. Magni was our people and Magni was our mission, and if our focus strayed from Magni to anything, we had failed as Guardians.

Renout had been one such Guardian. From the start, he’d been captivated by foreigners and intermarriage and all the myths that came with it. Oh, all the times he’d quizzed Galen on being part gryphon!

He’d never been expelled—not with his astute intellect and, eventually, his friendship with Galen. The two had been inseparable, and it had come as no surprise when the new king chose Renout to be his advisor. That was what had ended his training.

As for me? I had failed because I’d kept my focus on something alive, human, and ever with me: my own lusts.

Yet neither had I been expelled or executed, as I should have been for breaking oath. My indiscretions were never revealed, not even to my brother. And in the end? I’d caused more damage than execution could ever repair, especially once Ambrosia was born.

I’d learned my lesson the day she came into the world: my focus stayed on Magni and her queen. Not me, not my foolish desires or flighty emotions, and certainly not the world of Naiads and Sirens.

Even if I understood young Renout’s fascination with them.

Even if sating my curiosities could further our existence.

Another ripple shocked the calm waters, this one closer and larger and followed by two large splashes of water. No, not splashes…beings.

* * *

Seira

The first figure was that of a Naiad—diminutive in form at only five feet long, which was about six inches to a foot shorter than the average human in Magni and at least two to three feet shorter than a Siren. Her size was her most defining feature, especially since Charis was one of the more curvaceous Naiads. They were all perfectly proportioned, of course, but Charis? She was endowed with the voluptuous beauty every Siren longed to possess.

A beauty everyone wanted and no one—not even a man—could ever even touch.

Honestly, I wanted to hate Charis. Not just for being a Naiad—and the daughter of Delta, the head watcher, at that—and not just for her glorious appearance. But also because she had stolen Rhea from me.

Very well, no one had stolen my sister. Yet despite mine and Sibylla’s (and probably Delta’s) every warning, Charis and Rhea had become…friends.

There was nothing I could say against their friendship now, though, considering I was the one currently defying everyone’s orders—and the laws of nature—by leading a man and human girl through the City. To Parvi. Three things I wasn’t supposed to do—not immediately launch my seduction campaign at the first sign of a male; interact with humans; and leave the City.

So I would let Rhea off the hook, at least this time.

Oh, speaking of, the second figure? Yeah, that was Rhea.

She was in no way as small or curvy as a Naiad, especially Charis, but with her gently flowing translucent blue tail, shimmering silver hair, and pearlescent skin, she looked as if she were one with the ocean. Part of the water. An elemental.

She wasn’t, of course. She could be touched by humans. She had fangs—although they weren’t as large as mine. She had scales—but they shone like diamonds, of course. She had those slit pupils and leviathan eyes that rolled in all directions.

But she was so ethereal, so beautiful.

Sibylla and I had lamented that for years, our lack of beauty like our sisters. Rhea with her unattainable shimmer, and Chryseis with her gilded glory. Sibylla and me? Monsters. As reptilian as they came, looking more like our cousins, the leviathans, than we’d like.

We had prettier voices, though, and to be honest? That was what mattered. Our appearance would always be second fiddle to the way we sang. If only Brehn could hear my song, he’d change his mind about being “immune” to my charms. He’d see me as something beyond the fangs and scales—perhaps as something a little bit beautiful.

There I went sounding human again, concerned with how I was perceived and what a single man thought of me and what my heart wanted instead of what my body needed.

As per usual, Charis was the first to speak up. She rose with a gentle swell of the river, her voice low and tempered. Not high-pitched or lilting, not husky and seductive. Instead, deep and vast. Like the ocean. “I know what you’re up to, Seira.”

Of course you do, Charis. You and your mum have eyes everywhere.

I disregarded the bubbles in her eyes—like embers in a human’s, they sparked and sputtered with heat—and hiked my chin in the air. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me, Charis. You nor Delta.”

She sighed, swirling in the water and bobbing up and down before she finally spoke again. “I know that too, which is why I’m going to do you a favor.”

A favor? You’re going to take yourself and the rest of your nymph kind and leave? “Unexpected,” I murmured, even though I knew she could hear.

And if she had solid eyes, she’d roll them.

“Don’t give me any grief, Se, and I won’t report you to my mother.”

Se? Oh, no, she doesn’t! I seethed, my fangs scraping my bottom lip as I turned a dirty look on that impertinent little Naiad. “Have I given you permission to call me Se?”

A few specks of debris must have gotten caught in her watery form, because something dark was floating about in her eyes…something that seemed a little too human to be debris. “Do I need permission?” she garbled, water bubbling out of her mouth.

“Depends. Can I trust you?” It was a dumb question, because really? I had no reason to trust anyone, least of all myself.

She was silent for a long moment, and judging by the way Rhea’s mouth kept popping open, I surmised she was about to start talking for her—or peppering me with questions I couldn’t answer.

Then she finally looked up, her eyes suddenly clear again, and let one syllable cascade from her mouth: “Yes.”

Missed Part 6? Read it here! Part 9 will arrive on June 10th!

#theriver #reign #serial #fantasy #theguardiansofmagni

What If...God Searches for the Broken Ones?

Just the other day, my family and I went on our first beach trip since 2019. (#thankscovid) The beach, despite the jellyfish and sharks and toddler-wrangling involved, is one of my favorite places to be. And one of my favorite things to do at the beach is gather seashells. #beachcomber

I had three unofficial shell goals (shoals for short):

Find a whole sand dollar (uncompleted, unfortunately) Find an unbroken lightning whelk shell (took me a while, but I did find one!) Collect all of the prettiest, cleanest whole shells I could

They may sound like noble goals, but I felt a pinch of guilt every time my siblings handed me a shattered shell or small piece of one and I chucked it to the ground. Or when I heard the crunch of tiny, fragile shells beneath my feet. Or when I passed over shards in search of the “perfect” shells.

It wasn’t like I hurt their feelings or was being shellist (like racist, but, you know, shells...anyway, moving on), but it did get me thinking.

What if God shuffled through all of His people and handpicked the most morally upright, most charismatic, most amiable, most willing, most kind, most loving, most righteous ones for His collection? What if He unceremoniously threw out all of the broken, weary, chipped, hurting, unloved, unwanted, trampled ones like so much garbage?

Where would I be? Where would any of us be, in fact?

I have good news for you guys. God doesn’t pick the brightest bulbs, sharpest pencils, or most holy priests.

He searches for the broken ones.

He chooses the drug addicts, rape victims, thieves and murderers, suicidal teens, porn stars, prostitutes, homosexuals, and broken, discarded, unwanted people—the dirtiest sinners of all—to be His preachers, teachers, and prophets. To be His missionaries and worship leaders and loving families. To be His cities on hills and shining lights. To be living testimonies of His amazing grace and mercy. To reflect His glory. To carry His love.

He chooses the ones who cry themselves to sleep, thinking they’re not good enough, to start revivals.

He chooses the unwanted foster kid with handicaps to preach to the masses.

He chooses the struggling teen mom to raise up soldiers for His army.

He chooses the depressed alcohol abuser to lead His people in praise.

He chooses the sex slavery survivor to change the world.

Not only that, but He searches for them. Scours the earth for, yeah, the most broken souls. Why? Because broken souls make beautiful vessels. Because He looks at that chipped seashell with holes in it and sees a gorgeous conch. Because He looks at your brokenness and sees the beauty He can create in you, the beauty you were intended for. Because in your weakness, your failings, your imperfections, His strength is made perfect.

He doesn’t see your mistakes or your impurities. He sees you for who you are—His creation, made in His image—and for who you can be in Him—a shining star.

So even though seashells do lose their value and beauty when they’re chipped or cracked or broken, people don’t. Their value increases with every piece of them they lose—because that’s just more of Jesus He can put in.

Remember that the next time you’re feeling blue, beat-down, world-weary, or broken. Remember that God sees you. He hears you. And you know what? He is more than ready to work in you to turn you into a masterpiece.

With love and blessings always, Grace

Coming Soon: Oh, The Fallen by Abigail Kay Harris

Today is the day, my lovelies. Today marks a week until the release of Oh, The Fallen by Abigail Kay Harris. Maybe you've heard about this book - I hope you have - or maybe you haven't.

Whatever the case, it is my honor and my duty to share with you the details of this heart-wrenching story.

Shall we begin?

Oh, The Fallen releases May 31st, 2021 (Memorial Day, actually), and is available for preorder on Amazon!

It's the prequel to Oh, The Lamented, which releases on Veteran's Day this year, and part of the four-book Oh, The Brave series!

And, of course, this lovely is a Christian military romance, so what's not to love?

You can check it out on Goodreads ,here! Don't forget to follow the author and shelf the book, you guys!

Anyway, let me share the blurb with you before I start trying to sell you the book, okay?

About the Book

In the cause of freedom, some will give their all.

When Matt Renicker joins the Army, he's determined to give his best for his country and his Lord, even if it means risking everything he loves most. But when tragedy strikes on a routine patrol, more than one heart is left shattered and lamenting.

In the wake of a terrible loss, will those left behind find the strength to go on? Or will the faith, family, and freedom Matt fought to preserve be broken beyond repair?

About the Author

Abigail Kay Harris is a daughter of the King with a personal degree in book-nerdiness. A sister to seven, her passionate love of the written word and deeper meanings hidden in normal things leads her to spend her time reading, writing, using sarcasm, and defining obscure words. When she’s not chasing words, she enjoys watching shows, classic romance movies, tea, sunrises, and the outdoors, especially mountains, beaches, and forests.

You can follow her on ,Amazon, ,Goodreads, ,BookBub, ,her blog, ,MeWe, ,Facebook, ,Pinterest, and subscribe to her ,newsletter!

The Tour

I'm super excited to be joining the blog tour for Oh, The Fallen, and if you'd like to keep up-to-date with all the awesome posts, just check out the schedule below!

MAY 27th: ,Jaybird Summers | Shelf Control: Interview MAY 28th: ,Madeline Clouse | Simply Madeline Eve: Review Natalie Claire | Kenmore Pines : Review A.M. Heath | Author A.M. Heath : Spotlight MAY 29th: ,Anna Grace | Anna's Ideas: Interview MAY 30th: ,Gina Holder | Gina Holder, Author and Blogger: Interview MAY 31st: ,Esther Jackson | 'Neath the Hackberry Tree: Review and Interview Ryana Lynn Peterson | Life of Heritage : Review and Guest Post Grace A. Johnson | Grabbing with Grace : Interview and Review JUNE 1st: ,Rachel Rossano | Rachel Rossano's Words: Interview Kelly Barr | Kelly F. Barr : Interview JUNE 2nd: ,Katja L. | Old-Fashioned Book Love: Review

Keep y'all's eyes peeled for my interview with Abigail and my review of Oh, The Fallen, coming to a blog near you on May 31st!

Guest Post: Pride and Prejudice Review by Esther Jackson

Well, hello there! Have I got a treat for you! My friend Esther from The Lost Review of Odd Book is appearing on Gabbing with Grace to share with you her review of one of my all-time favorites, Pride and Prejudice! I hope y'all enjoy! Be sure to subscribe to her blog for more fun reviews!

Do you ever tell someone they can choose what you do a fuller review on and have immediate regrets thinking they'll probably choose a book you've half forgotten? (for I never fully forget a book) And then they don't, they choose one you read recently, but didn't have tons of thoughts on.

Allow me to start by talking about my history with P&P. I was a good Christian kid who knew my Bible, and in the Bible it says that pride is one of the seven deadly sins... I had so much prejudice against this book. That didn't stop me from attempting to read a tiny edition of the book. It was smaller than a Moby Illustrated Classic. I failed and mostly ignored the book for the next 12 or so years.

So I start listening to the audiobook so I can sew and read and first thing there's a preface explaining the title. I kinda disagree with that preface though. It said Darcy was proud and maybe pride meant something different back then, maybe I've been infected by the nasty modern sentiment of loud and proud. To me he isn't really proud, he's reserved.

There are three types of people in Darcy's world. His friends (who he seems to have known for a long time), his employees, and everyone else. And he's happy with that, so when Lizzy Bennet is different, attractive, and dismissive, he doesn't know how to react.

So Darcy is one of the most well written, legitimately nice people I've ever read. Most of the time nice people have no flaws, are acting, or aren't well written. Jane Austen avoids all that, maybe it's because he's not the main character or a minor side. I don't know. Now about the Bennets. What a family. Not as dysfunctional as is common today, but I'm glad not to live with them. I was bewildered by Lydia (WHY!?!, but then she is a classic teen) I enjoyed Mr. Bennet's unwavering support in all of his daughters. I don't get Mary, I understand that she feels less pretty than her sisters, and therefore works to have a better education and is proud of the fact that she's better, but you aren't better if people don't like listening to you. Mrs Bennet, is just sad. To make the appearance of marrying well so important...

This book reminds me of a few questions I wish to research. Where did the myth that older books were mostly plot come from? Where did I hear that in Regency times it was scandalous for an unmarried couple to be alone together?

This is Esther Jackson, though occasionally she uses the name Wanda Gambling when talking about books on the internet. She is the creator and manager of Neath The Hackberry Reading Club and the main writer at The Lost Review Of Odd Books. She doesn’t quite read everything, but few things disinterest her. (boring baby books on repeat are among the few) Her room, where she does most of her reading and where she works is shaded by a Hackberry tree.

Review: Winning the Gentleman by Kristi Ann Hunter

*Warnings*

#1 This is a long review, so pull up a chair and grab a bowl of popcorn. You’ll be here awhile. #2 When I read a review, I want substantial information. So I will not skimp on the details. Which may mean some spoilers, so watch out.

Stars: 4

Synopsis: Aaron Whitworth needs a jockey. Sophia Fitzroy needs a job. It ought to be a perfect fit...but a bit of deception and a whole lot of trouble argue otherwise.

Favorite Quote: “It’s grass. You can’t eat it. Might as well have fun on it.” And… “Because that meddlesome woman thinks true love will make you run after her. She doesn’t understand love doesn’t demand what it wants. Instead it will sacrifice itself to the give the other person what they need.”

I never really know what to think about Kristi Ann Hunter’s novels. Some are quite spectacular—like A Noble Masquerade—while others are mediocre—like Vying for the Viscount—and others yet are sorely disappointing—like A Pursuit of Home.

In the end, I walk away marveling over some aspects and shaking my head at others.

The same applies to Winning the Gentleman.

The foremost marvel, since I shall begin on a positive note, is Aaron Whitworth. From the very first moment I read his infamous line, “My name is Aaron Whitworth, and I’m illegitimate,” in A Defense of Honor, I just knew this man needed a story. (May I also note that I read ADOH not long after its release, so it’s plausible that I had the idea before Hunter did? I may not? Oh, well, never mind then. A thousand pardons, all.)

So naturally I was insanely excited to hear that my lovely Ari (yes, I’ve given him a nickname) was finally getting his story! I’ve been vying for this book (see what I did there?) since word first came out about it, and now that I’ve at long last read it, I am very pleased with the portrayal of Aaron’s character.

Granted, I do not remember him being so serious in ADOH, but it has been a couple years since I read that book, so no doubt my memories are askew.

Whatever the case, Aaron’s stoicism came through loud and clear. His oftentimes emotionless demeanor, frowning thoughts, and nervous little-boy heart poured forth from every word of this novel, in such a clear, arresting manner that I could almost hear Aaron speak. It’s not often that such occurs, but when it does? Oh, the heights it take the story too!

No doubt Aaron was the best part of this book. From the transparency of his portrayal to the overall adorable wonderfulness of his character, he truly shined—which made my heart so happy, since I do so love Aaron and since it’s rare that Hunter ever has such a firm grasp on her characters.

Sophia, on the other hand? Eh. I’m not entirely certain what to think of her. By this point, I’ve come to the conclusion that I either (1) don’t like heroines much at all or (2) just plain ignore them because the heroes are so amazing. Or a mixture of both at times, I suppose. So, yes, Sophia wasn’t as defined as Aaron. She also hasn’t been around for four books, so there’s that. The only part of her personality that came through was her talkativeness, and most of that was show through, well, her exuberant dialogues.

Let me say this, though: what readers don’t realize is how blooming difficult it is to write talkative characters. Trust me, I’ve tried, and it’s extremely hard. It requires a honed focus on the balance and emotion of each scene. Not only do we have to measure each beat according to the tone of the scene, but we’re also impressed upon to write realistic dialogue. That’s difficult enough without throwing in a Chatty Cathy. Once you have a talkative character, your perfect balance is disrupted. Now you must focus on capturing the emotion of the overall scene and the separate emotion (usually nervousness or exasperation) of the talkative character. Then you have to ensure that everything they’re saying is (1) flowing correctly, (2) making sense enough for the reader to understand, (3) long enough to capture their talkativeness, (4) short enough to keep the reader’s attention, and (5) not entirely pointless.

This is exactly why I either don’t write talkative characters or they all end up being not-so-talkative.

On that note, quiet characters are just as hard, since the author always has a point they want made, reaction they want to include, or an emotion they want to capture that simply cannot be captured by an all but mute character. Therefore, Hunter’s mastery of Aaron’s quietness and Sophia’s talkativeness was apparent. She did them both so well. Only once have I ever read the dialogue of a chatty character and heard every nuance of their voice, and that was with Rosemary Gresham in A Name Unknown. (Was she even labeled as talkative? I can’t remember. All I know was that she was, and perfectly so. It takes a truly consummate author to bring readers to conclusions about characters without stating them outright, you know.)

And there was your writing lesson for today. Take it to heart, dear readers, for the next time you stumble upon an unusually chatty or quiet character, and know that the author took special care to ensure their personality and tendencies came through clearly.

Now, where was I?

Oh, yes. My marvels.

My second marvel was how well Hunter handled the horses. I’m not a full-out horse-lover, since I’m rarely around them, but I’ve always admired them from afar (and the comfort of my couch as I watch John Wayne and Heartland). So getting these special glimpses of horsemanship, horse training, and horse races in not only this book but also the entire series has been a splendid experience.

Speaking of splendid experiences, may I just say that I greatly enjoy the almost Austen-esque setting the Heath is? Unlike most Regencies set during a London Season, Hunter took pointers from Jane Austen and set her story in the countryside, during a long span of months, and highlighted the everyday aspects of life away from London. It’s always so refreshing to see a different setting.

Now, for my head-shakers. Sigh. I’m almost never completely satisfied with a book—makes you wonder why I haven’t become an editor or how I’ve managed to publish my own books.

Kristi Ann Hunter is one of those fluctuating authors. Now, I don’t mean an evolving author, like Karen Witemeyer or Laura Frantz, whose books have only gotten better (although their first ones will always been some of my favorites). I don’t even mean an author with multiple voices, like Roseanna M. White.

I mean just what I said—an author who fluctuates. Let me explain: Hunter’s first series, Hawthorne House, was fun and light. Her prose didn’t stand out, but it was well-balanced, and every single book was a unique romantic adventure.

Her second series, Haven Manor, wasn’t as adventurous or romantic. Rather, it was almost poetic. Boring at times, yes, but her prose had morphed into something lovely and deep—kind of like Austen’s—that kept you reading even if the story and characters were lacking.

Then comes Hearts on the Hearth (man, this woman likes hs). It keeps with the gentler, slower stories of Haven Manor, but all of a sudden her prose is back to the simplicity of Hawthorne House. Rather than taking the best from both series—HM’s gorgeous prose and HH’s intriguing stories and endearing characters—she drew the lacking aspects into a series of its own.

I digress. There are good things to Hearts of the Hearth in and of itself. The setting is lovely. The characters are unique and more defined than HM’s characters (although not as much as the Hawthornes). The writing is balanced and even, and the stories are almost like classical escapism.

And maybe that’s your style, in which case, Hearts on the Hearth is perfect for you! Me personally? I like my stories a little more scintillating and a lot more romantic.

Honestly, I would just like to see more consistency in Hunter’s writing, or at least a difference in her voice. I appreciate authors who have a different voice or tone for each series or genre they write in, but when nearly every book is on a different spectrum, I’m not sure what to think of the author.

All in all, what matters is how much I enjoyed Winning the Gentleman…or, better yet, if it lived up to all of my hopes and dreams for Aaron’s story.

And the answer?

It did. I mean, I would’ve liked him to say “My name is Aaron Whitworth, and I’m illegitimate” a couple more times, but I’m not broken up over that. His character was so intense, and that was awesome to see, since very few of Hunter’s characters have possessed his same strength.

And I enjoyed this book. I really did. It was so…promising. (And I say that because my fingers are crossed in the hopes that Aaron’s half-brother gets the next story!!!! Hey, a girl can dream, can’t she?)

Disclaimer: A complimentary copy of this book was provided by the publisher, publicist, or author, including NetGalley. All opinions expressed are my own.

The City (Reign: Part 7)

Reign

Part 7: The City

Brehnan

Strangely enough, there was a beauty within the destruction. For all its ruin and disrepair, shattered windows and broken stones and overabundance of algae, the City was…quite like the Siren, I supposed. Dangerous and unsightly, worthless to some, yet captivating. Magnetizing. Intoxicating.

It was probably the prospect of freedom on the other end or the rush of adrenaline that tantalized me so, no doubt because it had been so long since I’d left the High Castle, let alone left Magni.

Still, as tainted as the City was, it gleamed brightly in my eyes.

Judging by Ambrosia’s wide-eyed stare, parted lips, and flushed cheeks, she felt much the same.

“We’ve left it here to rot. Yet it teems with potential, opportunity, life,” she murmured beneath her breath, sounding wise beyond her years. Sounding like the queen she was. Sounding like Galen had when he was a young, idealistic ruler.

“Spoken like a true queen,” the Siren piped up from beside our boat, where only the top of her head and her oddly slanted eyes had been visible until now. She turned those eerie eyes, reptilian and yet...not, onto Ambrosia, something akin to admiration in her crooked half smile. The half smile that did nothing to conceal her fangs, which caused each word she spoke to shudder.

How could Ambrosia just look at her, completely unabashed and unmoved? As if…she didn’t even see the creature’s nakedness and scaly form and seductive eyes? As if she didn’t hear the melody in her voice?

Perks of being a female, I supposed. Which left me averting my eyes and closing my ears to the lilt of the Siren’s hiss.

I’d lied earlier, because even without serenading me from afar, she had me enraptured. Something about those eyes…

Stop it, Brehn! You know better than to fall prey to another woman, let alone a Siren! Quiet your thoughts and put your focus on what matters—getting Ambrosia to safety.

And making it out with her alive.

I hadn’t thought it a concern—being eaten whilst Ambrosia was safely tucked away—when we’d first escaped. In fact, I’d been hoping to hide ourselves in the Northern mountains with the remnant of my father’s people, but I knew that would be the first place the Regent looked. As for the City, Parvi, no one would assume we’d dared to go this far. Or make it out, for that matter.

“I would apologize for how our people have mistreated you and your home, my lady, but I know it would do little good to hear,” Ambrosia said, lips twisted into a sympathetic frown.

My lady, she said. As if the filthy, man-eating serpent deserved such a title. As if the Sirens deserved the queen’s good grace.

Off you go again, Brehnan, sputtering just as the Regent and Guardians and all the high-and-mighty commanders do about these less-than creatures. About you. Hasn’t the Siren proved herself already? She’s willing to sacrifice her life—and her hunger, at least for a moment—to get you and Ambrosia to safety. She may be the exception, but so was your father.

Ah, Father had been many a thing. The exception. A pawn. Like all of his people and the other nonhuman creatures, he had never been valued as a person with thoughts or emotions. I’d wondered when I was younger if even Mother had held him in regard. She’d never spoken of him, never told me and my brothers stories of the father we had barely known. Then she’d died...and Queen Myia’s foreign husband had become a distant memory to all.

I didn’t know what to think, to be honest, so instead of pondering it further, I settled farther into the small boat and kept my attention on each of the crumpled building we drifted past. One looked like a cobbler’s shop...another like a…

“And I would apologize for my…eating habits, Your Majesty, but I doubt that’d make either of you feel any better.”

Eating habits? Bah! As if ‘tis venison and greens she speaks of. This is human flesh and blood. Life and all that comes with living, severed by her fangs. And she would apologize for it. It is not a matter of what she is or isn’t—it is a matter of what she does. The Gryphons harm no one. My father harmed no one and I would harm no one. But a Siren? This Siren?

“You’re right,” I spat, finally turning to lock eyes with the evil serpent. “It helps none.”

I’d expected a retort. After our banter a few minutes ago, I would have bet on her making some caustic or flirtatious remark.

Instead, she froze. Stared at me with eyes unseeing. Then, with the flick of her long, forked tongue, whispered, “They come.”

Missed Part 6? Read it here!

#theriver #reign #serial #fantasy #theguardiansofmagni

April Mini Reviews

When You Found Me: Princes of Allura Novella Collection– Anna Augustine

When You Found Me is such a sweet, tender, and beautiful collection of novellas inspired by the biblical accounts of Esther, Ruth, and Jael! I was convinced by all the lovely Goodreads reviews by my friends (and friends of my friends; you know how social media works), and I was not disappointed!

Admittedly, the three princes’ of Allura’s stories have their faults. There were several typos and errors, but who am I to judge that? None of the mistakes took away from the stories (despite my sharp editor’s eye), which were short but well-developed for their length.

I never really connected with any of the characters, but I think they were all very solid, nonetheless. What felt missing to me was a bit of worldbuilding, I reckon, since I couldn’t see Allura vividly or feel connected to the goings-on such as the border wars and all. I think that’s where most all “fantasy” fairytale (or, in this case, biblical) retellings fail—too much focus on retelling the story and not enough focus on making the world your own.

My favorite story? Oy, that’s a tough one. I’d say I’m torn between Collin and Sage’s and Benjamin and Aurora’s. Those were the most interesting to me, and I really loved seeing Sage’s story unfold into the story of Jael!

Speaking of...my main qualm was that both Della and Sage were so against marriage. Like, I guess it just breaks my traditional (or chauvinist, call me what you will) heart to not just read about girls who buck against marriage (and authority, but that’s a story for another day) but to see them. As if marriage were not a God-instated union established for our good rather than our detriment. Marriage is something to honor and respect, not eschew (unless you’re going by Paul’s views on singleness, which I support in the right context). Sage did a better job at, I don’t know, not being so forceful, but Della turned me off on Page 1 by being so adamant against marriage. Then, lo and behold, she ups and marries a prince! Like, what happened to your independence, girl?

Ahem. Pardon the rant there. I suppose that’s just been on my heart lately. Aside from all of that, I did enjoy the stories. Of course, my fondness is deeper for the princes than it is for their brides (as always), and I do love how tastefully Augustine wove Collin into the stories as both the Haman figure and a hero in his own right. I love a good redemption story!

I think, with the right amount of polish, the Princes of Allura could shine! Without it, though, they are still lovely novellas of love and redemption, and enjoyable to read!

Love and a Little White Lie – Tammy L. Gray

My love affair with contemporary romance is often a rocky relationship—we’ve been separated off and on for the last five years or so. But, every once and a while, contemporary makes a romantic gesture, and I come running back.

Love and a Little White Lie was one such gesture.

I read Tammy L. Gray’s debut novel, Shattered Rose, a while back. I really appreciated Gray’s boldness in dealing with issues like anorexia, depression, alcohol abuse, and premarital sex—but it wasn’t captivating enough for me to jump at reading more of Gray’s novels. I know better than to judge an author by their debut novel...so once I started seeing so many amazing reviews and recommendations of Love and a Little White Lie, I knew I’d have to read it soon.

Cue my trip to Ollie’s Bargain Outlet, where you’ll often find me purchasing a stack of books that are 75% cheaper than retail and taller than me. I had almost given up hope on finding a $2 must-read one day when something bright blue and gleaming caught my eye.

This novel.

I literally devoured this thing—couldn’t make myself wait until I’d finished all of my other current reads, didn’t bother sleeping at night—and finished it in two days (I used to finish a novel in three hours...but that was before I started doing anything else with my life, so two days is pretty decent these days.)

The love triangle in this book, quite possibly the most important aspect, was one of the most well-done triangles I’ve ever read! (Up there with El/Ky/Josh from Unblemished.) Cameron and Dillon were both so well-developed and just amazing guys. (Spoiler: can I just say that Cam really disappointed me in the end...and that I was rooting Dillon the entire time? Oh, I can’t say that? Well, never mind, then.)

And January? Y’all, January makes my “Best Heroine Ever” shelf. Like, her character was so real and relatable—even though, y’know, I’m not an atheist or anything. She was truly a kind, selfless person, and that was so refreshing to see—especially when most “Christian” heroines are selfish, vain, whiny, and always trying to be something that they’re not. Her transformation was smooth and realistic, and, guys, I just loved Jan. I really did. Sure, she was a blatant liar—but I’m also not supposed to judge the world. Or worldly book characters.

And Dillon? Ugh, no spoilers, but he was my man the whole time. You da man, Dill.

And that woman’s grandma. I ADORE fictional grandmothers—they are just the funniest, wisest, sweetest, most amazing characters you could ever write! (My poor characters...all of their grandmas are dead. Eh, they weren’t that nice anyway.)

Anyway, to keep this review short (it’s supposed to be mini, you know), I’ll just sum things up by saying this novel is SPECTACULAR! The writing is so smooth and balanced, January’s voice coming through loud and clear! The story is paced so well and kept my attention for every chapter.

Oh, side note, the h-word is featured once, and while that might not bother some readers, I prefer not to read cuss words. I do appreciate that Gray didn’t repeat it or portray January’s penchant for cussing as “okay”—rather, even the immoral, atheistic January recognized it as wrong.

Otherwise, it was so clean and beautiful and, yes, I will definitely be reading more of Tammy L. Gray and—who knows—I might even stay with contemporary long-term!

Rules of Murder – Julianna Deering

To be honest, I’m pretty close to speechless after reading this. (Except you know I’m not. I’m rarely ever speechless.) What I am, however, is thoroughly pleased with myself, my powers of discernment, and this book.

(Please note that my “powers of discernment” do not apply to the mystery at hand. What they do apply to is my unwavering belief that I needed to read Rules of Murder.)

You know, I noticed my lovely friend Sophia had recently written a review for...the third book, was it? in this series. Well, Soph has absolutely excellent taste in literature, so I immediately checked out the series. Lo and behold, the first book was available on Kindle Unlimited, so naturally I secured my copy.

And, naturally, I devoured it.

I adore mysteries. The excitement, the uncertainty, the delicious scandals involved (now I sound like a gossip rag). The just not knowing.

I just don’t read a lot of mysteries because (1) I’d rather not read secular fiction (even if it’s Christie); (2) I prefer historical mysteries, and you can’t find very many good ones in the Christian fiction section; and (3) I gotta have romance. Wonder why I prefer Remington Steele to Murder, She Wrote? Romance. (Not to mention young Pierce Brosnan is way hotter than Angela Lansbury. No offense.)

So when I saw all of the Christian, romantic, historical, just plain amazing goodness jam-packed into Rules of Murder, guess what I did?

Read it.

Y’all, this. is. Perfect. It’s everything you could ever want in a mystery, all tied up nice and neatly in that vintage brown paper packaging. Not to mention tied up with string. Those are a few of my favorite things.

Ahem. Enough singing. Back to the reviewing.

Let’s see, there was Jesus. Like, in the most natural, everyday, beautiful, gentlest kind of ways. Even a preachy, Pentecostal fire kind of girl can appreciate such a tender and subtle yet so very there representation of faith. Drew at the bathtub? Y’all, that was such a lovely moment. Such a lovely moment. (And not because Drew probably looked really good with his hair all wet and mused and his chest bared and everything.) Like, why don’t Christian writers have their Christian characters experience such moments with God? You know, with that total faith and surrender? With those soul-deep prayers?

Speaking of Drew...gosh, it was like Remington Steele met George Bailey met...I don’t know. Poirot? Something like that. He was all jaunty and British and smart and just plain adorable. He is definitely the kind of protagonist I can love and want more of—definitely the kind of guy that’ll keep me reading for however many books he’s got.

Did I mention he was adorable?

And Madeline? Y’all, it seriously doesn’t get any better than a sweet American girl like Madeline. She was intelligent, strong, and feisty (typical American, amiright?) and yet she was also so gentle and caring and beautiful. And she wasn’t even the main character! UGH! I NEED heroines like Madeline in my regular historical romances. This girl was GOLD!

Not to mention she and Drew were the CUTEST!

(Yes, I’m shifting into all-caps here. Pardon the public display of emotion—PDE.)

So, yeah, on that subject, I think a lot of people said that it was kind of insta-love, and maybe for the 1890s or the 2020s it was. But if you know the 30s like I know the 30s (I’m presuming all of my old-TV-show-watching has granting me credible knowledge of the 30s), then you know that IT WAS TOTALLY REALISTIC. Like, the vintage vibes were OFF THE CHARTS.

And honestly? The infamous and dreaded insta-love (get this, I hate it too, guys) is mainly physical. Physical attraction. Physical touch. Physical electric sparks (I HATE electric sparks; they’re by far the dumbest thing you could ever write into your romance...but that’s a rant for another day).

HOWEVER (there’s always a “however” in mysteries), Madi and Drew’s seemingly quick romance was NOT physical. I mean, sure, they held hands and kissed. But it wasn’t their appearances or hormones or electrical-charged kisses that drew them together. It was Drew’s steadfastness and Madi’s caring. Her strength and vitality. His genuine love. Their reactions under pressures and the true colors they showed in such dire situations.

That is what romance is all about. Seeing something deep and abiding in a person and admiring it. Not just admiring it, but wanting to sustain it and keep it alive. Wanting to give your all for another person’s happiness no matter the cost—and not because they’re sexy or they feel good. Because they’re worth the sacrifice, worth your love, worth you waking up every morning and choosing to be there for them because you want to, not because your emotions tell you to. Because that’s how Jesus loves us. Even when His emotions were begging God to let the cup pass, He chose to sacrifice Himself for us. Because He wanted to. Because the life we will have with Him in Heaven is worth paying for.

Anyway. Um, yeah, that was off-topic. Where was I?

Oh, yes. The mystery. That’s, like, the main part, isn’t it?

Y’all, this was a mystery that would make Agatha Christie and Georgette Heyer and the many Carolyn Keenes proud. (Yes, I’m a Nancy Drew fan. Anyone notice that our lovely mystery-solving protagonist’s name is Drew? Coincidence? I think not.)

I mean, I really like to be able to figure things out and have it all settled in my mind...but as calm and organized as that is, sometimes the Queen of Assumptions needs a break from all that assuming. Sometimes it is way more fun to be so thoroughly wrong. Actually, I never could make a firm assessment, so I wasn’t so much wrong as I was not right. (It makes sense to me.)

Everything was so consistent and well-planned and developed and...ugh. I knew there was something off with that guy, but I NEVER would’ve thought him so completely vile. Hence why this is such a great mystery. Like, it makes sense, but you never pieced it together. Enigmatic perfection. All of the red herrings and strange happenings and presumptions and skewed judgments served to make this mystery one of the best I’ve ever read.

Not to mention Drew, Nick, and Madi are just the best detectives ever.

Oh, I haven’t gotten to Nick yet! Well, let me just say that, boy, was he a character! I loved him too, and, yes, I know people are saying that it’s totally unrealistic that Drew would be friends with the son of his butler...but look. The author knew that would be weird, so she fashioned the perfect situation that makes their unlikely friendship make total sense. Every good author does that—mixes things up, but gives you a myriad of good and convincing reasons. Then who can complain?

(The haters, obviously, but I ain’t got time to get all Taylor Swift on all of them.)

Now, I guess it’s time I cut this “mini” review off before it gets really long. So, to sum up all my gushing, Rules of Murder was fabulous. The concept? Splendid. The mystery? Gosh, so good! The characters? Perfection. The romance? Even better! The spiritual content? Let’s just say Jesus would be proud. The writing...which I totally forgot to mention, but you know what? Who cares! Yeah, that was awesome too. Perfectly balanced and well-paced.

Long story short, I will definitely be breaking the bank to finish this series...and get started on a mystery series of my own!

Finders Keepers – Sarah Monzon

After reading Bookishly Ever After, I knew I had to jump at the chance to read more by Sarah Monzon. So I went straight to Finders Keepers, the book that put Monzon on my authors-to-read list in the first place.

Admittedly, it didn’t have the same humor and wit that BEA did—but then, I think BEA can be categorized as chick lit or a rom-com, so that’s probably why. So, yes, that was a little disappointing, since I didn’t really laugh out loud while reading this book.

What I did, however, was fall in love with two different love stories.

To be frank, I hate split-time books. Split-time romances included. I hardly ever read them, because when I do? Cringe. They’re so...undeveloped and uninspired. Like, give me a good reason to continue reading at least one of the stories. Better yet, give me a good reason for why you entwined two stories in one book to begin with!

Anyway, I’ll save that rant for another day, but Finders Keepers does not deserve my anger.

Why?

Because it flowed so smoothly and everything was so well-balanced and developed. There was such great pacing and scene arrangement here, and just the way Monzon pulled off this entire novel was stupendous.

That being said, I do have my qualms. Don’t I always?

As good as the overall plot and the technicalities of the story were, I just couldn’t like the characters. I didn’t expect to like Summer or Isabella (hardly ever like the heroines), so it didn’t come as a surprise to me when I just couldn’t connect with them or picture them vividly. But I felt the same way about Trent! (Which is really weird, because he’s my kind of guy.) He got better, and he was never really bad to begin with—none of the characters were. I just...I don’t know if they were lacking something or if I just couldn’t really connect with them.

On the flip side, I really connected with Captain Montoya. Now he was a hero I can admire. Let’s just say I’d been rooting for him the whole time. I honestly would have like more of him and Isabella (spoiler, sorry) at the end, rather than just being left hanging.

Now, where was I?

Oh, yes. Trent. I liked his brokenness and I appreciated how tastefully Monzon handled his character...and when he called Marissa? Woo-wee, I got chills! That was something right there, quite possibly my favorite part of this book! But I won’t spoil anything, so you’ll just have to read that for yourself.

So, yes, I do have mixed feelings about Finders Keepers. I felt a little distant from the characters, but that’s just me personally. But when I walked away from this book? I was definitely thinking five stars! It was a pleasant and inspiring and so well-done experience, and I will without a doubt continue reading this series!

The American Crisis - Thomas Paine

I stumbled upon this article from the Revolutionary War by hearing the first part of it read out loud. Y'all, Thomas Paine's article struck a chord in me, and I knew I just had to share! Now, this thing is extremely long and most of it is focused on the war, so I've divided it into the most interesting sections. Or, rather, the parts that truly resonate with America's position today.

So, without further ado, I hope y'all enjoy! Oh, and stay tuned for an extra treat at the end! (By the way, you can read the full version here!)

December 23, 1776

THESE are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be highly rated. Britain, with an army to enforce her tyranny, has declared that she has a right (not only to TAX) but "to BIND us in ALL CASES WHATSOEVER" and if being bound in that manner, is not slavery, then is there not such a thing as slavery upon earth. Even the expression is impious; for so unlimited a power can belong only to God.

I have as little superstition in me as any man living, but my secret opinion has ever been, and still is, that God Almighty will not give up a people to military destruction, or leave them unsupportedly to perish, who have so earnestly and so repeatedly sought to avoid the calamities of war, by every decent method which wisdom could invent. Neither have I so much of the infidel in me, as to suppose that He has relinquished the government of the world, and given us up to the care of devils; and as I do not, I cannot see on what grounds the king of Britain can look up to heaven for help against us: a common murderer, a highwayman, or a house-breaker, has as good a pretence as he.

I once felt all that kind of anger, which a man ought to feel, against the mean principles that are held by the Tories: a noted one, who kept a tavern at Amboy, was standing at his door, with as pretty a child in his hand, about eight or nine years old, as I ever saw, and after speaking his mind as freely as he thought was prudent, finished with this unfatherly expression, "Well! give me peace in my day." Not a man lives on the continent but fully believes that a separation must some time or other finally take place, and a generous parent should have said, "If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace;" and this single reflection, well applied, is sufficient to awaken every man to duty. Not a place upon earth might be so happy as America. Her situation is remote from all the wrangling world, and she has nothing to do but to trade with them. A man can distinguish himself between temper and principle, and I am as confident, as I am that God governs the world, that America will never be happy till she gets clear of foreign dominion. Wars, without ceasing, will break out till that period arrives, and the continent must in the end be conqueror; for though the flame of liberty may sometimes cease to shine, the coal can never expire.

America did not, nor does not want force; but she wanted a proper application of that force. Wisdom is not the purchase of a day, and it is no wonder that we should err at the first setting off.

Say not that this is revenge, call it rather the soft resentment of a suffering people, who, having no object in view but the good of all, have staked their own all upon a seemingly doubtful event. Yet it is folly to argue against determined hardness; eloquence may strike the ear, and the language of sorrow draw forth the tear of compassion, but nothing can reach the heart that is steeled with prejudice.

Quitting this class of men, I turn with the warm ardor of a friend to those who have nobly stood, and are yet determined to stand the matter out: I call not upon a few, but upon all: not on this state or that state, but on every state: up and help us; lay your shoulders to the wheel; better have too much force than too little, when so great an object is at stake. Let it be told to the future world, that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive, that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet and to repulse it. Say not that thousands are gone, turn out your tens of thousands; throw not the burden of the day upon Providence, but "show your faith by your works," that God may bless you. It matters not where you live, or what rank of life you hold, the evil or the blessing will reach you all. The far and the near, the home counties and the back, the rich and the poor, will suffer or rejoice alike. The heart that feels not now is dead; the blood of his children will curse his cowardice, who shrinks back at a time when a little might have saved the whole, and made them happy. I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. 'Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death. My own line of reasoning is to myself as straight and clear as a ray of light. Not all the treasures of the world, so far as I believe, could have induced me to support an offensive war, for I think it murder; but if a thief breaks into my house, burns and destroys my property, and kills or threatens to kill me, or those that are in it, and to "bind me in all cases whatsoever" to his absolute will, am I to suffer it? What signifies it to me, whether he who does it is a king or a common man; my countryman or not my countryman; whether it be done by an individual villain, or an army of them? If we reason to the root of things we shall find no difference; neither can any just cause be assigned why we should punish in the one case and pardon in the other. Let them call me rebel and welcome, I feel no concern from it; but I should suffer the misery of devils, were I to make a whore of my soul by swearing allegiance to one whose character is that of a sottish, stupid, stubborn, worthless, brutish man. I conceive likewise a horrid idea in receiving mercy from a being, who at the last day shall be shrieking to the rocks and mountains to cover him, and fleeing with terror from the orphan, the widow, and the slain of America.

There are cases which cannot be overdone by language, and this is one. There are persons, too, who see not the full extent of the evil which threatens them; they solace themselves with hopes that the enemy, if he succeed, will be merciful. It is the madness of folly, to expect mercy from those who have refused to do justice; and even mercy, where conquest is the object, is only a trick of war; the cunning of the fox is as murderous as the violence of the wolf, and we ought to guard equally against both.

I thank God, that I fear not. I see no real cause for fear. I know our situation well, and can see the way out of it.

By perseverance and fortitude we have the prospect of a glorious issue; by cowardice and submission, the sad choice of a variety of evils - a ravaged country - a depopulated city - habitations without safety, and slavery without hope - our homes turned into barracks and bawdy-houses for Hessians, and a future race to provide for, whose fathers we shall doubt of. Look on this picture and weep over it! and if there yet remains one thoughtless wretch who believes it not, let him suffer it unlamented.