Camy Tang's Blog, page 143

Giving Kindle Books

Captain's Log, Stardate 11.09.2011



I'm over at the ChristiansRead blog with a question about Kindle/ebooks and used books and lending books!



http://christiansread.wordpress.com/2011/11/08/giving-kindle-books/



Join in the discussion!

Excerpt - Lakeside Reunion by Lisa Jordan

Lakeside Reunion

by

Lisa Jordan



Bed-and-breakfast owner Lindsey Porter prays she won't run into Stephen Chase when she returns to Shelby Lake. Five years ago, the cop jilted her to marry another woman, and Lindsey fled town. But no sooner does she hit city limits than Stephen pulls her over for a broken taillight. Despite the past, he's still able to stir up Lindsey's old feelings for him. Now a widower and single dad, Stephen recognizes a second chance when he sees one. And he'll do anything to make Lindsey trust in God and take a risk for love—again.



Excerpt of chapter one:



Any moment now, Lindsey could put the car in Drive, touch the gas pedal, drive past the green-etched Welcome to Shelby Lake sign and return to her past. Another hundred feet and she would be back.



Visitors traveled to the northwestern Pennsylvania lake-front community to get away. She escaped to put her life back together.



Center Street unfurled like black satin ribbon under a canopy of evergreens and multicolored maples and oaks that would take her right down memory lane. Past the elementary school where Mom taught kindergarten. Past Aunt Claire's sewing shop. Past Mrs. Lawson's pink-sided house with the plastic yard goose she dressed each holiday. Past the church where Lindsey almost said "I do."



Mom, why did you have to fall down the stairs?



Lindsey gripped the steering wheel, pressing her forehead against the powder-blue fuzzy cover. Maybe banging her head against it would knock some sense into her brain. She'd made promises that never, ever, not in a thousand years would she return to Shelby Lake.



But promises didn't account for widowed mothers who might slip on a dirty sock on the stairs to the laundry room.



Next to her, on the seat of her friend's borrowed Taurus, her cell phone chimed. She read the display. Perfect—Granddad checking in. He probably expected her to hedge at the city limits, weighing the pros and cons.



Like for the past half hour.



She answered the call. "I'm on my way, really."



"No doubt in my mind, sweetness. Your mama's been taken to X-ray. She's asking for that quilt—you know, the one with all those circles—off the recliner near the davenport. Could you pick it up on your way?" Granddad's voice betrayed an edge of stress—playing family watchdog for the past five years whittled any visible panic from his voice. "Can you hurry?"



"Yes…sure. I'll be there in about twenty minutes or so." She ended the conversation and clenched the phone.



Quilt with circles, Granddad had said. The wedding ring quilt on the recliner near the couch. Dad's recliner. Closing her eyes, she could picture him sitting there—feet crossed at the ankles, hands tucked behind his head. An ache pinched her chest. But she would do it. For Mom.



She imagined her mother, fragile, her eyes wide with pain, maybe even fear as she lay puddled at the bottom of the stairs, or trying to drag her broken body toward a phone. If Lindsey hadn't swept the Shelby Lake dust off her feet, she might have been there. Might have heard her cry out. Or rather, might have been the one carrying the laundry downstairs.



She glanced at the sign again and released a loud sigh. Okay, so the town had fewer than five thousand people. Entering city limits didn't guarantee she'd see him. Or his son. Or run smack into the humiliation of being left at the altar.



It felt that way. Come on, who calls off a wedding a week before the big day?



Still. No one really lived down being jilted for another woman. Especially when they married within a month of her broken engagement. She couldn't stand the looks of pity that would follow her like a stray pup.



Can you hurry?



She'd grab the quilt, pop into the hospital to check on Mom, make sure someone from the church signed up to serve meals and then head back to her small country inn in Maple Valley.



Where she belonged.



In, out, fast, simple, and with any luck she wouldn't bump into the man who had left her heart in pieces, scattered across Shelby Lake.



Clouds resembling curdled milk smudged the morning horizon. Raindrops pinged her windshield in a lazy-Sunday-afternoon manner. A sliver of sunlight sliced through the tree limbs, over the rooftops of the houses lined up like first graders, beckoning her, calling her to come closer.



If she didn't do it now, she'd end up putting her car in Reverse and making the two-hour return trip to Maple Valley without looking back. But she couldn't disappoint Mom. Not this time.



She shifted into Drive and checked for traffic. None, of course. She had just coasted over the county line into Shelby Lake when she heard the blip of a siren.



What—?



A cruiser pulled up behind her.



Seriously? She was barely moving, let alone speeding.



Putting the car into Park, Lindsey dragged her fingers through her hair and rested her elbow against the door.



Maybe the officer would be one of the older guys. One of Dad's buddies.



Please, God.



She used to have the entire force on her Christmas card list, but, life had taken a detour the morning her father had been shot during a routine traffic stop and died a couple of hours later. And a girl had a right to close the door on a chapter of her life and start over, right?



The door to the cruiser opened. Lindsey squinted in the rearview mirror to see if she recognized the officer. With his head turned, she saw only dark hair cut above his collar. He paused to talk into his radio.



She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. "Come on. Come on."



He approached the car. She leaned over to scrounge through napkins and ketchup packets in the glove compartment for the vehicle registration and insurance card. Of course her car—a silver convertible that she would have preferred driving for this foray into her past—sat in the shop, getting the brakes replaced.



A girl should have at least a month's notice before she returned to her former life—lose those extra five pounds, get her hair cut, a decent manicure and definitely get her hard-earned sporty wheels detailed.



Still, Rita's ancient beater had saved her hide. And again, it wasn't as if she'd run into anyone she knew.



A rap on the driver's window sent her heart skidding. Lindsey cranked the window open with one hand while trying to free her driver's license out of its plastic holder with the other. A rain-scented breeze frisked her cheek.



"What's the matter, Officer?" Eyes glued on her wallet, she tried, oh, how she tried, to keep the annoyance from her voice. "I was barely moving."



"Ma'am, did you know your left taillight is out?"



Oh. She'd turned her lights on during the rainstorm. Busted. "The car's not mine. Belongs to a friend."



"I need to see your driver's license, vehicle registration and proof of insurance, please."



For the first time, she heard, really heard, the voice. Deep, with threads of humor around the edges, and the finest sense of control. A man of patience, of honor.



She closed her eyes. Really, God?



He was so not on her side.



"Ma'am?"



"Yes, just a minute." Stephen. Or maybe Officer Stephen Chase. She ground her teeth, focusing on the fake pine-tree air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror.



"Stephen." His name slid out as a strangled whisper. Then, because she had to, she hazarded a look. And yes, God certainly knew how to spear her in the heart, because if possible, Stephen had only become more handsome.



Apparently that's what marriage and fatherhood did to a man.



Clearly five years wasn't enough to get over those blueberry-colored eyes, that dark, wavy, run-her-hands-through-it hair, the devastating cleft in his chin. His smile belonged in an ad for men's cologne. And still managed to send her heart into a tailspin.



Now, he just roamed about in her dreams, in the hours between waking and sleeping when she had no defenses.



Lindsey squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again. Just to make sure. Nope, he hadn't been a figment of her imagination.



Stephen's eyes had widened even as his mouth dropped open. Good. She shouldn't be the only one squirming here.



Unfortunately, he recovered more quickly. "Lindsey Porter. It's been what? At least five years?"



"Something like that." Five years, two months and three days, if someone bothered to count.



"This is not your vehicle." He stood with hands on his lean hips and feet shoulder-width apart.



"I believe I mentioned that." She refrained from adding



"Captain Obvious." No need for sarcasm. He was only doing his job.



Because, you know, apprehending hardened taillight-defying criminals would certainly solve the world's problems. Or find her father's killer.



"Mine's in the shop. Borrowed this from my assistant manager."



He nodded and then crossed his arms over his chest. The stretched navy fabric of his uniform emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. She averted her eyes.



ABBA came on the radio, belting out "Take a Chance on Me."



Lindsey flicked off the radio. So not going to happen.



"I should probably give your friend a ticket. It's dangerous to drive around without taillights—especially in weather like this. You just missed a downpour that came through here. What if the cars behind you couldn't see you slowing down or turning?"



"What cars? And no, I didn't miss it—drove through it, thank you. Without an accident, even. Imagine that."



He stared at her, and she seemed to see the words linger outside of her body, as if she wasn't sure where they came from. In the wake of her sarcasm she wanted to slink into her seat, maybe climb under it.



His cheery demeanor vanished. "I'm serious."



She blew out a breath, staring at her whitened knuckles clenching the steering wheel. Schooled her voice. "Sorry. Look, I know. I'll be sure to let Rita know, okay? Write me a ticket or whatever, but please hurry. I have to go. It's an emergency."



Suddenly she needed her mother.



"If you were in such a hurry, why did you idle near the sign for the last thirty minutes?"



"You were watching me?" She fought to keep the squeak out of her voice. She didn't expect any spectators while she psyched herself up to cross the county line. Should have known better.



"Someone called in suspicious activity. I had to check it out." He frowned, but the hard set of his jaw relaxed. "What kind of emergency?"



Blinking back sudden, crazy tears, Lindsey forced herself to hold Stephen's gaze. "Mom. She fell down the stairs and broke her leg."



Stephen relaxed his stance, rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and softened his tone. "Linds, I'm sorry. That's tough. How can I help?"



How could he help? How about making sure she didn't run into him the first twenty-four hours she was in town? How about picking up the pieces of her broken heart, pasting them back together? How about telling her that he'd been wrong for choosing Bethany over her?



No, she didn't want that. Not anymore, at least.



"Let me go so I can get to the hospital." And out of Shelby Lake as fast as possible.



He stepped back, nodding. She waited a moment for a "nice to see you" or even "want to get a cup of coffee?" But it didn't come.



It would never come.



Because some things simply couldn't be fixed.







Stephen jammed himself behind the wheel of the cruiser. Thunking his head against the headrest, he groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face.



The life he put back together piece by piece during the past five years scattered like Ty's bucket of Legos with a single glimpse of her.



Seeing Lindsey stole his breath. He expected a middleaged woman driving the late '80s blue Ford Taurus. Not his former fiancée.



Wow. She looked amazing. Time had only done her favors. Her hair still looked like the sunrise over the lake, and how he longed to touch it. Weave it through his fingers. It was shorter, although he liked it above her shoulders. Made her look less like a teenager, more like a woman. A woman who hated him. He needed to keep that fact in the center of his thoughts.



The police band chattered in the background, reminding him to radio dispatch and let them know he was back in service. But he tuned it out for a minute. He needed to regroup—force his hands to stop shaking and bring his thudding heart under control. A cold sweat slicked his face. He lowered the window. The crisp breeze fanned his clammy skin.



His cell phone vibrated against his hip. He released it from the belt holster and glanced at the display. His sister.



He flipped it open. "Hey, Mel. What's up?"



"Stephen, why are you answering your phone? You're on duty."



"Uh, you called me?"



"An eye for detail, as always."



"Mel…"



"Okay, okay. Listen, I didn't expect to talk to you. I mean, I called, but I figured I'd get your voice mail. Nate and I are grilling tonight. With friends. Why don't you and Ty join us?"



"Which friends? It's supposed to rain tonight."



"The patio is covered. Bring a sweatshirt. Oliver and Amy are coming. And, well, Ginger, a new girl in our morning Bible study who could use someone to show her around."



"Isn't there a church rule that says pastors' wives are forbidden to torture their brothers with their not-so-subtle matchmaking schemes?"



"Hey, I'm not doing anything of the sort."



"Leave the matchmaking to the Tea Grannies, Mel." He referred to the group of five ladies in his church who felt it was their God-gifted mission to make sure the singles in the church were paired up—whether they wanted to be or not.



"I just thought…well, it's been almost a year."



"Forget it. Not. Interested." Knowing she was only trying to help, he softened his tone so he didn't sound so much like a jerk. "Thanks, anyway. I need to get back to work."



"Well, stop by and grab something to eat."



"Maybe." He hesitated, not sure if he should say anything yet, but she'd find out soon enough. "Hey, Mel. Uh, Lindsey's back in town."



"What? When? How do you know?"



"Someone called in a lurker down by the welcome sign. Had to check it out. Turned out to be Lindsey. Apparently Grace Porter fell and broke her leg."



"You've seen her. Oh, Stephen…I'm so…How are you doing? I mean, seeing her must have been…wow, like a total shock or something."



"That would be the understatement of three lifetimes. Listen, I really have to go. Call Ma, will you? I'm sure she'll want to know about Grace."



"Yeah, sure. As soon as Nate's done with his sermon prep, we'll head to the hospital to check on Grace. Maybe I can catch Lindsey. Call me later if, you know, you want to talk or anything."



Stephen snapped the phone shut and dropped it on the seat beside him.



Life couldn't be easy, could it?

Print book:

Harlequin.com (Save an extra 10% with code SAVE10AFFO at checkout!)

Barnes and Noble

Amazon

Christianbook.com

BOOKSAMILLION.COM



Ebook:

Harlequin.com (Save an extra 10% with code SAVE10AFFO at checkout!)

Nookbook

Kindle











Lisa is holding a scavenger hunt and lakeside photo contest to promote her Lakeside Reunion release. Plus, blog commenters on the blog hop will be put in a drawing for fun prizes—breakfast basket, Love Inspired Authors basket, autographed copies of  Lakeside Reunion . Visit her Lakeside Reunion Contest page for more information.The token for this blog is a cup of tea. 

Protection for Hire available as an ebook galley on NetGalley!

Captain's Log, Stardate 11.02.2011



For those of you who don't mind reading ebooks, an ebook galley copy of my December release, Protection for Hire, is up on NetGalley!



NetGalley is free to join, and once you do you can request to read Protection for Hire. You can read it on your computer, Nook, Kindle, and I think Kobo readers, too.



I hope you enjoy Protection for Hire! Please post a review on Amazon.com, BarnesandNoble.com, Christianbook.com, and Goodreads.com!

Protection for Hire Contest!

Captain's Log, Stardate 11.01.2011



I have a new contest to celebrate the release of my latest book, Protection for Hire, which releases (officially) on December 1st, 2011!



Contest dates: From October 20th, 2011 to 11:59 pm PST December 31st, 2011



This is a contest for my Street Team members ONLY. However, you can join my Street Team at any time during the contest! Email me to join my Street Team: camy [at} camytang [dot} com.



This is a point-based contest, where you earn points. No limit to the number of points you can get.



There are several ways you can get points:



A) Get people to sign up for my email newsletter (worth one point per person).



B) Get your friends to join my Street Team (worth 10 points per person).



C) Talk to your local Christian bookstore manager and ask him/her to email me (worth 10 points per store).



D) Talk to your local librarian and ask him/her to email me (worth 10 points per library).



E) Buy (or preorder) copies of Protection for Hire (worth 10 points per copy).



F) Read and post a review of Protection for Hire on Amazon.com, BarnesandNoble.com, Christianbook.com, Shelfari.com or Goodreads.com (worth 10 points per review site, up to 50 points total).



G) Get your local book club members to read Protection for Hire (worth 50 points plus 10 points for each book ordered).



Get your book club to order their copies of Protection for Hire from me, and I will be happy to autograph the books individually to each person. I will also charge only $8 per book, with free shipping. I will also be happy to arrange a 30 minute Skype or telephone call with your book club.



Prizes



Prizes include:



A Kindle Touch or Nook Touch (winner's choice)



An ebook copy of The Twelve Dates of Christmas, a humorous contemporary romance novella I wrote which has never been published before! (This book is exclusive for my Street Team--this book will not be sold anywhere) (Sorry, no print copies)



Swag--T-shirts, mugs, hoodies, blankets, tote bags, etc.



Christian fiction



Knitted yummies by moi--scarves, shawls, socks, hats, sweaters, and also some hand-knitted yarn for my knitter/crocheter readers



Writing mentoring time



Prizes are on a tier system. More information on my Protection for Hire contest file, which Street Team members can download in the Files section of the Street Team YahooGroup.



Rules:



More information on my Protection for Hire contest file, which Street Team members can download in the Files section of the Street Team YahooGroup.



International readers are welcome to join my Street Team and enter the contest. (However, I will send all your prizes to you after the contest to save me money on postage.)



Please, no cheating. Cheaters will be disqualified from the contest and removed from the Street Team. For example, if several people send the same receipt for the same book(s) purchased in order to get points, everyone involved will be removed from the Street Team as a result.



If you have any questions, just email me! It could be that I need to clarify something in the contest rules, so don't be afraid to ask.



Have fun with this! And thanks so much for being part of my Street Team and helping to spread the word about my books!

Street Team Book List excerpt - Maggie's Journey by Lena Nelson Dooley

Camy here: Here's another book I added to my Street Team book giveaway list! You can win this book by joining my Street Team--Click here for more info!



[image error] Maggie's Journey

by

Lena Nelson Dooley



Near her eighteenth birthday, Margaret Lenora Caine finds a chest hidden in the attic containing proof that she's adopted. The spoiled daughter of wealthy merchants in Seattle, she feels betrayed by her real parents and by the ones who raised her. But mystery surrounds her new discovery, and when Maggie uncovers another family secret, she loses all sense of identity. Leaving her home in Seattle, Washington, Maggie strikes out to find her destiny. Will Charles Stanton, who's been in love with her for years, be able to help her discover who she really is?



Excerpt of chapter one:



Margaret Lenora Caine sat in the library of their mansion on Beacon Hill. Because of the view of Puget Sound, which she loved, she had the brocade draperies pulled back to let the early September sunshine bathe the room with warmth. Basking in the bright light, Maggie concentrated on the sketch pad balanced on her lap. After leaning back to get the full effect of the drawing, she reached a finger to smudge the shadows between the folds of the skirt. With a neckline that revealed the shoulders, but still maintained complete modesty, this dress was her best design so far, one she planned to have Mrs. Murdock create in that dreamy, shimmery green material that came in the last shipment from China. Maggie knew silk was usually a summer fabric, but with it woven into a heavier brocade satin, it would be just right for her eighteenth birthday party. And with a few changes to the design, she could have another dress created as well.



Once again she leaned forward and drew a furbelow around the hem, shading it carefully to show depth. The added weight of the extra fabric would help the skirt maintain its shape, providing a pleasing silhouette at any ball. She pictured herself wearing the beautiful green dress, whirling in the arms of her partner, whoever he was. Maybe someone like Charles Stanton, since she'd admired him for several years, and he was so handsome.



"Margaret, what are you doing?"



The harsh question broke Maggie's concentration. The charcoal in her hand slipped, slashing an ugly smear across the sketch. She glanced at her mother standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her bosom. Maggie heaved a sigh loud enough to reach the entrance, and her mother's eyebrows arched so quickly Maggie wanted to laugh . . . almost, but she didn't dare add to whatever was bothering Mother now. Her stomach began to churn, a thoroughly uncomfortable sensation. Lately, everything she did put Mother in a bad mood. She searched her mind for whatever could have set her off this time. She came up with nothing, so she pasted a smile across her face.



"I'm sketching." She tried for a firm tone but wasn't sure it came across that way.



"You don't have time for that right now." Florence Caine hurried across the Persian wool carpet and stared down at her. "We have too much to do before your party."



Of course her mother was right, but Maggie thought she could take a few minutes to get the new design on paper while it was fresh in her mind. She glanced toward the mantel clock. Oh, no. Her few minutes had turned into over two hours. She'd lost herself in drawing designs again. No wonder Mother was exasperated.



She jumped up from the burgundy wing-back chair. "I didn't realize it was so late. I'm sorry, Mother."



Florence Caine took the sketch pad from her hand and studied the drawing with a critical eye. "That's a different design."



Maggie couldn't tell if she liked the dress or not, but it didn't matter. Designing was in Maggie's blood. Her grandmother was a dressmaker who came up with her own designs instead of using those in Godey's Lady's Book or Harper's Bazar. And, according to Mother's sister, she never even looked at a Butterick pattern. Aunt Georgia had told her often enough about all the society women who wouldn't let anyone but Agatha Carter make their clothing. They knew they wouldn't be meeting anyone else wearing the exact same thing when they attended social events in Little Rock, Arkansas. Not for the first time, Maggie wished she could talk to her grandmother at least once.



With the news about people being able to converse across long distances with something called the telephone, someday she might talk to her that way. But Maggie wanted a face-to-face meeting. Knowing another dress designer would keep her from feeling like such a misfit. Mother kept reminding her that she didn't really fit the mold of a young woman of their social standing in Seattle. At least, Daddy let her do what she wanted to. She didn't know what she'd do without him to offset Mother's insistence, which was becoming more and more harsh.



According to Aunt Georgia, the business Grandmother Carter started was still going strong, even though her grandmother had to be over sixty years old. Maggie planned to go visit her relatives in Arkansas, so she could tour the company. She hoped her journey would happen before she was too late to actually meet Agatha Carter. Her deepest desire was to follow in her grandmother's footsteps, since she had inherited her talents.



The sound of ripping tore through her thoughts. Aghast, she turned to catch her mother decimating her sketch. She lunged toward the paper, trying to save it, but Mother held the sketch just out of her reach.



"What are you doing?" Tears clogged her throat, but she struggled to hide them.



Dribbling the tiny pieces into the ornate wastepaper basket beside the mahogany desk, her mother looked up at her. "Just throwing it away. You had already ruined it anyway."



Anger sliced through Maggie's heart, leaving a jagged trail of pain. She still wanted to keep the sketch. She could use it while she created another. Her plan was to ask her father to help her surprise Mother. The design would set off her mother's tall stature and still youthful figure. She planned to ask him for a length of the special blue satin brocade that would bring out the color of Mother's eyes. The dress would make Mother the envy of most of her friends when the winter social season started in a couple of months. Now she'd have to begin the drawing all over again. So many hours of work and her dreams torn to shreds.



"Darling." That syrupy tone Mother used when she was trying to make a point grated on Maggie's nerves. "When are you going to grow up and forget about your little pictures of dresses?"



Little pictures of dresses? The words almost shredded the rest of Maggie's control. She gripped her hands into fists and twisted them inside the folds of her full skirt.



They'd had this discussion too many times already. She gritted her teeth, but it didn't help. In a few days she would be eighteen, old enough to make decisions for herself—whether her mother agreed or not.



She stood as tall as her tiny frame would allow her. "Those aren't just 'little drawings,' Mother. I am going to be a dress designer."



The icy disdain shooting from her mother's eyes made Maggie cringe inside, but she stood her ground.



"Margaret Lenora Caine, I am tired of these conversations. You will not become a working girl." Mother huffed out a very unladylike deep breath. "You don't need to. Your father has worked hard to provide a very good living for the three of us. I will not listen to any more of this nonsense."



Maggie had heard that phrase often enough, and she never liked it. Mother swept from the room as if she had the answer to everything, but she didn't. Not for Maggie. And her sketches were not nonsense.



She tried to remember the last time she pleased her mother. Had she ever really?



Her hair was too curly and hard to tame into a proper style. And the hue was too red. Maggie wouldn't stay out of the sun to prevent freckles from dotting her face. She could come up with a long list of her mother's complaints if she wanted to take the time. She wasn't that interested in what was going on among the elite in Seattle. She had more things to think about than how to catch a husband.



Maggie wanted to get married someday. But first she would follow her dream. Become the woman she was created to be. That meant being a dress designer, taking delight in making other women look their best. If it wasn't for Grandmother Carter, Maggie would think she had been born into the wrong family.



The enticing aroma of gingerbread called her toward the kitchen. Spending time with Mrs. Jorgensen was just what she needed right now. Since she didn't have any grandparents living close by, their cook and housekeeper substituted quite well in Maggie's mind.



She pushed open the door, wrinkling her nose and sniffing like the bunny in the back garden while she headed across the brick floor toward the cabinet where her older friend worked. "What is that heavenly smell?"



Mrs. Jorgensen turned with a warm smile. "As if you didn't already know. You've eaten enough of my gingerbread, for sure."



Pushing white tendrils from her forehead, the woman quickly sliced the spicy concoction and placed a large piece on a saucer while Maggie retrieved the butter from the ice box. Maggie slathered a thick coating on and watched it melt into the hot, brown bread.



"Here's something to drink." Mrs. Jorgensen set a glass of cold milk on the work table in the middle of the large room.



Maggie hopped up on a tall stool and took a sip, swinging her legs as she had when she was a little girl. Mother would have something else to complain about if she saw her. That's not ladylike and is most unbecoming. The oft-spoken words rang through Maggie's mind. But Mother hardly ever came into the kitchen. Mrs. Jorgensen met with Mother in her sitting room to plan the meals and the day's work schedule. "This is the only place in the house where I can just be myself." Maggie took a bite and let the spices dance along her tongue, savoring the sting of spices mixed with the sweetness of molasses. "Ja." The grandmotherly woman patted Maggie's shoulder. "So tell me what's bothering you, kära."

Print book:

Barnes and Noble

Amazon

Christianbook.com

BOOKSAMILLION.COM



Ebook:

Nookbook

Kindle

Christianbook.com

[image error]

City Bakery Hot Chocolate take one

Captain's Log, Stardate 10.31.2011



While doing research on a new book proposal, I was reading a book set at Christmas and was inspired to make hot chocolate. But not just any hot chocolate--I wanted to try to reproduce the orgasmic (yes I just said orgasmic) hot chocolate that I had with my friends Allie Pleiter and Danica Favorite at City Bakery in New York City. Allie blogged about it at the bottom of this post. It was seriously that good.



So I found several recipes and cobbled together this one:



Pour 2 cups milk into a saucepan, whisk in 1 teaspoon cornstarch. Heat on medium heat until steaming, then add 12-13 ounces bar chocolate (not baking chocolate) chopped into small pieces. Whisk to melt the chocolate, enjoy with pretzels in lieu of the wonderful pretzel croissant we had at City Bakery.



Unfortunately, while good, the hot chocolate was not thick enough. The City Bakery stuff literally globbed into the cup, it was that thick. Next time, I think I will add less milk and more cornstarch. And what the heck, maybe more chocolate too.



Any good chocolate stories? Recipes I should try?

[image error]

Clutter

Captain's Log, Stardate 10.27.2011



I'm over at the Girls, God, and the Good Life blog with something a bit less serious (like that's a surprise) about a secret I learned relating to my work efficiency and concentration.

Ebooks, DRMs, and consignment stores

Captain's Log, Stardate 10.25.2011



I'm over at the ChristiansRead blog today with an article that might interest some of you:

I was running today and came up with this neat way to explain ebooks and DRM to people. I hope this helps some of you who are confused about the different ebook readers and types of ebook files.

Click here to read the rest of the article.

Street Team book list excerpt - Wonderland Creek by Lynn Austin

Camy here: Here's another book I added to my Street Team book giveaway list! You can win this book by joining my Street Team--Click here for more info!



Wonderland Creek

by

Lynn Austin



Alice Grace Ripley lives in a dream world, her nose stuck in a book. But happily-ever-after life she's planned on suddenly falls apart when her boyfriend, Gordon, breaks up with her, accusing her of living in a world of fiction instead of the real world. Then to top it off, Alice loses her beloved job at the library because of cutbacks due to the Great Depression.



Fleeing small-town gossip, Alice heads to the mountains of eastern Kentucky to deliver five boxes of donated books to the library in the tiny coal-mining village of Acorn. Dropped off by her relatives, Alice volunteers to stay for two weeks to help the librarian, Leslie McDougal.



But the librarian turns out to be far different than she anticipated--not to mention the four lady librarians who travel to the remote homes to deliver the much-desired books. While Alice is trapped in Acorn against her will, she soon finds that real-life adventure and mystery--and especially romance--are far better than her humble dreams could have imagined.



Excerpt of chapter one:



Wonderland Creek



Print book:

Barnes and Noble

Amazon

Christianbook.com

BOOKSAMILLION.COM



Ebook:

Nookbook

Kindle

Christianbook.com

BOOKSAMILLION.COM

Pardon the construction ...

Captain's Log, Stardate 10.20.2011



Sorry the blog looks weird (actually, I'm not sure if it looks weird on your computer browsers, but it does on mine).



I'm in the process of moving to a new host server. My website was down for a little while earlier this week (so if you emailed me and it bounced, I'm sorry about that!) but things should be fine now.



In all the moving, my blog design wasn't moved over seamlessly but I've got a website guru looking into that for me. In the meantime, sorry for the construction! :)



If you haven't yet, please check out my website and let me know what you think. You might have seen this design from a few months ago, but it changed a tiny bit when I switched to my new host server.



http://www.camytang.com



Also, I just launched a new Street Team contest. So if you haven't signed up for my Street Team yet, what are you waiting for? It's fun and you can win lots of prizes!