E.B. Roshan's Blog: This, That and the Other, page 16

Work in Progress: Forever and Always by Kate (A.K.A. The Perilous Pen)

Today, I’m pleased to introduce the final (for now) young writer to be featured in my Works in Progress series. However, if you’re interested in being featured in the future, don’t hesitate to get in contact with me. My email is on the “About Me and My Books” page.

Here’s what she has to say about herself and her story…

I’m Kate, a teen writer from Iowa. My dream is to become a New York Times Bestselling author one day! I hope to be published soon, so I’m very excited about this! When I’m not writing, I love acting and sports. 

Forever and Always is a novel about a girl who struggles against survivor’s guilt and forgiving the man who ruined her life. She fights to trust God again, and ultimately find her worth. It’s a story of loss, hope, forgiveness, family, and purpose. It’s been in the making since 2017, and I hope that one day, it will make the NYT Bestsellers List.

And here’s an excerpt from Forever and Always:

“Today was…” I search for the right word.
“Epic? Super fun? Totally awesome?” Kennedy offers.

“Strenuous,” I decide. “And also tiresome.”

She nods. “I know what you mean. But it was a lot of fun, wasn’t it? The games, the food, the conversations, the gifts.” She grins slyly. “And the kisses. Speaking of which, how was yours?”

“Stop it,” I say, whacking her with a pillow.

She just laughs. “The look on Jackson’s face was priceless; did you see how shocked he was?”

“I was a little wrapped up at the time,” I reply, raising my eyebrows. “Remember?”

“Oh, that’s right. You were too busy making out to notice.”

“Cut it out, dork!” I hit her with the pillow again, and she holds up her hands in mock defense.

“You know what they say,” she giggles, “if you’re making out, you’re missing out.” Kennedy laughs harder as I attack her with my pillow, until finally, she gasps, “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.”

“Good,” I say, sitting down again.

She sits up. “So, what was your favorite gift?”

 I think for a second. “It’s probably a tie between the necklace Christian gave me, and the gift box you gave me. What about you?”

“Hmm…probably my new Belmont sweatshirt,” she says mischievously.

“Right, of course,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“I’m kidding; your inspiration box was my favorite,” Kennedy says, leaning over and hugging me. “Love you Bear.”

I laugh. “Bear” is what Kennedy used to call me when we were little. My nickname for her was Tiger (don’t ask me why). “Love you too, Tiger.”

“You remembered,” she says, clearly surprised.

“Duh, yeah I remembered,” I say. “Hey, didn’t Knox have a nickname, too?”

“Lion,” she replies. “Remember why we called each other that?”

I blink. “There was a reason?”

“Of course!” Kennedy smacks my arm. “Did you seriously forget?”

“Well, I kind of forgot the nickname until now,” I admit.

“Savannah,” she scolds me. “How could you forget something like that? We got the name from The Wizard of Oz; you know, the part where they go, “Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my!”?”

“Wait, actually?”

“Actually.” She raises her eyebrows. “You forgot, huh?”

“Well, it’s not the kind of thing I’d recall,” I say defensively. “Besides, my memory isn’t as good as yours.”

She snorts. “You’re talking to a girl with a brain tumor; memory loss is legit one of the symptoms.”

“Oh.” Well, I feel like an idiot. “Sorry,” I apologize awkwardly.

Kennedy shrugs. “Not your fault. Now change the subject; it’s my birthday, and I’m not going to waste it by feeling sorry for myself, got it?”

“Got it.” I can’t help smiling at her. “Umm….new topic…”

“We could watch the cheese video,” Kennedy says

“Nothing. I could look it up, though.”

“You could!” Kennedy says enthusiastically. I give her another blank stare, and she gasps. “Oh no. Don’t tell me you don’t know what that’s from?”

“Is it bad if I say yes?”

This time, it’s Kennedy who hits me with the pillow. “Studio C, nitwit; you know, Prom Date Replacement?”

“I don’t remember,” I say, giggling as I try to fend off her blows.

“That’s it,” she says, tossing down the pillow, “we’re going to stay up all night and watch Studio C until you know all the quotes by heart.” She jumps off the bed, racing over to my desk and flipping open my laptop. “Your password is still BabyHamilton2, right?”

“Yup.” It’s kind of an easy password to guess, but I like it anyway. Plus, my laptop rarely leaves my room, and thanks to the security cameras around our house, no unwanted guests ever get in, either, so I don’t think I really have to worry about someone guessing my password.

Besides, the only people who would know that I go by Baby Hamilton are most likely the ones who call me that. So the odds of someone breaking into my computer are small.

Kennedy logs in and goes straight to Youtube. “This is going to be an all-nighter,” she tells me.

“Ooh, I’ll get the snacks,” I say, hopping off my bed.

“Don’t bother– I already brought them up,” she says, grinning. “They’re in my closet, hiding from the boys.”

“How did you bring them up without anyone noticing?” I ask, amazed.

“Talent, my dear,” she replies in a British accent. “Simple talent.”

“Suuuure,” I say, nodding. “Now how about using that talent to help me sneak some blackberry ice cream up here?”

Language and Time

Here’s an intriguing look at how people coming from different linguistic backgrounds have vastly differing concepts of time: Language and Time

Leoshine Treasure Hunt

I’m excited about this book, and honored to be part of this treasure hunt and celebration. To learn how you can participate, read on…

Welcome to our Famous Canadian Women Internet Treasure Hunt! We’re so glad you’re here to play! 

You are doing well! You have signed up at Leoshine’s website and got the key to cracking the code. (If you still need to do that, we’ll hold your place here while you do!)

You have found real treasure – one of ten pictures that represent the name of a famous Canadian woman in the Aeolian script specially developed by Travis Williams for the Sci Fi/ Fantasy Leoshine, Princess Oracle written by N. MacCameron and due to be released in May.

Your next task is to solve the puzzle, crack the code, decipher the script to learn which Famous Canadian Woman you have found. Keep track of each name you decode so you can put it in the form that comes at the end.

You get bonus points if you can say where in Canada this wonderful woman lived(s) and how she contributed to the world as a better place.  

Once you find all ten treasures, follow the last link to the answers form. If the deadline – March 13th 2021 11:59pm MST – comes before you find all of them, send what you have! Prizes will be announced on March 14th 2021. You could win an audiobook of Leoshine, Princess Oracle by N. MacCameron, an eBook of Discerning Grace by Emma Lombard, or a digital background of the map developed by .

If you play after March 14th 2021, great! There’s a prize for you too! Keep playing through to the end!

Thank you for playing! Secret codes are great, aren’t they? By following them, you get treasure! You have fun! You meet new people!

Your next treasure island link is https://elementaladaptation.com/

Book Spotlight: One Step Forward by Brandi Jo Little

One Step Forward is the story of Hadley, a young widow struggling to heal from the loss of her husband, and Aaron, the son of wealthy parents and heir to his father’s company. Aaron gets a great “deal” in the form of a beautiful, but decrepit old house that he hopes to fix up and re-sell. Hadley just happens to be a skilled home renovator and interior designer, so it’s no surprise that they meet and hit it off…sort of. Of course these things take time, and like everyone, Hadley and Aaron both have their fair share of internal and external challenges to face if their relationship is going to work. It’s going well, until the day a mysterious bouquet of wildflowers shows up at Hadley’s house, and they realize that someone really doesn’t want them together.
I enjoyed the skill the author showed in developing her characters adding depth and complexity to the story as they get to know themselves, and each other better. It was fun to slip into the mind of a woman who’s passionate about her work, and also very good at it. The ongoing theme of the dilapidated house slowly being restored was an excellent supporting (and sometimes counter) thread to the progress of Hadley and Aaron’s relationship.
The author writes well, and aside from a few bobbles–I didn’t understand why the fact of Hadley’s widowhood was kept from the reader for so long, and I didn’t feel that the character of Aaron’s Dad was handled in a particularly believable way–I really enjoyed this story.
In fact, I would have given it a higher rating, but unfortunately, at roughly the 80% mark, things went off the rails, leaving us with a villain who made no sense, and a rushed, unrealistic conclusion. I like a good surprise as much as the next reader, but plot twists that appear out of the blue with no foreshadowing, and happy endings that feel like the author just got tired and decided to put a bow on it leave me feeling unsatisfied.

I received a free copy of One Step Forward from the author in exchange for a fair and honest review. Check out the book HERE.

Works in Progress: Grace and Kiet’s Story by Naiya

Today I’m delighted to share Naiya’s thoughts about her work in progress, the story of Grace and Kiet, two young people with tragic pasts and uncertain futures…

“I’ve been technically working on this book since I was eleven. Back then, it was an entirely different story with a different plot and characters barely recognizable in this draft. Now, it’s a novel truly coming to life, with characters I love and a theme I believe in. Throughout the story pulses the truth that God can take horrible circumstances, past and present, and use them for something beautiful and good. That is what I hope to convey with my words. “

About the Story:

Sixteen-year-old Grace Hammond has felt enough pain. After losing her beloved father, she determines to guard herself against further hurt, keeping others at arm’s length as she trains to become a healer like Papa.
 
Yet things don’t work out as planned. Training alongside her is Kiet Hulsaba—a boy from the tribe of Sirakani raiders, masters of poisons who lay waste to defenseless Cresban villages. Many in her village distrust him. Tensions rise surrounding Kiet, and hints of his stormy past grow stronger by the day.
 
Kiet, however, is anything but ruthless, living with a kind heart and a gentle hand. As his mild nature cracks at her defenses, the desire for friendship and the fear of pain battle within her. Can she trust a boy with Sirakani blood? Is she strong enough to open her heart again? Or would it be safer to live behind a wall of stone?

And here’s an excerpt from the story:

A high-pitched shriek echoed from further down the path. Our wide eyes met. Kiet broke into a run, fingers tightly wrapped around the handle of the knife. I followed, cursing my skirt every step of the way.

A few moments later, Kiet stopped, his gaze darting about. “Maika!” he called frantically. Deathly silence answered. The lantern flickered eerily on the pines. He gulped. “Maika!” he repeated, panting hard.

A small sob broke the darkness nearby. His head jerked to the side, and he raced into the trees, narrowly missing a branch with his head. An instant later, he froze in his tracks.

Maika stood under the hemlock beside us, eyes huge and watery, fixed on a vague form not ten feet away. A pair of yellow eyes pierced the shadows just past the reach of the lantern’s light. My heart stopped.

Snow wolf.

The white-furred creature bared his teeth and limped closer, an arrow protruding from its hind leg. Kiet set the lantern by his foot, seizing the five-year-old’s arm with his left hand and readying his knife with his right. He leaned into a solid stance. My mind snapped into action. If I can distract it from the side, that could give Kiet enough time to—

The snow wolf leapt into the air. Kiet’s eyes flashed in the firelight. Shoving Maika behind him, he raised the knife and lunged.

Kiet’s feet kicked up pine needles as the blade drove deep into the beast’s chest. Thrusting it forward, he threw the wolf away from him along with the knife and panted, wiping damp black hair from his eyes as one knee hit the ground.

A long moment later, he straightened and pulled the bloody blade from the wolf’s body, then turned and knelt in front of Maika. I sucked in a breath I hadn’t noticed I’d been holding.

His bloodstained hand touched her shoulder. “Mijawa kowa?” he asked softly, his demeanor switching from fiercely protective to gentle like a sudden change in the weather. Before the trembling girl could respond, however, a figure leapt from the shadows and shoved Kiet onto his back on the ground, flinging the knife from his hand.

            “Kaishite!” The lantern threw yellow light over Gerik’s twisted features. He gritted his teeth, pinning Kiet’s shoulders to the ground. “Ira katera mekizu!”

            I rushed forward and tried to shove him off. “What are you doing? Let go of him!”

            Gerik’s eyes flickered with fury as he looked up at me. “You idiot—he just stabbed your cousin!” He turned his burning glare on the boy in his grip. “And for what—her blood, for that poison? Yomande!”

He raised a fist. Kiet’s eyes glinted with pure fear. He struggled under the grip of Gerik’s free hand and managed to dodge the punch aimed at his jaw.

Maika wailed behind us. Gerik tossed a glance over his shoulder and paused. The girl shoved tears away with a fist, choking on sobs. Pulling her into a hug, I narrowed my eyes at Gerik.

“Kiet just saved her life from that snow wolf.” I jerked my head toward the limp corpse on the ground. “Or did you fail to notice that detail?”

He stilled for a moment, expression unchanging. Finally, he released Kiet’s shoulder and rose, eyes no less threatening than before.

“You’re a fool to trust him, Grace,” he said in a low voice. “Mark my words—if you let him get close enough, he’ll stab your back the moment it’s turned. He’s got murder in his Sirakani veins. Nothing can change that. Can’t you see how he fights?” With that, he shifted the bow across his back and stalked back into the brush.

I patted Maika’s back and looked at the boy on the ground. “Kiet, are you alri—”

I stopped at the look on Kiet’s face. The boy trembled, eyes wide and glimmering with tears. Forehead twisting, I knelt beside him.

“Hey, what’s the matter?”

Instead of responding, he scrambled away from me, tense to the tips of his fingers. For several long moments, he simply sat there, taking short, shaky breaths and staring at me with a stricken expression. I let go of Maika’s shoulder as her cries softened.

“Kiet,” I said slowly, “it’s not like we’re going to hurt you.” I inched closer. He flinched. I hesitated. Even with Gerik’s attack, his reaction seemed a little extreme.

After a few seconds, I realized he was barely breathing—if at all. My heart pounded as I knelt in front of him. “Hey—hey, are you alright?”

Finally, with a few tense moments, he stirred. His eyes cleared, as though a layer of frost had been scraped from glass. He cast quick glances about the clearing, swallowed hard, and took a deep breath, cheeks growing red.

“Sorry,” he said, voice cracking as he ducked his head. I stepped back as he rose but kept my eyes on him, confusion replacing worry.

“Kiet, what was that?”

He avoided my gaze as he reached for the knife on the ground and wiped the blade. “What was what?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You know what. What were you so scared of just then?”

“It’s nothing.” His voice was barely audible.

“No, it wasn’t. Just answer the question.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re—”

“I said I’m fine!” He stopped and shot a glare at me over his shoulder.

I stiffened. Abruptly, he turned away, taking Maika’s hand. “Rineja kamire sazaka.” The girl looked at me for a moment, then padded after him back toward the cottage.

I stood in the clearing, dead snow wolf on one side, flickering lantern on the other. My head hurt.

What. . . what between the rivers was that?

The image in today’s post is a drawing of Grace and Kiet by a friend of the author.

Random Writing Tip #10

“Be concrete and concise.”

Follow Strunk and White’s advice, and you’ll never go wrong.

Liebster Award

Thank you, Kristina Hall for nominating me for the prestigious Liebster Blog Award!

First off, the rules:

1. Thank the person who nominated you, include a link to their blog, and add the Liebster Award badge to your blog and/or post.

2. Answer the eleven questions from the person who nominated you.

3. Give eleven random facts about yourself.

4. Nominate 5-11 fellow bloggers with less than 200 followers.

5. Notify your nominees that you nominated them for the Liebster Award.

6. Ask your nominees eleven questions.

Here are my answers to the eleven questions Kristina asked me:

What’s your favorite book? Yikes. Hard to pick just one….over the years, Moby Dick, The Brothers Karamazov, The Ballad of the White Horse, A Chance to Die, The Complete Father Brown Mysteries…I could go on, but I won’t.Who’s your favorite author? I’ve enjoyed everything I read by C.S. Lewis. Also, G.K. Chesterton.How many books do you read per year? On average, about forty, I’d say.What’s your least favorite book? It was called “Matt and Sam,” I think. Or maybe “Matt Sat on Sam?” Drove me crazy.Who’s your least favorite author? Whoever wrote that book. No hate—I know that kind of book has to exist, but what a relief it was to be able to read real books!Do you have a favorite exercise? Ummm…exercise…well…I’m familiar with the concept, but…I walk. Sometimes. Does that count?What’s your favorite genre to read? I like nonfiction—history, biography, memoir, travel works. I also enjoy detective mysteries. Dorothy Sayers and Agatha Christie, that kind of thing.Do you like ebooks or paperbacks? Ebooks are so convenient, but I do love reading a real book.Have you ever been nominated for this award before? Nope. This is my first time.What is your favorite hobby? Besides writing, probably gardening. Unless cleaning up other people’s messes counts as a hobby?What’s your favorite way to waste time? Sleeping.

Now, eleven random facts about me:

You don’t want to know.I’m the oldest of eleven children.With all the time I spent trying to learn how to swim, you’d think I’d be able to…My favorite childhood pet was a rooster named Genghis Khan. He lived up to the name.I never use a kitchen timer, and I (almost) never burn food.My sons’ initials are Z and Q. If I have another son, his will be Y.I never thought I’d get into novel-writing, let alone self-publishing, but then…Coronavirus.My Grandfather taught me Greek. I can read it, but can’t speak it.I speak Farsi, but don’t read it (at least not well.)My husband cuts my hair. I like it quite short.You really don’t want to know.

I nominate the following bloggers for the Liebster Award:

Maya J

Zachary

Hope M

Kellyn Roth

The Voyaging Storyteller

Edmund Lloyd Fletcher

And here are my questions for them:

Do you still live in the same place you were born?What’s you’re number one writing inspiration?If you like to listen to music when you write, what kind do you enjoy?What’s a Bible verse/passage that’s been important for you in the last year?Should dogs be allowed indoors?Of your own books/stories, do you have a favorite?Is the thought of others reading your writing exciting or terrifying?If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?Do you find your best creative flow early in the morning, late at night, or somewhere in between?Favorite song?When it comes to writing, who’s your biggest encouragement?

Works in Progress: Pageseekers, by Hope

A timid boy trying to save his ailing mother…

A feisty girl striving to impress her father…

A curious girl eager to explore…

And the mysterious ice boy wandering the land…

All united by a single call: “Come. Now is the time to find healing.”

Four children, strangers, set off on an odd quest to reassemble an ancient text. For generations its pages have been scattered throughout Tiphereth Erets. It has been prophesied that should every page be united, great healing would come. It can be no coincidence that this calling arrives just as a widespread sickness conquers a record wave of victims. So without warning or proper greetings, Asmund, Firn, Hydra, and Cillian pack their bags. 

Their journey will push this ragtag group past their limits. An endless labyrinth of stone, the depths of an underwater city, frostbitten mountains, a broiling volcano, booby traps, and mighty dragon lairs—all for a book. As doubts and questions arise, little do they know their travels will take them through the depths of their greatest fears.

Here’s what Hope has to say about her latest work:

“I’ve been working on Pageseekers for over three years now, and it’s come a long way from a few scenic images and a handful of vague characters. It’s been quite the journey so far. I know God has had His hand in it. I couldn’t have even made it this far without His help. Time and time again I’ve been at the point of quitting, or I’ve had a problem I couldn’t resolve, and God has provided beyond what I’ve needed. Habakkuk 2:2-3 have been my writing verses. I write it in every journal and pray it over my writing sessions.

Some days I wonder if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. I have four main characters and I rotate through them all as point of view characters as well. And more than that, none of them are humans. The fantasy world where the story takes place has no humans in it at all. It’s all centaurs, dwarves, fairies, and naiads, as well as the regular retinue of dragons and other fantasy creatures of my own design. My main characters are Firn (centaur), Asmund (centaur), Hydra (naiad), and Cillian (who is a creature not quite human, called the Ice Boy).

Writing from the point of view of these kinds of fantasy creatures has been a challenge, but a very fun one. It’s been a slow process, but I hope to have a completed first draft by this September. Based on the outline and how much of it I’ve written out so far, it will be well over 100k words, possibly more than 200k. I believe God put this story on my heart and has equipped me to write it for His glory. I want to entertain, intrigue, and delight my readers, as well as point them to the Creator who loves them dearly.”

An excerpt from Pageseekers: 

“Chase them out of the village!” came from behind them.
They bolted. Cillian led them dashing around corners and through the streets, which were tight but thankfully free of debris. Rather than going straight out of the village, they wove through in hopes of shaking off their pursuers, who could still be heard in an angry din. Firn didn’t know where Cillian was taking them, but he seemed to know his way alright. She only wished they could go faster than Cillian and Hydra’s shorter strides allowed. More than once Hydra stumbled in her haste, so Firn picked her up by the arms so she wouldn’t get tangled in Firn’s hooves and send them both tumbling. By the third time Firn simply swung the girl onto her back. Hydra wrapped her arms around Firn’s waist, her heaving breaths tickling her ear.
The foursome twisted and wove through the narrow streets, and at last the voices of the mob receded. A few minutes after the sounds died away, they decided it was safe to slow down. Her bloodbeat raced in her ears. The coolness of Hydra’ liquid composition felt rather good, but she trembled and pressed her legs tightly around the girthline.
Firn spoke over her shoulder. “Relax, I think we’re in the clear for the moment.”
Hydra nodded.
Cillian spoke up. “All the same, this place is small, so we should probably stay in the orchards on the outskirts of the village until we figure out what our next step is.”
Hydra slid off of Firn’s back as they started onward, but just then Firn froze. Voices, gruff and ill-tempered, came from nearby.
“Hide!” she hissed.
Cillian and Hydra dove into a shadowed alcove. The only place large enough to conceal two centaurs was a small storefront whose door was left agape. Firn took it. She pointed it out to Asmund, who dashed in first, then she backed in, closing the door. She held the handle still and waited with bated breath.
They appeared to be in a leather working shop. The scents of leather and mink oil permeated the air. Apparently no one had been in it recently. All of the tools and supplies were neatly put away. It was roomier on the inside than it had appeared, however the ceilings were painfully low.
The voices were just outside the door now.
“…all over the village and haven’t found them. If they’re smart they’d’ve hightailed it out of the village. But I don’t hold out much hope for their intelligence seeing as they marched right in here and demanded that special heirloom from us.”
“And the nerve of that Ice Boy to come back with them. As much as he’s been around he’s probably contagious.”
“The last thing we need is a wave of blistering fever in the village. Hopefully our little reminder will knock into him some sense to pack up that impudent little group and leave.”
“At this point I figure if they haven’t been found yet, then they’re not going to be found. I’ve got a wife and child to return to back home.”
“So that’s it then? What about the shop?”
The other one scoffed. “Let the magistrates run their errands, I say. And no one’s been in the shop all day. Everything’s put up so I’m going to lock up and go home.”
Firn’s stomach dropped and a flash of goosebumps spread up her arms. She whipped a glance over her shoulder. No rear exit. They couldn’t get caught and taken to the magistrates. Would they get executed? No, they didn’t do anything bad yet. It was only two dwarves. She could take them. A couple of well placed conks on the head and they could escape into the orchards. Yeah, that could work.
She gripped the door handle until the metal dug into her palm. It jiggled, and she braced herself even more.
Then, a click, and the pair of voices faded away.
Firn stood frozen in a stupor. After a moment she broke out of it and tried the handle. It wouldn’t budge. They were locked in.”

The Featured Image on our post today is a collage the author created for Hydra, the water-nypmph, one of the main characters in Pageseekers.

To learn more, check out Hope’s website at: hopemcclellan.com

1 Corinthians Chapter 13:1-8 (KJV)

Arguably the finest definition of true love ever penned–inspiration for everyone, not just the romance writers among us.

“Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.

 Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth…”

Book Spotlight: Rebel Daughter by Lori Banov Kaufmann

Before I learned that the story of Rebel Daughter was inspired by the actual inscription on an ancient tombstone, I wanted to read it, and after that, I REALLY wanted to read it. In fact, my only concern about was the title—it made me wonder if Esther, the heroine, was going to be another unfortunate iteration of the same 21st century girl, who, though she changes her dress and physical appearance now and again as she travels through history, remains at heart the same disgruntled misfit. I am delighted to say this was not at all the case in Rebel Daughter.

Esther was wonderful—intelligent, brave, and free-spirited, yes, but at the same time, the faithful daughter of a 1st century Jewish priest down to her core. That sense of “otherness” is what makes the discovery of common ground between people who could not be more different so satisfying. A shame more writers of historical fiction do not understand this. But I digress…

Rebel Daughter is beautifully-written, but at the same time, it’s a tragic story, full of violence and one shattering loss after another. I think it would be practically impossible to write a realistic story set in the time of the destruction of Jerusalem that wasn’t, but through it all, Esther’s faith and strength of spirit shine through, just like a star. She fits her name. It was a delight to watch her grow and persevere.

The two main characters in Rebel Daughter, Esther, and the Roman freedman Tiberius, are inspired by real people—the Jewish captive who ended her days in Italy, and the man who set up a gravestone for her. Another major character is also real—but I won’t spoil the pleasant (or not so pleasant) surprise of who that is.

The author spent years researching this book, and it shows—in a good way. Without being heavy-handed, she weaves in all kinds of tiny historical details that lend depth and a sense of true authenticity to the story—like layers of real dust on a movie set. The smells, sights, and even the atmosphere of 1st century Jerusalem come alive.

I received a free copy from the other in exchange for a fair and honest review.