Deborah Vogts's Blog, page 142
February 4, 2011
Superbowl Chili
This is one of Gil's recipes from Snow Melts in Spring.
2 pounds hamburger
one medium onion, chopped
1 Tablespoon chili powder
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper
3 - 15 oz. cans chili or kidney beans
1 - 15 oz. can tomato sauce
1 - 6 oz. can tomato paste
1 - 10 oz. can Ro-Tell diced tomatoes & green chili's
In large saucepan, brown hamburger. Stir in onion and cook till tender. Add seasonings, beans and tomatoes. Bring mixture to a boil and then cover and simmer for two hours, stirring occasionally. Serve with saltine crackers and sliced cheddar cheese. Enjoy!
February 2, 2011
Book Drawing ~ Praying for Rayne
Today, I want to introduce one of my dearest writing friends, Elizabeth Goddard (but I call her Beth.) Although it's only February, Beth has already signed a couple of new book contracts and is busy, busy, busy. Here is an interview I had with her about her writing and her books.How long have you wanted to be a writer? How does it feel to see this "dream" fulfilled? - I've dreamed of writing since in elementary school but never considered pursuing that dream until much later in life, well into my thirties. As for how it feels—wonderful on most days—on other days, the reality of the dream is a lot of work!
What has been the best part of your publishing journey so far? - My wonderful new writing friends!
How would you describe your books or type of writing? - Something I'm learning is that as we grow as writers, our writing and stories can often change or morph into something different or something more. I started out writing historical romantic suspense but eventually published in contemporary romantic suspense. All my romances have a little suspense in them, and my romantic suspense is very suspenseful. How's that?
You have several new releases out right now. Can you tell us what inspired you to write The Camera Never Lies and Praying for Rayne? - For Camera my inspiration was Crater Lake National Park—I changed the park name to a fictional name in the story, though. I knew that I wanted to write a story set there when I visited, and that my character had to be a photographer. So, when the opportunity arose for me to write a romantic mystery, The Camera Never Lies was born. For Praying for Rayne, I watched a program about the water fountain design company that creates amazing water fountains all over the world.As a fellow critique partner, I know the wealth of book ideas inside you. Where do your ideas come from? - When I think back to the days when I was considering whether I wanted to seriously write novels, not just dream about it, the first thing I had to learn was how to come up with ideas—I really had no clue. I remember asking some other aspiring writers at my first writer's conference and they shared to ask the "what if" question. A decade later I find that I can't turn off the idea machine—almost everything I see, everywhere I go has potential. If something really catches my attention, I write it down in an idea file and sometimes I'll end up using that years later.
Do you have a favorite hobby? - My time is almost completely consumed with homeschooling my children and writing. But I'm trying to carve out some time to learn new things that interest me—like right now, I'm trying to learn how to bake bread of all types, and I want to learn to crochet or knit so I can make baby blankets for baby showers. Before I became an author, my hobby was reading.
What are three things about yourself that would surprise your readers? - I've answered this question ten times already, so I'm not sure that I have anything left for surprises. I love living in the country with its wide open spaces and detest living in town. I need my space. It always surprises people that I'm a runner given that I'm overweight! (maybe three miles a day isn't enough) I spent most of my twenties as a career woman, then had my first child at thirty and became a stay at home mom, but my entrepreneurial spirit kept me working at home, too.
I adore country life too! You've recently signed several book contracts. Can you briefly tell us what titles we can expect to see from you in the near future and when they will be available in stores? - Freezing Point is my romantic suspense with Love Inspired Suspense and releases in October 2011. Under the Redwood Tree is a contemporary romance with Heartsong Presents and also releases in October 2011. My most recent contract to sign is for Oregon Outback—a four in one novella collection and I'm writing all the novellas. It releases in April 2012.
Thanks so much for being here, Beth. I know my readers will enjoy your books and come to love you as much as I do. Visit Beth's web site here:
Praying for Rayne by Elizabeth Goddard
Water speaks to Rayne like nothing else on the planet.Which is why she cannot simply stay on the farm and marry Paul like everyone expects. Her job designing and choreographing magnificent fountains is a dream come true—so why does it seem that no one who says they love her can understand her need to create, to express the beauty she sees?
When Jack comes to FountainTech to manage its team of creative designers, he is amazed at the high level of talent he finds there. Expecting to challenge his team, he soon finds his own ideas being challenged, too—professionally and personally.When charges of corporate espionage and theft arise, will the blossoming love between Rayne and Jack survive, or will it shrivel and die like a plant on the vine?If you'd like a chance to win a signed copy of Praying for Rayne, please leave a comment below. A winner will be selected on Sunday, February 6.
*Void where prohibited. Open only to US residents. Odds of winning depend on number of entrants.
January 31, 2011
Free Kindle E-Books
Here are some more FREE Kindle downloads being offered now on Amazon. Some of these are new and others have been offered for awhile so I'm not sure how much longer they'll be available. Remember, you can also download the Kindle application for your computer if you don't own a Kindle. Happy Reading!
Listen by Rene Gutteridge
Nothing ever happens in the small town of Marlo . . . until the residents begin seeing their private conversations posted online for everyone to read. Then it's neighbor against neighbor, friend against friend, as paranoia and violence escalate. The police scramble to identify the person responsible for the posts and pull the plug on the Website before it destroys the town. But what responsibility do the people of the town have for the words they say when they think no one is listening? Life and death are in the power of the tongue.
After the Leaves Fall by Nicole Baart
Julia DeSmit can't wait for her life to begin. After her mother leaves when Julia is nine years old, she's raised by an unassuming, gentle father and a saintly, matriarchal grandmother until her father dies just as Julia is becoming a young adult.
On the cusp of womanhood, Julia feels jaded by her circumstances and longs for a new identity. College seems like the perfect place to start over. But when Julia makes a mistake that will change her life forever, she returns to her grandmother's farm, defeated and convinced of her own worthlessness. Only through the gentle prodding of her loving grandmother does Julia begin to accept the imprint her childhood has left on her life and look for hope in a loving God who longs to make all things new.
Goodness Gracious Green by Judy Christie
Will Lois Barker put down roots in Green . . . or will small-town life be too tough? The charming and uncertain journalist is delighted with her decision to keep The Green News-Item and excited about the possibility of romance with her good-looking catfish farmer/coach neighbor and the growth of her fresh faith and friendships. Her second year in Green has scarcely been rung in, though, before Lois is wrung out. The former owners of the paper want it back. The mayor s dog bites her on the face. A series of fires threaten Lois. And while her friends blossom, Lois feels wilted. Although Lois finds fresh hopes turning stale in her second year in Green, in the midst of challenges and lessons, Lois's journey still explodes with possibilities!
Craving God by Lysa TerKeurst
Has food become more about frustration than fulfillment? Take the 21-day challenge and discover how to: •Break the cycle of "I'll start again on Monday," and feel good about yourself today.•Stop agonizing over numbers on the scale and make peace with your body.•Replace rationalizations that lead to diet failure with wisdom that leads to victory.•Reach your healthy goals and grow closer to God through the process.This ebook is not a how-to manual or the latest, greatest dieting plan. But rather a helpful companion to use alongside whatever healthy eating approach you choose—a Bible study to help you find the "want to" in how to make healthy lifestyle changes. And if you find this 21-day devotional helpful then you will love Lysa TerKeurst's full-length book, Made to Crave.
The One Year Book of Devotions for Couples by Teresa Ferguson
The 365 meditations in this couples' devotional are arranged around 52 themes one theme for each week of the year such as affection, compassion, forgiveness, honor, leadership, mercy, respect, security, trust, and understanding. Scripture passages, real-life stories, prayers, and daily challenge questions give couples a dose of truth, encouragement, and direction to strengthen their marriages. Husbands and wives will learn to give and receive love in a whole new way.
Listen by Rene Gutteridge
Nothing ever happens in the small town of Marlo . . . until the residents begin seeing their private conversations posted online for everyone to read. Then it's neighbor against neighbor, friend against friend, as paranoia and violence escalate. The police scramble to identify the person responsible for the posts and pull the plug on the Website before it destroys the town. But what responsibility do the people of the town have for the words they say when they think no one is listening? Life and death are in the power of the tongue.
After the Leaves Fall by Nicole Baart
Julia DeSmit can't wait for her life to begin. After her mother leaves when Julia is nine years old, she's raised by an unassuming, gentle father and a saintly, matriarchal grandmother until her father dies just as Julia is becoming a young adult.
On the cusp of womanhood, Julia feels jaded by her circumstances and longs for a new identity. College seems like the perfect place to start over. But when Julia makes a mistake that will change her life forever, she returns to her grandmother's farm, defeated and convinced of her own worthlessness. Only through the gentle prodding of her loving grandmother does Julia begin to accept the imprint her childhood has left on her life and look for hope in a loving God who longs to make all things new.
Goodness Gracious Green by Judy Christie
Will Lois Barker put down roots in Green . . . or will small-town life be too tough? The charming and uncertain journalist is delighted with her decision to keep The Green News-Item and excited about the possibility of romance with her good-looking catfish farmer/coach neighbor and the growth of her fresh faith and friendships. Her second year in Green has scarcely been rung in, though, before Lois is wrung out. The former owners of the paper want it back. The mayor s dog bites her on the face. A series of fires threaten Lois. And while her friends blossom, Lois feels wilted. Although Lois finds fresh hopes turning stale in her second year in Green, in the midst of challenges and lessons, Lois's journey still explodes with possibilities!
Craving God by Lysa TerKeurst
Has food become more about frustration than fulfillment? Take the 21-day challenge and discover how to: •Break the cycle of "I'll start again on Monday," and feel good about yourself today.•Stop agonizing over numbers on the scale and make peace with your body.•Replace rationalizations that lead to diet failure with wisdom that leads to victory.•Reach your healthy goals and grow closer to God through the process.This ebook is not a how-to manual or the latest, greatest dieting plan. But rather a helpful companion to use alongside whatever healthy eating approach you choose—a Bible study to help you find the "want to" in how to make healthy lifestyle changes. And if you find this 21-day devotional helpful then you will love Lysa TerKeurst's full-length book, Made to Crave.
The One Year Book of Devotions for Couples by Teresa Ferguson
The 365 meditations in this couples' devotional are arranged around 52 themes one theme for each week of the year such as affection, compassion, forgiveness, honor, leadership, mercy, respect, security, trust, and understanding. Scripture passages, real-life stories, prayers, and daily challenge questions give couples a dose of truth, encouragement, and direction to strengthen their marriages. Husbands and wives will learn to give and receive love in a whole new way.
January 28, 2011
Russian Tea Cakes
This is a recipe I like to make during the holidays or for special tea parties.
1 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup powdered sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla
2 cups flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup strawberry/raspberry preserves
1/4 cup powdered sugar
Preheat oven to 325 degrees. In mixing bowl, cream together butter and powdered sugar. Add vanilla. Blend in flour and salt and mix thoroughly. Roll tablespoons of dough into 1 inch balls. Place on lightly greased cookie sheets. Press down center with thumb or spoon. Fill center with a teaspoon of preserves. Bake 15-20 minutes until golden brown. Cool on wire racks. When cool, dust with powdered sugar. Makes 2 dozen.
January 26, 2011
Addie of the Flint Hills
Part of my research for the Seasons of the Tallgrass series includes reading all I can about the Kansas Flint Hills. This past fall, I came across this book about Adaline Sorace. I've found it quite interesting and well worth reading.
Addie of the Flint Hills
A Prairie Child During the Depression
Addie of the Flint Hills is the autobiography of a small-town American girl whose life is played out against the turbulent economic times of the 1920s and 1930s.
Addie wrote this book in reaction to all the news about the economic difficulties America is facing today. She wanted her grandchildren and other members of a younger generation to know that "Today is heaven." Addie, her parents and her grandparents lived through hard times and, almost without realizing it, built something better for themselves and their communities. Her message is one of hope for the future whatever the present circumstances may bring.
Addie's vivid memories transport the reader back into the hardscrabble life that was typical for her generation. And, in the end, Addie of the Flint Hills weaves a complex tale of ordinary folks struggling with universal themes: a family struggles as the economy falters, a father is away at work, a highly educated woman and mother is alone, and a young girl never learns that she is beautiful. During the 1915-1935 timeframe covered in the book, the U.S. economy enjoys booming commodity and land prices, then a scorching bust and drought.
Throughout it all, Addie offers a true and fair account, often self-critical, without commentary or later reflections. She invites readers to come to their own conclusions after her report has soaked in. She chronicles life; she does not moralize about it. In the end, her tale of human struggle transcends time and place to provide strong echoes with our modern family situations and current economic times.
"…a hauntingly beautiful memoir ... that adds to the growing literature about life on the Great Plains. Like Willa Cather's My Antonia, She evokes the human drama set within an epic-scale landscape."-Denise Low, Poet Laureate of Kansas 2007-2009
Addie of the Flint Hills
A Prairie Child During the Depression
Addie of the Flint Hills is the autobiography of a small-town American girl whose life is played out against the turbulent economic times of the 1920s and 1930s.
Addie wrote this book in reaction to all the news about the economic difficulties America is facing today. She wanted her grandchildren and other members of a younger generation to know that "Today is heaven." Addie, her parents and her grandparents lived through hard times and, almost without realizing it, built something better for themselves and their communities. Her message is one of hope for the future whatever the present circumstances may bring.
Addie's vivid memories transport the reader back into the hardscrabble life that was typical for her generation. And, in the end, Addie of the Flint Hills weaves a complex tale of ordinary folks struggling with universal themes: a family struggles as the economy falters, a father is away at work, a highly educated woman and mother is alone, and a young girl never learns that she is beautiful. During the 1915-1935 timeframe covered in the book, the U.S. economy enjoys booming commodity and land prices, then a scorching bust and drought.
Throughout it all, Addie offers a true and fair account, often self-critical, without commentary or later reflections. She invites readers to come to their own conclusions after her report has soaked in. She chronicles life; she does not moralize about it. In the end, her tale of human struggle transcends time and place to provide strong echoes with our modern family situations and current economic times.
"…a hauntingly beautiful memoir ... that adds to the growing literature about life on the Great Plains. Like Willa Cather's My Antonia, She evokes the human drama set within an epic-scale landscape."-Denise Low, Poet Laureate of Kansas 2007-2009
January 24, 2011
Exercise for the New Year
A writer's life is a solitary one. It's also a very sedentary one. When I was younger, that was not so much of a problem. But as I get older, I'm finding the need for exercise--not only to keep weight gain off, but also to keep my muscles and joints working the way they're supposed to.
Which is why one of my New Year's goals has been to make time for exercise every day. While I enjoy walking outdoors with our two golden retrievers, I don't particularly care for mud or a frozen nose. So I found an alternative through Leslie Sansone's Walk at Home exercise program.
This week marks the start of my fourth week, and I'm enjoying it immensely. I'm starting off slow--one mile a day, but each day concentrates on a different muscle group, and I hope to work my way up to 4-5 miles. What type of exercise do you find effective? What keeps you motivated? 
Which is why one of my New Year's goals has been to make time for exercise every day. While I enjoy walking outdoors with our two golden retrievers, I don't particularly care for mud or a frozen nose. So I found an alternative through Leslie Sansone's Walk at Home exercise program.
This week marks the start of my fourth week, and I'm enjoying it immensely. I'm starting off slow--one mile a day, but each day concentrates on a different muscle group, and I hope to work my way up to 4-5 miles. What type of exercise do you find effective? What keeps you motivated?
January 21, 2011
Blueberry Muffins
Here is a recipe from my childhood. My girls love these muffins. Enjoy!
Blueberry Muffins
1 3/4 cups flour
1/2 cup sugar
2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 egg, beaten
3/4 cup milk
1/3 cup oil
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. In medium bowl, combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. In a glass measuring cup combine the egg, milk and oil. Add to the flour mixture, stirring just till moistened. Fill greased or paper cup-lined muffin pans 2/3 full. Bake for 20-25 minutes until golden brown. Makes 12 muffins.
January 19, 2011
Book Preview ~ Angel Harp
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing Angel Harp FaithWords (January 26, 2011) by Michael Phillips
Michael Phillips has been writing in the Christian marketplace for 30 years. All told, he has written, co-written, and edited some 110 books. Phillips and his wife live in the U.S., and make their second home in Scotland.ABOUT THE BOOK
Widowed at 34, amateur harpist Marie "Angel" Buchan realizes at 40 that her life and dreams are slowly slipping away. A summer in Scotland turns out to offer far more than she ever imagined! Not only does the music of her harp capture the fancy of the small coastal village she visits, she is unexpectedly drawn into a love triangle involving the local curate and the local duke.The boyhood friends have been estranged as adults because of their mutual love of another woman (now dead) some years before. History seems destined to repeat itself, with Marie in the thick of it. Her involvement in the lives of the two men, as well as in the community, leads to a range of exciting relationships and lands Marie in the center of the mystery of a long-unsolved local murder. Eventually she must make her decision: with whom will she cast the lot of her future? If you would like to read the first chapter of Angel Harp, go HERE
January 18, 2011
Book Drawing - Havah
To enter this week's book drawing, please leave a comment below. A winner will be selected on Sunday, January 23.
*Void where prohibited. Open only to US residents. Odds of winning depend on number of entrants.
It is time for a
FIRST Wild Card Tour
book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Today's Wild Card author is:
Tosca Lee
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Tosca Lee is author of the critically acclaimed and extensively-awarded novels Demon: A Memoir and Havah: The Story of Eve. A sought-after speaker and former Mrs. Nebraska, she continues to work for local charities and as a senior consultant for a global consulting firm. Tosca holds a degree in English and International Relations from Smith College and also studied at Oxford University. She enjoys travel, cooking, history, and theology, and lives in Lincoln, Nebraska.
Visit the author's website.
Product Details:
List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 384 pages
Publisher: B&H Books; 2 edition (August 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1433668793
ISBN-13: 978-1433668791
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
A whisper in my ear: Wake!
Blue. A sea awash with nothing but a drifting bit of down, flotsam on an invisible current. I closed my eyes. Light illuminated the thin tissues of my eyelids.
A bird trilled. Near my ear: the percussive buzz of an insect. Overhead, tree boughs stirred in the warming air.
I lay on a soft bed of herbs and grass that tickled my cheek, my shoulders, and the arch of my foot, whispering sibilant secrets up to the trees.
From here I felt the thrum of the sap in the stem—the pulsing veins of the vine, the beat of my heart in harmony with hundreds more around me, the movement of the earth a thousand miles beneath.
I sighed as one returning to sleep, to retreat to the place I had been before, the realm of silence and bliss—wherever that is.
Wake!
I opened my eyes again upon the milling blue, saw it spliced by the flight of a bird, chevron in the sky.
This time, the voice came not to my ear, but directly to my stirring mind: Wake!
There was amusement in it.
I knew nothing of where or what I was, did not understand the polyphony around me or the wide expanse like a blue eternity before me.
But I woke and knew I was alive.
A rustle, a groan practically in my ear. I twitched at a stir-ring against my hip. A moment later, a touch drifted across a belly I did not yet know I owned, soft as a leaf skittering along the ground.
A face obscured my vision. I screamed. Not with fear—I had no acquaintance with fear—nor with startlement because I had been aware of the presence already, but because it was the only statement that came to lips as artless as mine.
The face disappeared and returned, blinking into my own, the blue above captured in twin pools. Then, like a gush of water from a rock, gladness thrilled my heart. But its source was not me.
At last! It came, unspoken—a different source than the voice before—and then the words thrust jubilantly to the sky: "At last!"
He was up on legs like the trunks of sturdy saplings, beating at the earth with his feet. He thumped his chest and shouted to the sun and clapped his hands. "At last!" He cried, his laughter like warm clay between the toes. He shook his shoulders and stomped the grass, slapping his chest as he shouted again and again. Though I did not understand the utterance, I knew its meaning at once: joy and exultation at something longed for suddenly found.
I tried to mimic his sound; it came out as a squawk and then a panting laugh. Overhead, a lark chattered an extravagant address. I squeaked a shrill reply. The face lowered to mine and the man's arms wrapped, wombtight, around me.
"Flesh of my flesh," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. His fingers drifted from my hair to my body, roaming like the goat on the hills of the sacred mount. I sighed, expelling the last remnants of that first air from my lungs—the last of the breath in them not drawn by me alone.
He was high cheeked, this adam, his lower lip dipping down like a folded leaf that drops sweet water to thirsty mouths. His brow was a hawk, soaring above the high cliffs, his eyes blue lusters beneath the fan of his lashes. But it was his mouth that I always came back to, where my eyes liked best to fasten after taking in the shock of those eyes. Shadow ran along his jaw, like obsidian dust clinging to the curve of it, drawing my eye to the plush flesh of his lips, again, again, again.
He touched my face and traced my mouth. I bit his finger. He gathered my hands and studied them, turning them over and back. He smelled my hair and lingered at my neck and gazed curiously at the rest of me. When he was finished, he began all over again, tasting my cheek and the salt of my neck, tracing the instep of my foot with a fingertip.
Finally, he gathered me up, and my vision tilted to involve an altogether new realm: the earth and my brown legs upon it. I clutched at him. I seemed a giant, towering above the earth—a giant as tall as he. My first steps stuttered across the ground as the deer in the hour of its birth, but then I pushed his hands away. My legs, coltish and lean, found their vigor as he urged me, walking far too fast, to keep up. He made for the orchard, and I bolted after him with a surge of strength and another of my squawking sounds. Then we were running—through grasses and over fledgling sloes, the dark wool of my hair flying behind me.
We raced across the valley floor and my new world blurred around me: hyssop and poppy, anemone, narcissus, and lily. Roses grew on the foothills amid the caper and myrtle.
A flash beside me: the long-bodied great cat. I slowed, distracted by her fluidity, the smooth curve of her head as she tilted it to my outstretched hand. I fell to the ground, twining my arms around her, fingers sliding along her coat. Her tongue was rough—unlike the adam's—and she rumbled as she rolled against me.
Far ahead, the adam called. Overhead, a hawk circled for a closer look. The fallow deer at a nearby stream lifted her head.
The adam called again, wordlessly, longing and exuberant. I got up and began to run, the lioness at my heels. I was fast—nearly as fast as she. Exhilaration rose from my lungs in quick pants in laughter. Then, with a burst, she was beyond me.
She was gone by the time the adam caught me up in his arms. His hands stroked my back, my hips, my shoulder. I marveled at his skin. How smooth, how very warm it was.
"You are magnificent," he said, burying his face against my neck. "Ah, Isha—woman, taken from man!"
I said nothing; although I understood his meaning, I did not know his words. I knew with certainty and no notion of conceit, though, that he was right.
At the river he showed me how he cupped his hands to drink and then cupped them again for me. I lowered my head and drank as a carp peered baldy from the shallows up at me.
We entered the water. I gasped as it tickled the backs of my knees and hot hairs under my arms, swirling about my waist as though around a staunch rock as our toes skimmed a multitude of pebbles. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.
"All of this: water." He grunted a little bit as he swam toward the middle of the river where it widened into a broad swath across the valley floor. "Here—the current."
"Water." I understood, in the moment I spoke it, the element in all its forms—from the lake fed by the river to the high springs that flow from the abyss of the mount. I felt the pull of it as though it had a gravity all its own, as though it could sweep me out to the cold depths of the lake and lull me by the tides of the moon.
From the river I could see the high walls of our cradle: the great southern mount rising to heaven and, to the north, the foothills that became the long spine of a range that arched toward the great lake to the west.
I knew even then that this was a place set apart from the unseen lands to the north, the alluvial plain to the south, the great waters to the east and far to the west.
It was set apart solely because we dwelt in it.
But we were not alone. I could see them after a time, even as we left the river and lay upon its banks. I saw them in sidelong glances when I looked at something else: a sunspot caught in the eye, a ripple in the air, a shock of light where there should be only shadow. And so I knew there were other beings, too.
The adam, who studied me, said nothing. We did not know their names.
The first voice I heard urging me to wake had not been the man's. Now I felt the presence of it near me, closer than the air, than even the adam's arms around me.
I returned the man's strange amazement, taken by his smooth, dark skin, the narrowness of his hips, his strange sex. He was warmer than I, as though he had absorbed the heat of the sun, and I laid my cheek against his flat breasts and listened to the changeling beat of his heart. My limbs, so fresh to me, grew heavy. As languor overtook me, I retreated from the sight of my lovely, alien world.
Perhaps in closing my eyes, I would return to the place I had been before.
For the first time since waking, I hoped not.
I slept to the familiar thrum of his heart as insects made sounds like sleepy twitches through the waning day.
When I woke, his cheek was resting against the top of my head. Emotion streamed from his heart, though his lips were silent.
Gratitude.
I am the treasure mined from the rock, the gem prized from the mount.
He stirred only when I did and released me with great reluctance. By then the sun had moved along the length of our valley. My stomach murmured.
He led me to the orchard and fed me the firm flesh of plums, biting carefully around the pits and feeding the pieces to me until juice ran down our chins and bees came to sample it. He kissed my fingers and hands and laid his cheek against my palms.
That evening we lay in a bower of hyssop and rushes—a bower, I realized, that he must have made on a day before this one.
A day before I existed.
We observed together the changing sky as it cooled gold and russet and purple, finally anointing the clay earth red.
Taken from me. Flesh of my flesh. At last. I heard the timbre of his voice in my head in my last waking moment. Marvel and wonder were upon his lips as he kissed my closing eyes.
I knew then he would do anything for me.
That night I dreamed of blackness. Black, greater than the depths of the river or the great abyss beneath the lake.
From within that nothingness came a voice that was not a voice, that was neither sound nor word but volition and command and genesis. And from the voice, a word that was no word but the language of power and fruition.
There! A mote spark—a light first so small as the tip of a pine needle. It exploded past the periphery of my dreaming vision, obliterating the dark. The heavens were vast in an instant, stretching without cease to the edges of eternity.
I careened past new bodies that tugged me in every direction; even the tiniest particles possessed their own gravity. From each of them came the same concert, that symphony of energy and light.
I came to stand upon the earth. It was a great welter of water, the surface of it ablaze with the refracted light of heavens upon heavens. It shook my every fiber, like a string that is plucked and allowed to resonate forever.
I was galvanized, made anew, thrumming that inaugural sound: the yawning of eternity.
Amidst it all came the unmistakable command:
Wake!
*Void where prohibited. Open only to US residents. Odds of winning depend on number of entrants.
It is time for a
FIRST Wild Card Tour
book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Today's Wild Card author is:
Tosca Lee
and the book:
B&H Books; 2 edition (August 1, 2010)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Tosca Lee is author of the critically acclaimed and extensively-awarded novels Demon: A Memoir and Havah: The Story of Eve. A sought-after speaker and former Mrs. Nebraska, she continues to work for local charities and as a senior consultant for a global consulting firm. Tosca holds a degree in English and International Relations from Smith College and also studied at Oxford University. She enjoys travel, cooking, history, and theology, and lives in Lincoln, Nebraska.Visit the author's website.
Product Details:
List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 384 pages
Publisher: B&H Books; 2 edition (August 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1433668793
ISBN-13: 978-1433668791
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
A whisper in my ear: Wake!Blue. A sea awash with nothing but a drifting bit of down, flotsam on an invisible current. I closed my eyes. Light illuminated the thin tissues of my eyelids.
A bird trilled. Near my ear: the percussive buzz of an insect. Overhead, tree boughs stirred in the warming air.
I lay on a soft bed of herbs and grass that tickled my cheek, my shoulders, and the arch of my foot, whispering sibilant secrets up to the trees.
From here I felt the thrum of the sap in the stem—the pulsing veins of the vine, the beat of my heart in harmony with hundreds more around me, the movement of the earth a thousand miles beneath.
I sighed as one returning to sleep, to retreat to the place I had been before, the realm of silence and bliss—wherever that is.
Wake!
I opened my eyes again upon the milling blue, saw it spliced by the flight of a bird, chevron in the sky.
This time, the voice came not to my ear, but directly to my stirring mind: Wake!
There was amusement in it.
I knew nothing of where or what I was, did not understand the polyphony around me or the wide expanse like a blue eternity before me.
But I woke and knew I was alive.
A rustle, a groan practically in my ear. I twitched at a stir-ring against my hip. A moment later, a touch drifted across a belly I did not yet know I owned, soft as a leaf skittering along the ground.
A face obscured my vision. I screamed. Not with fear—I had no acquaintance with fear—nor with startlement because I had been aware of the presence already, but because it was the only statement that came to lips as artless as mine.
The face disappeared and returned, blinking into my own, the blue above captured in twin pools. Then, like a gush of water from a rock, gladness thrilled my heart. But its source was not me.
At last! It came, unspoken—a different source than the voice before—and then the words thrust jubilantly to the sky: "At last!"
He was up on legs like the trunks of sturdy saplings, beating at the earth with his feet. He thumped his chest and shouted to the sun and clapped his hands. "At last!" He cried, his laughter like warm clay between the toes. He shook his shoulders and stomped the grass, slapping his chest as he shouted again and again. Though I did not understand the utterance, I knew its meaning at once: joy and exultation at something longed for suddenly found.
I tried to mimic his sound; it came out as a squawk and then a panting laugh. Overhead, a lark chattered an extravagant address. I squeaked a shrill reply. The face lowered to mine and the man's arms wrapped, wombtight, around me.
"Flesh of my flesh," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. His fingers drifted from my hair to my body, roaming like the goat on the hills of the sacred mount. I sighed, expelling the last remnants of that first air from my lungs—the last of the breath in them not drawn by me alone.
He was high cheeked, this adam, his lower lip dipping down like a folded leaf that drops sweet water to thirsty mouths. His brow was a hawk, soaring above the high cliffs, his eyes blue lusters beneath the fan of his lashes. But it was his mouth that I always came back to, where my eyes liked best to fasten after taking in the shock of those eyes. Shadow ran along his jaw, like obsidian dust clinging to the curve of it, drawing my eye to the plush flesh of his lips, again, again, again.
He touched my face and traced my mouth. I bit his finger. He gathered my hands and studied them, turning them over and back. He smelled my hair and lingered at my neck and gazed curiously at the rest of me. When he was finished, he began all over again, tasting my cheek and the salt of my neck, tracing the instep of my foot with a fingertip.
Finally, he gathered me up, and my vision tilted to involve an altogether new realm: the earth and my brown legs upon it. I clutched at him. I seemed a giant, towering above the earth—a giant as tall as he. My first steps stuttered across the ground as the deer in the hour of its birth, but then I pushed his hands away. My legs, coltish and lean, found their vigor as he urged me, walking far too fast, to keep up. He made for the orchard, and I bolted after him with a surge of strength and another of my squawking sounds. Then we were running—through grasses and over fledgling sloes, the dark wool of my hair flying behind me.
We raced across the valley floor and my new world blurred around me: hyssop and poppy, anemone, narcissus, and lily. Roses grew on the foothills amid the caper and myrtle.
A flash beside me: the long-bodied great cat. I slowed, distracted by her fluidity, the smooth curve of her head as she tilted it to my outstretched hand. I fell to the ground, twining my arms around her, fingers sliding along her coat. Her tongue was rough—unlike the adam's—and she rumbled as she rolled against me.
Far ahead, the adam called. Overhead, a hawk circled for a closer look. The fallow deer at a nearby stream lifted her head.
The adam called again, wordlessly, longing and exuberant. I got up and began to run, the lioness at my heels. I was fast—nearly as fast as she. Exhilaration rose from my lungs in quick pants in laughter. Then, with a burst, she was beyond me.
She was gone by the time the adam caught me up in his arms. His hands stroked my back, my hips, my shoulder. I marveled at his skin. How smooth, how very warm it was.
"You are magnificent," he said, burying his face against my neck. "Ah, Isha—woman, taken from man!"
I said nothing; although I understood his meaning, I did not know his words. I knew with certainty and no notion of conceit, though, that he was right.
At the river he showed me how he cupped his hands to drink and then cupped them again for me. I lowered my head and drank as a carp peered baldy from the shallows up at me.
We entered the water. I gasped as it tickled the backs of my knees and hot hairs under my arms, swirling about my waist as though around a staunch rock as our toes skimmed a multitude of pebbles. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.
"All of this: water." He grunted a little bit as he swam toward the middle of the river where it widened into a broad swath across the valley floor. "Here—the current."
"Water." I understood, in the moment I spoke it, the element in all its forms—from the lake fed by the river to the high springs that flow from the abyss of the mount. I felt the pull of it as though it had a gravity all its own, as though it could sweep me out to the cold depths of the lake and lull me by the tides of the moon.
From the river I could see the high walls of our cradle: the great southern mount rising to heaven and, to the north, the foothills that became the long spine of a range that arched toward the great lake to the west.
I knew even then that this was a place set apart from the unseen lands to the north, the alluvial plain to the south, the great waters to the east and far to the west.
It was set apart solely because we dwelt in it.
But we were not alone. I could see them after a time, even as we left the river and lay upon its banks. I saw them in sidelong glances when I looked at something else: a sunspot caught in the eye, a ripple in the air, a shock of light where there should be only shadow. And so I knew there were other beings, too.
The adam, who studied me, said nothing. We did not know their names.
The first voice I heard urging me to wake had not been the man's. Now I felt the presence of it near me, closer than the air, than even the adam's arms around me.
I returned the man's strange amazement, taken by his smooth, dark skin, the narrowness of his hips, his strange sex. He was warmer than I, as though he had absorbed the heat of the sun, and I laid my cheek against his flat breasts and listened to the changeling beat of his heart. My limbs, so fresh to me, grew heavy. As languor overtook me, I retreated from the sight of my lovely, alien world.
Perhaps in closing my eyes, I would return to the place I had been before.
For the first time since waking, I hoped not.
I slept to the familiar thrum of his heart as insects made sounds like sleepy twitches through the waning day.
When I woke, his cheek was resting against the top of my head. Emotion streamed from his heart, though his lips were silent.
Gratitude.
I am the treasure mined from the rock, the gem prized from the mount.
He stirred only when I did and released me with great reluctance. By then the sun had moved along the length of our valley. My stomach murmured.
He led me to the orchard and fed me the firm flesh of plums, biting carefully around the pits and feeding the pieces to me until juice ran down our chins and bees came to sample it. He kissed my fingers and hands and laid his cheek against my palms.
That evening we lay in a bower of hyssop and rushes—a bower, I realized, that he must have made on a day before this one.
A day before I existed.
We observed together the changing sky as it cooled gold and russet and purple, finally anointing the clay earth red.
Taken from me. Flesh of my flesh. At last. I heard the timbre of his voice in my head in my last waking moment. Marvel and wonder were upon his lips as he kissed my closing eyes.
I knew then he would do anything for me.
That night I dreamed of blackness. Black, greater than the depths of the river or the great abyss beneath the lake.
From within that nothingness came a voice that was not a voice, that was neither sound nor word but volition and command and genesis. And from the voice, a word that was no word but the language of power and fruition.
There! A mote spark—a light first so small as the tip of a pine needle. It exploded past the periphery of my dreaming vision, obliterating the dark. The heavens were vast in an instant, stretching without cease to the edges of eternity.
I careened past new bodies that tugged me in every direction; even the tiniest particles possessed their own gravity. From each of them came the same concert, that symphony of energy and light.
I came to stand upon the earth. It was a great welter of water, the surface of it ablaze with the refracted light of heavens upon heavens. It shook my every fiber, like a string that is plucked and allowed to resonate forever.
I was galvanized, made anew, thrumming that inaugural sound: the yawning of eternity.
Amidst it all came the unmistakable command:
Wake!
January 17, 2011
Miss Rodeo America 2011
Many of you may recall that Natalie Adams, the character for my second book, Seeds of Summer, was a rodeo queen. Because of that and all the research I did on the Miss Rodeo America pageant, I like to keep up with the current MRA activities. Here's this year's queen announcement.
MCKENZIE HALEY CROWNED MISS RODEO AMERICA 2011
LAS VEGAS, Nevada. (Dec 4, 2010) — The results are in and the next Miss Rodeo America has been crowned. The 2011 leading lady of professional rodeo is McKenzie Haley, of Colome, South Dakota.
Haley served as Miss Rodeo South Dakota 2010, and during the next year, she will travel more than 100,000 miles representing Miss Rodeo America, Inc. and the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association. Haley was introduced as the 2011 Miss Rodeo America at the 4th performance of the Wrangler National Finals Rodeo on Sunday, Dec. 5, 2010. She will begin making appearances at rodeos across the country in January.
Aside from her rodeo interests, Haley is pursuing a degree in Elementary Education. Her further educational goals are to obtain a Master's degree in School Psychology. Haley will be able to put to good use the $20,000 educational scholarship she will receive at the completion of her reign.
Haley was also awarded a wardrobe of Wrangler jeans and shirts, Justin boots, Bailey hats, fully tooled Court's Saddle with custom Miss Rodeo America conchos and an official Miss Rodeo America trophy buckle from Montana Silversmiths. Accompanying the perpetual Miss Rodeo America tiara made by Landstrom's original Black Hills Gold Creations she was given a wardrobe of matching jewelry. These items, along with a multitude of other valuable and exquisite prizes will be presented to her throughout the year.
Contestants were judged in the major categories of horsemanship, personality, and appearance, competing in the areas of public speaking, personal interviews, modeling, photogenic and rodeo/equine knowledge.
Contestants were eligible for $50,000 in scholarships at the 2011 Miss Rodeo America Pageant. In addition to the $20,000 Miss Rodeo America scholarship, Haley was also awarded the Appearance category, including $1,500 scholarship and a pair of hand crafted spurs; the Personality category, including $1,500 scholarship; Photogenic category, including $1,000 scholarship and a custom etched glass photo frame; Speech category, including $1,000 scholarship; 2nd place in the scrapbook award, including $500 cash award.
McKenzie is looking forward to seeing all aspects of rodeo while traveling across the country as Miss Rodeo America 2011. "This has been a dream of mine since I was a little girl. Miss Rodeo America has the opportunity to touch the lives of current and future rodeo fans, to be a source of information about rodeo and the western lifestyle, and to be a role-model for young people across the country".
Miss Rodeo America, Inc. – an organization developed in 1955 striving to provide a quality Miss Rodeo America competition, enrich the lives of contestants and each year select a qualified young lady as Miss Rodeo America to serve as a goodwill ambassador promoting the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association and Western traditions. Learn more at http://www.missrodeoamerica.com./
MCKENZIE HALEY CROWNED MISS RODEO AMERICA 2011
LAS VEGAS, Nevada. (Dec 4, 2010) — The results are in and the next Miss Rodeo America has been crowned. The 2011 leading lady of professional rodeo is McKenzie Haley, of Colome, South Dakota.
Haley served as Miss Rodeo South Dakota 2010, and during the next year, she will travel more than 100,000 miles representing Miss Rodeo America, Inc. and the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association. Haley was introduced as the 2011 Miss Rodeo America at the 4th performance of the Wrangler National Finals Rodeo on Sunday, Dec. 5, 2010. She will begin making appearances at rodeos across the country in January.
Aside from her rodeo interests, Haley is pursuing a degree in Elementary Education. Her further educational goals are to obtain a Master's degree in School Psychology. Haley will be able to put to good use the $20,000 educational scholarship she will receive at the completion of her reign.
Haley was also awarded a wardrobe of Wrangler jeans and shirts, Justin boots, Bailey hats, fully tooled Court's Saddle with custom Miss Rodeo America conchos and an official Miss Rodeo America trophy buckle from Montana Silversmiths. Accompanying the perpetual Miss Rodeo America tiara made by Landstrom's original Black Hills Gold Creations she was given a wardrobe of matching jewelry. These items, along with a multitude of other valuable and exquisite prizes will be presented to her throughout the year.
Contestants were judged in the major categories of horsemanship, personality, and appearance, competing in the areas of public speaking, personal interviews, modeling, photogenic and rodeo/equine knowledge.Contestants were eligible for $50,000 in scholarships at the 2011 Miss Rodeo America Pageant. In addition to the $20,000 Miss Rodeo America scholarship, Haley was also awarded the Appearance category, including $1,500 scholarship and a pair of hand crafted spurs; the Personality category, including $1,500 scholarship; Photogenic category, including $1,000 scholarship and a custom etched glass photo frame; Speech category, including $1,000 scholarship; 2nd place in the scrapbook award, including $500 cash award.
McKenzie is looking forward to seeing all aspects of rodeo while traveling across the country as Miss Rodeo America 2011. "This has been a dream of mine since I was a little girl. Miss Rodeo America has the opportunity to touch the lives of current and future rodeo fans, to be a source of information about rodeo and the western lifestyle, and to be a role-model for young people across the country".
Miss Rodeo America, Inc. – an organization developed in 1955 striving to provide a quality Miss Rodeo America competition, enrich the lives of contestants and each year select a qualified young lady as Miss Rodeo America to serve as a goodwill ambassador promoting the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association and Western traditions. Learn more at http://www.missrodeoamerica.com./
