Camy Tang's Blog, page 156
March 18, 2011
Street Team Book list excerpt - THE CAREGIVER by Shelley Shepard Gray
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!
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing The Caregiver Avon Inspire; Original edition (March 8, 2011) by Shelley Shepard Gray
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Shelley Shepard Gray is the beloved author of the Sisters of the Heart series, including Hidden, Wanted, and Forgiven. Before writing, she was a teacher in both Texas and Colorado. She now writes full time and lives in southern Ohio with her husband and two children. When not writing, Shelley volunteers at church, reads, and enjoys walking her miniature dachshund on her town's scenic bike trail.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Two lives converge one stormy night on a train headed to cleveland
Lucy is traveling by herself via train to Jacob's Crossing to help care for her cousin Mattie, recently diagnosed with breast cancer. Trying to overcome the sudden death of her husband, she's glad to get away and focus on someone else for a while.
The only other Amish people on the train are Calvin Weaver and his little sister, Katie. When their train breaks down outside of Cleveland, Calvin and Lucy band together to face the outside world. But Calvin also carries the weight of past hurts. When an altercation brings both their wounds to light, they question whether they can trust each other.
Once in Jacob's Crossing, Lucy is occupied with caring for Mattie, while Calvin does his best to run his family's farm. But they can't stop thinking about those special hours spent together. Will the bond they formed last? And will Lucy and Calvin be able to put away the pain in their pasts to recognize the happiness that is suddenly in their grasp?
Excerpt of chapter one:
Prologue
Lucy shielded her face when the antique platter crashed to the floor. Though whether she was shielding it from shards of pottery or bracing herself for another sting from Paul's hand, she didn't really know.
Most likely both.
But all her husband did was pull open the screen door. "You are such a disappointment, Lucy," he bit out, each word seething with venom. "Such a disappointment. In every possible way."
Her lip bled as she fought to remain still under his glar¬ing eyes. Prepared herself for another diatribe. Then Paul simply shook his head in disgust and stormed out the kitchen door. It slammed behind him as he bolted down the stairs and strode along the worn path to their barn.
When his footsteps faded, Lucy leaned against the gleaming counters of her kitchen and willed herself to stop shaking.
Trembling and crying won't help, she sternly urged her¬self. When Paul came back, he would expect every trace of the bright blue dish cleaned up and the rest of the kitchen to be spotless. With a scant glance at the clock over the screen door, she saw it was a quarter after six.
She had fifteen minutes. Maybe eighteen.
After wiping the blood from her mouth with a dish¬cloth, she carefully picked up the pieces of pottery. Tried not to remember her grandmother's expression when she'd presented the serving piece to her and Paul. Her lip quivered. Oh, but her grandmother had been so proud to give her something that had been in their family for four generations.
And Lucy had been proud to receive it. After all, she was the eldest of six children and was marrying well. Paul Troyer was a pillar of their community and had promised that he would be able to help out her brothers and sisters financially.
And now the dish was shattered. Irreparable. Much like her marriage.
She glanced at the clock again. 6:22. Oh, but time is wasting! Quickly, Lucy picked up her pace. Putting both knees on the ground, she scanned the floor and snatched up every shard that she could find, only wincing slightly when one of the pieces tore at her thumb.
After hurriedly bandaging her finger so blood wouldn't stain anything, Lucy wiped the floor with a damp cloth. Then she attacked the dishes—the source of Paul's latest discontent. Dinner had been late. She'd been helping her mother with her littlest sister. Lizzie had the flu and was feverish, so Lucy had offered to watch her while her mother went to school to attend Jeremy and Karl's spell¬ing bee program.
But then her mother had run late. Making Lucy return late. And the chicken had gone into the oven at 5:30 in¬stead of 5:15. Paul had been very angry.
She darted a look out the window. Surmising that he was still in the barn, Lucy breathed a sigh of relief. All she had to do was wash the dishes, scrub two pans, and put them all neatly away before he returned. If she did that, everything might still be all right.
She stole another glance at the clock. 6:26.
With the experience of almost two years of marriage, Lucy hurriedly wrapped up the remains of the dinner, then washed and dried each piece of pottery. Sweat ran down the middle of her back as she raced to put each dish away, then ran a cloth over the counters.
Finally, she straightened out the red-and-white tin can¬isters to the right of the oven. Made sure they were in perfect alignment, not a one out of place.
Only then did she allow herself to breathe a sigh of relief. The kitchen was clean. She darted yet another glance at the clock. 6:34. She had made it.
As she always did, Lucy braced herself to hear Paul's footsteps. Prepared to meet him with a smile . . . as if he hadn't thrown the dinner platter to the floor. As if he hadn't raised his hand to her.
But still the clock ticked . . . and he didn't arrive. Warily, Lucy peeked out the window. Glanced at the clock. 6:50.
A new set of worries settled in her stomach. To spend so long in the barn wasn't like him. Paul was nothing if not prompt; and she had learned the hard way about the folly of not adhering to his schedule.
Not knowing what else to do, she pulled out a chair. And waited. Another hour passed.
When the sun started to set, Lucy stood and paced. Common sense told her to walk to the barn to check on her husband. But self-preservation warned her. Paul didn't like her to disturb him. He didn't like her to spy on him.
And surely he would not be happy if she went to the barn without him telling her she could. Almost without thought, she rubbed the knot that now was a permanent fixture on her arm. She'd learned that lesson the hard way.
Thirty minutes later, Lucy felt sick to her stomach. It was now almost 8:30, the time Paul liked to read the Bible and discuss his plans for the next day. Surely something was wrong.
Worrying her bottom lip, she slowly opened the screen door and stepped outside. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Star, their shepherd mix, whining outside the barn door.
"Star?"
The dog barked, then whined some more. Pulled on the rope that hitched him to a post by the barn's entrance.
Lucy started forward. For Star to be still tied up, that was strange indeed. Usually Paul let him loose once he went into the barn to inspect the horses. "Star? Are you okay?" she asked as she freed the dog.
The dog answered by barking again and pawing at the barn's entrance.
Lucy gathered her courage. Prepared herself to meet Paul's barrage of abuse for disturbing him. Or for him to yank at her shoulder for spying.
But the daylight was waning. Lucy didn't know what Paul wanted her to do, but when Star pawed the door again, she opened it and stepped in. Her heart beat wildly. With a cautious, dry swallow, she whispered, "Paul?"
Only the nervous neigh of their horses replied.
She walked in farther, then stopped in shock.
Paul lay at the base of the ladder that led to the barn's loft. She rushed to his side and knelt, Star at her heels. "Paul!" she cried out. "Paul! Paul?"
That's when she noticed his neck was at an odd angle and his eyes were open. Lifeless.
Gingerly, she pressed two fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse. But there wasn't one. Her husband was dead.
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing The Caregiver Avon Inspire; Original edition (March 8, 2011) by Shelley Shepard Gray
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Shelley Shepard Gray is the beloved author of the Sisters of the Heart series, including Hidden, Wanted, and Forgiven. Before writing, she was a teacher in both Texas and Colorado. She now writes full time and lives in southern Ohio with her husband and two children. When not writing, Shelley volunteers at church, reads, and enjoys walking her miniature dachshund on her town's scenic bike trail.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Two lives converge one stormy night on a train headed to cleveland Lucy is traveling by herself via train to Jacob's Crossing to help care for her cousin Mattie, recently diagnosed with breast cancer. Trying to overcome the sudden death of her husband, she's glad to get away and focus on someone else for a while.
The only other Amish people on the train are Calvin Weaver and his little sister, Katie. When their train breaks down outside of Cleveland, Calvin and Lucy band together to face the outside world. But Calvin also carries the weight of past hurts. When an altercation brings both their wounds to light, they question whether they can trust each other.
Once in Jacob's Crossing, Lucy is occupied with caring for Mattie, while Calvin does his best to run his family's farm. But they can't stop thinking about those special hours spent together. Will the bond they formed last? And will Lucy and Calvin be able to put away the pain in their pasts to recognize the happiness that is suddenly in their grasp?
Excerpt of chapter one:
Prologue
Lucy shielded her face when the antique platter crashed to the floor. Though whether she was shielding it from shards of pottery or bracing herself for another sting from Paul's hand, she didn't really know.
Most likely both.
But all her husband did was pull open the screen door. "You are such a disappointment, Lucy," he bit out, each word seething with venom. "Such a disappointment. In every possible way."
Her lip bled as she fought to remain still under his glar¬ing eyes. Prepared herself for another diatribe. Then Paul simply shook his head in disgust and stormed out the kitchen door. It slammed behind him as he bolted down the stairs and strode along the worn path to their barn.
When his footsteps faded, Lucy leaned against the gleaming counters of her kitchen and willed herself to stop shaking.
Trembling and crying won't help, she sternly urged her¬self. When Paul came back, he would expect every trace of the bright blue dish cleaned up and the rest of the kitchen to be spotless. With a scant glance at the clock over the screen door, she saw it was a quarter after six.
She had fifteen minutes. Maybe eighteen.
After wiping the blood from her mouth with a dish¬cloth, she carefully picked up the pieces of pottery. Tried not to remember her grandmother's expression when she'd presented the serving piece to her and Paul. Her lip quivered. Oh, but her grandmother had been so proud to give her something that had been in their family for four generations.
And Lucy had been proud to receive it. After all, she was the eldest of six children and was marrying well. Paul Troyer was a pillar of their community and had promised that he would be able to help out her brothers and sisters financially.
And now the dish was shattered. Irreparable. Much like her marriage.
She glanced at the clock again. 6:22. Oh, but time is wasting! Quickly, Lucy picked up her pace. Putting both knees on the ground, she scanned the floor and snatched up every shard that she could find, only wincing slightly when one of the pieces tore at her thumb.
After hurriedly bandaging her finger so blood wouldn't stain anything, Lucy wiped the floor with a damp cloth. Then she attacked the dishes—the source of Paul's latest discontent. Dinner had been late. She'd been helping her mother with her littlest sister. Lizzie had the flu and was feverish, so Lucy had offered to watch her while her mother went to school to attend Jeremy and Karl's spell¬ing bee program.
But then her mother had run late. Making Lucy return late. And the chicken had gone into the oven at 5:30 in¬stead of 5:15. Paul had been very angry.
She darted a look out the window. Surmising that he was still in the barn, Lucy breathed a sigh of relief. All she had to do was wash the dishes, scrub two pans, and put them all neatly away before he returned. If she did that, everything might still be all right.
She stole another glance at the clock. 6:26.
With the experience of almost two years of marriage, Lucy hurriedly wrapped up the remains of the dinner, then washed and dried each piece of pottery. Sweat ran down the middle of her back as she raced to put each dish away, then ran a cloth over the counters.
Finally, she straightened out the red-and-white tin can¬isters to the right of the oven. Made sure they were in perfect alignment, not a one out of place.
Only then did she allow herself to breathe a sigh of relief. The kitchen was clean. She darted yet another glance at the clock. 6:34. She had made it.
As she always did, Lucy braced herself to hear Paul's footsteps. Prepared to meet him with a smile . . . as if he hadn't thrown the dinner platter to the floor. As if he hadn't raised his hand to her.
But still the clock ticked . . . and he didn't arrive. Warily, Lucy peeked out the window. Glanced at the clock. 6:50.
A new set of worries settled in her stomach. To spend so long in the barn wasn't like him. Paul was nothing if not prompt; and she had learned the hard way about the folly of not adhering to his schedule.
Not knowing what else to do, she pulled out a chair. And waited. Another hour passed.
When the sun started to set, Lucy stood and paced. Common sense told her to walk to the barn to check on her husband. But self-preservation warned her. Paul didn't like her to disturb him. He didn't like her to spy on him.
And surely he would not be happy if she went to the barn without him telling her she could. Almost without thought, she rubbed the knot that now was a permanent fixture on her arm. She'd learned that lesson the hard way.
Thirty minutes later, Lucy felt sick to her stomach. It was now almost 8:30, the time Paul liked to read the Bible and discuss his plans for the next day. Surely something was wrong.
Worrying her bottom lip, she slowly opened the screen door and stepped outside. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Star, their shepherd mix, whining outside the barn door.
"Star?"
The dog barked, then whined some more. Pulled on the rope that hitched him to a post by the barn's entrance.
Lucy started forward. For Star to be still tied up, that was strange indeed. Usually Paul let him loose once he went into the barn to inspect the horses. "Star? Are you okay?" she asked as she freed the dog.
The dog answered by barking again and pawing at the barn's entrance.
Lucy gathered her courage. Prepared herself to meet Paul's barrage of abuse for disturbing him. Or for him to yank at her shoulder for spying.
But the daylight was waning. Lucy didn't know what Paul wanted her to do, but when Star pawed the door again, she opened it and stepped in. Her heart beat wildly. With a cautious, dry swallow, she whispered, "Paul?"
Only the nervous neigh of their horses replied.
She walked in farther, then stopped in shock.
Paul lay at the base of the ladder that led to the barn's loft. She rushed to his side and knelt, Star at her heels. "Paul!" she cried out. "Paul! Paul?"
That's when she noticed his neck was at an odd angle and his eyes were open. Lifeless.
Gingerly, she pressed two fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse. But there wasn't one. Her husband was dead.
March 11, 2011
Street Team Book List excerpt - A HEART MOST WORTHY by Siri Mitchell
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!
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing A Heart Most Worthy Bethany House (March 1, 2011) by Siri Mitchell
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Siri Mitchell graduated from the University of Washington with a business degree and worked in various levels of government. As a military spouse, she has lived all over the world, including in Paris and Tokyo. Siri enjoys observing and learning from different cultures. She is fluent in French and loves sushi.
But she is also a member of a strange breed of people called novelists. When they're listening to a sermon and taking notes, chances are, they've just had a great idea for a plot or a dialogue. If they nod in response to a really profound statement, they're probably thinking, "Yes. Right. That's exactly what my character needs to hear." When they edit their manuscripts, they laugh at the funny parts. And cry at the sad parts. Sometimes they even talk to their characters.
Siri wrote 4 books and accumulated 153 rejections before signing with a publisher. In the process, she saw the bottoms of more pints of Ben & Jerry's than she cares to admit. At various times she has vowed never to write another word again. Ever. She has gone on writing strikes and even stooped to threatening her manuscripts with the shredder.
Her ninth novel, A Heart Most Worthy, follows prior Bethany House releases: A Constant Heart (October 2008), Love's Pursuit (June 2009), and She Walks in Beauty (Apr 2010). She Walks in Beauty won the inaugural INSPY Award for Historical Fiction in Dec 2010. Two of her novels, Chateau of Echoes and The Cubicle Next Door were Christy Award finalists. Love's Pursuit was a finalist for the ACFW Carol Award.
Publishers Weekly proclaimed, "Mitchell delivers the historical goods."
ABOUT THE BOOK
The elegance of Madame Forza's gown shop is a far cry from the downtrodden North End of Boston. Yet each day Julietta, Annamaria, and Luciana enter the world of the upper class, working on finery for the elite in society. The three beauties each long to break free of their obligations and embrace the American dream--and their chance for love. But the ways of the heart are difficult to discern at times.
Julietta is drawn to the swarthy, mysterious Angelo. Annamaria has a star-crossed encounter with the grocer's son, a man from the entirely wrong family. And through no intent of her own, Luciana catches the eye of Billy Quinn, the son of Madame Forza's most important client.
Their destinies intertwined, each harboring a secret from their families and each other, will they be found worthy of the love they seek?
Excerpt of chapter one:
A Heart Most Worthy
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing A Heart Most Worthy Bethany House (March 1, 2011) by Siri Mitchell
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Siri Mitchell graduated from the University of Washington with a business degree and worked in various levels of government. As a military spouse, she has lived all over the world, including in Paris and Tokyo. Siri enjoys observing and learning from different cultures. She is fluent in French and loves sushi.
But she is also a member of a strange breed of people called novelists. When they're listening to a sermon and taking notes, chances are, they've just had a great idea for a plot or a dialogue. If they nod in response to a really profound statement, they're probably thinking, "Yes. Right. That's exactly what my character needs to hear." When they edit their manuscripts, they laugh at the funny parts. And cry at the sad parts. Sometimes they even talk to their characters.
Siri wrote 4 books and accumulated 153 rejections before signing with a publisher. In the process, she saw the bottoms of more pints of Ben & Jerry's than she cares to admit. At various times she has vowed never to write another word again. Ever. She has gone on writing strikes and even stooped to threatening her manuscripts with the shredder.
Her ninth novel, A Heart Most Worthy, follows prior Bethany House releases: A Constant Heart (October 2008), Love's Pursuit (June 2009), and She Walks in Beauty (Apr 2010). She Walks in Beauty won the inaugural INSPY Award for Historical Fiction in Dec 2010. Two of her novels, Chateau of Echoes and The Cubicle Next Door were Christy Award finalists. Love's Pursuit was a finalist for the ACFW Carol Award.
Publishers Weekly proclaimed, "Mitchell delivers the historical goods."
ABOUT THE BOOK
The elegance of Madame Forza's gown shop is a far cry from the downtrodden North End of Boston. Yet each day Julietta, Annamaria, and Luciana enter the world of the upper class, working on finery for the elite in society. The three beauties each long to break free of their obligations and embrace the American dream--and their chance for love. But the ways of the heart are difficult to discern at times. Julietta is drawn to the swarthy, mysterious Angelo. Annamaria has a star-crossed encounter with the grocer's son, a man from the entirely wrong family. And through no intent of her own, Luciana catches the eye of Billy Quinn, the son of Madame Forza's most important client.
Their destinies intertwined, each harboring a secret from their families and each other, will they be found worthy of the love they seek?
Excerpt of chapter one:
A Heart Most Worthy
March 7, 2011
Street Team Book List excerpt - HEARTS AGLOW by Tracie Peterson
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!
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing Hearts Aglow Bethany House (March 1, 2011) by Tracie Peterson
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Tracie Peterson is the bestselling, award-winning author of more than 85 novels.
She received her first book contract in November, 1992 and saw A Place To Belong published in February 1993 with Barbour Publishings' Heartsong Presents. She wrote exclusively with Heartsong for the next two years, receiving their readership's vote for Favorite Author of the Year for three years in a row.
In December, 1995 she signed a contract with Bethany House Publishers to co-write a series with author Judith Pella. Tracie now writes exclusively for Bethany House Publishers.
She teaches writing workshops at a variety of conferences on subjects such as inspirational romance and historical research.
Tracie was awarded the Romantic Times Career Achievement Award for 2007 Inspirational Fiction and her books have won numerous awards for favorite books in a variety of contests.
Making her home in Montana, this Kansas native enjoys spending time with family--especially her three grandchildren--Rainy, Fox and Max. She's active in her church as the Director of Women's Ministries, coordinates a yearly writer's retreat for published authors, and travels, as time permits, to research her books
ABOUT THE BOOK
The future should be bright for Deborah Vandermark, who is now pursuing her interest in medicine alongside Dr. Christopher Clayton, who is courting her. But the lumber town is resistant to the idea of a woman physician, and she feels thwarted at every turn.
A more devastating blow occurs, however, when Christopher breaks off their relationship to return home to his troubled family. Despite her own love life going awry, Deborah is still intent to be a matchmaker for both her widowed mother and her brother, who has caught the eye of the spit-fire daughter of the local pastor.
But what will Deborah do when faced with the truth about Christopher's family? Is there hope for the two of them...or will Jake Wyeth's attentions finally catch Deborah's eye instead?
Excerpt of Chapter One:
Hearts Aglow
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing Hearts Aglow Bethany House (March 1, 2011) by Tracie Peterson
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Tracie Peterson is the bestselling, award-winning author of more than 85 novels.
She received her first book contract in November, 1992 and saw A Place To Belong published in February 1993 with Barbour Publishings' Heartsong Presents. She wrote exclusively with Heartsong for the next two years, receiving their readership's vote for Favorite Author of the Year for three years in a row.
In December, 1995 she signed a contract with Bethany House Publishers to co-write a series with author Judith Pella. Tracie now writes exclusively for Bethany House Publishers.
She teaches writing workshops at a variety of conferences on subjects such as inspirational romance and historical research.
Tracie was awarded the Romantic Times Career Achievement Award for 2007 Inspirational Fiction and her books have won numerous awards for favorite books in a variety of contests.
Making her home in Montana, this Kansas native enjoys spending time with family--especially her three grandchildren--Rainy, Fox and Max. She's active in her church as the Director of Women's Ministries, coordinates a yearly writer's retreat for published authors, and travels, as time permits, to research her books
ABOUT THE BOOK
The future should be bright for Deborah Vandermark, who is now pursuing her interest in medicine alongside Dr. Christopher Clayton, who is courting her. But the lumber town is resistant to the idea of a woman physician, and she feels thwarted at every turn. A more devastating blow occurs, however, when Christopher breaks off their relationship to return home to his troubled family. Despite her own love life going awry, Deborah is still intent to be a matchmaker for both her widowed mother and her brother, who has caught the eye of the spit-fire daughter of the local pastor.
But what will Deborah do when faced with the truth about Christopher's family? Is there hope for the two of them...or will Jake Wyeth's attentions finally catch Deborah's eye instead?
Excerpt of Chapter One:
Hearts Aglow
March 4, 2011
Excerpt - A BOND NEVER BROKEN by Judith Miller
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing A Bond Never Broken Bethany House (March 1, 2011) by Judith Miller
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: A Word from Judith:
Most readers want to know how authors 'got started' writing. My first novel, Threads of Love, was conceived when I was commuting sixty miles to work each day. I wanted to tell the story of a pioneer girl coming to Kansas and the faith that sustained her as she adjusted to a new life. When the book was completed, I tucked it away. I had absolutely no idea how publication of a book occurred and had given no thought to the concept. However, through a co-worker, I was directed to Tracie Peterson who, at that time, worked down the hall from me. Having never met Tracie, I was totally unaware of her writing career, but God intervened. The rest is, as they say, history...
With a graciousness that continues to amaze me, Tracie agreed to read my story, directed me to a publisher, and gave me information on a Christian writers conference. Since that first encounter many years ago, I have been blessed with the publication of numerous books, novellas and a juvenile fiction book. Joyously, Tracie and I had the opportunity to develop a blessed friendship. In fact, we have co-authored several series together, including The Bells of Lowell, the Lights of Lowell and The Broadmoor Legacy. In addition, I have continued to write several solo series.
ABOUT THE BOOK
For many years, Ilsa Redlich has helped her parents run a hotel in South Amana, but as the United States enters the Great War, she can feel her world changing. The residents of the towns surrounding the Amana Colonies used to be accepting of their quiet, peaceful neighbors, but with anti-German sentiment running high, the Amana villages are now plagued by vandalism, threats, and insults.
Things get even worse when Ilsa finds out her family won't be allowed to speak German in public--and that Garon, the childhood friend she's long been smitten with, has decided to join the army. Jutta Schmidt is shocked when several members of the Council of National Defense show up on her family's doorstep. Sure, the Schmidts once lived in the Amana Colonies, but that was years ago. She's even more surprised when the council demands that she travel to Amana and report back on any un-American activities.
Not daring to disobey the government agents, Jutta takes a job at the South Amana hotel, befriends the daughter of the owners, and begins to eavesdrop every chance she gets. When Jutta hears Ilsa making antiwar remarks and observes Garon assisting a suspicious outsider, she is torn at the prospect of betraying her new friends.
But what choice does she have? And when Garon is accused of something far worse than Jutta could imagine, can the Amana community come to his aid in time?
Excerpt of chapter one:
A Bond Never Broken
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: A Word from Judith:
Most readers want to know how authors 'got started' writing. My first novel, Threads of Love, was conceived when I was commuting sixty miles to work each day. I wanted to tell the story of a pioneer girl coming to Kansas and the faith that sustained her as she adjusted to a new life. When the book was completed, I tucked it away. I had absolutely no idea how publication of a book occurred and had given no thought to the concept. However, through a co-worker, I was directed to Tracie Peterson who, at that time, worked down the hall from me. Having never met Tracie, I was totally unaware of her writing career, but God intervened. The rest is, as they say, history...
With a graciousness that continues to amaze me, Tracie agreed to read my story, directed me to a publisher, and gave me information on a Christian writers conference. Since that first encounter many years ago, I have been blessed with the publication of numerous books, novellas and a juvenile fiction book. Joyously, Tracie and I had the opportunity to develop a blessed friendship. In fact, we have co-authored several series together, including The Bells of Lowell, the Lights of Lowell and The Broadmoor Legacy. In addition, I have continued to write several solo series.
ABOUT THE BOOK
For many years, Ilsa Redlich has helped her parents run a hotel in South Amana, but as the United States enters the Great War, she can feel her world changing. The residents of the towns surrounding the Amana Colonies used to be accepting of their quiet, peaceful neighbors, but with anti-German sentiment running high, the Amana villages are now plagued by vandalism, threats, and insults. Things get even worse when Ilsa finds out her family won't be allowed to speak German in public--and that Garon, the childhood friend she's long been smitten with, has decided to join the army. Jutta Schmidt is shocked when several members of the Council of National Defense show up on her family's doorstep. Sure, the Schmidts once lived in the Amana Colonies, but that was years ago. She's even more surprised when the council demands that she travel to Amana and report back on any un-American activities.
Not daring to disobey the government agents, Jutta takes a job at the South Amana hotel, befriends the daughter of the owners, and begins to eavesdrop every chance she gets. When Jutta hears Ilsa making antiwar remarks and observes Garon assisting a suspicious outsider, she is torn at the prospect of betraying her new friends.
But what choice does she have? And when Garon is accused of something far worse than Jutta could imagine, can the Amana community come to his aid in time?
Excerpt of chapter one:
A Bond Never Broken
March 2, 2011
Street Team Book List excerpt - IN THE SHADOW OF EVIL by Robin Caroll
Camy here: This is another great page-turner by Robin Caroll. And I have to admit, MADDOX IS HOT!!!! HOT HOT HOT HOT HOT!!!! Okay, I've embarrassed myself enough, I think. :)
I've also added this to my Street Team book giveaway list! You can win this book by joining my Street Team--Click here for more info!
Today's Wild Card author is:
Robin Caroll
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Robin Caroll is a leading Christian suspense novelist. She gives back to the writing community as conference director for the American Christian Fiction Writers organization. A proud southerner through and through, Robin lives with her husband and three daughters in Arkansas.
Visit the author's website.
SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:
Informed by the real-life fallout of the U.S. economy and devastation caused by multiple hurricanes along the southern coast, In the Shadow of Evil tells a modern day story involving the exposure of a building rebound scam. Amidst the layers of unethical practices, supply shortages, and excess murders, a top Louisiana homicide detective loses his heart to a charitable contractor while uncovering a secret about his tragic past.
Product Details:
List Price: $14.98
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: B&H Books (March 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0805449795
ISBN-13: 978-0805449792
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Prologue
Eighteen Years Earlier
What a night!
Maddox turned his car into the residential area and glanced at the digital display on the dash—12:28. Great, late for curfew. He smiled. Being late was worth it when he'd had a hot date with Julie Cordon. Man, the girl was something else. Beautiful, sexy, and funny. Just being with her made him feel special. Made him forget lots of things, including time.
Besides, he was seventeen. Curfews were for kids! A senior in high school, and he had to be home by midnight? All his Pop's doing.
Tyson Bishop…Mr. Air Force man, determined to force the entire family to live by rules and regulations.
But his dad was over foreign soil right now, jumping out of perfectly good airplanes. Mom understood better, wasn't quite the stickler about curfews like his dad. Good thing, too. Maddox was almost thirty minutes late tonight. Pop would blow his top and ground him for at least a month. Probably take away his car. But not Mom. She'd just caution him to pay closer attention to the time. Launch into the whole spiel about responsibility and accountability. He could recite it from memory.
Maddox whipped into the driveway and pressed the garage door opener. The light from the kitchen door spilled into the garage. Mom would be up…waiting. He should've called.
But being around Julie was like being caught in a time warp. Even the car's interior held her smell. Light, flowery…teasing and tempting.
He killed the engine and jogged up the steps, slipping his charming smile into place. His mom had never been able to stay mad or disappointed when he flashed his dimples at her. He'd promise to mow the grass tomorrow before Pop got home, and she'd forget all about his tardiness.
He shut the garage door behind him and entered the kitchen. "Mom? I'm home." The hint of roast lingered in the air.
The house was as silent as a tomb.
Odd. She would normally be on her feet to meet him.
He passed the kitchen's butcher-block island and continued into the living room. A soft light filled the space beside her reading chair, but no sign of her.
"Mom?"
Maddox backtracked to the kitchen. Maybe she was in the downstairs bathroom.
"Hello?" His voice rose an octave as his pulse hammered. The bathroom door was wide open, the room dark.
Where was she?
His steps faltered as he pressed into the kitchen again. The backdoor stood open, the glass pane closest to the knob—shattered. His heart jumped into his throat.
"Mom!"
Using the agility that had garnered him the wide receiver place on the varsity football team, Maddox flew down the hall toward his parents' bedroom. He pushed open the door with shaking hands.
His mother lay sprawled on the floor, a pool of blood staining the carpet around her. Her face pale against the dark red spilling from her chest. A metallic odor permeated the room.
What? He blinked repeatedly, his mind not processing what his eyes saw. Then…he did. And nearly vomited.
He raced to her side, lifting her head into his lap. "Mom." Tears backed up in his eyes as he smoothed her hair.
"Mad-dy," she croaked.
He grabbed the phone from the nightstand, the base landing on the floor with a resounding thud. He grabbed the receiver and punched in 9-1-1.
"Hang on, Mom. I'm calling for help." Every nerve in his body stood at high alert.
"Too. Late." She grimaced. A gurgling seeped from between her lips. Her body went slack in his arms.
"911, what is the nature of your emergency?"
He closed his eyes. Fought back scalding tears. "My mother. She's been murdered."
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!
I've also added this to my Street Team book giveaway list! You can win this book by joining my Street Team--Click here for more info!
Today's Wild Card author is:
Robin Caroll
and the book:
B&H Books (March 1, 2011)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Robin Caroll is a leading Christian suspense novelist. She gives back to the writing community as conference director for the American Christian Fiction Writers organization. A proud southerner through and through, Robin lives with her husband and three daughters in Arkansas.
Visit the author's website.
SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:
Informed by the real-life fallout of the U.S. economy and devastation caused by multiple hurricanes along the southern coast, In the Shadow of Evil tells a modern day story involving the exposure of a building rebound scam. Amidst the layers of unethical practices, supply shortages, and excess murders, a top Louisiana homicide detective loses his heart to a charitable contractor while uncovering a secret about his tragic past.Product Details:
List Price: $14.98
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: B&H Books (March 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0805449795
ISBN-13: 978-0805449792
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Prologue
Eighteen Years Earlier
What a night!
Maddox turned his car into the residential area and glanced at the digital display on the dash—12:28. Great, late for curfew. He smiled. Being late was worth it when he'd had a hot date with Julie Cordon. Man, the girl was something else. Beautiful, sexy, and funny. Just being with her made him feel special. Made him forget lots of things, including time.
Besides, he was seventeen. Curfews were for kids! A senior in high school, and he had to be home by midnight? All his Pop's doing.
Tyson Bishop…Mr. Air Force man, determined to force the entire family to live by rules and regulations.
But his dad was over foreign soil right now, jumping out of perfectly good airplanes. Mom understood better, wasn't quite the stickler about curfews like his dad. Good thing, too. Maddox was almost thirty minutes late tonight. Pop would blow his top and ground him for at least a month. Probably take away his car. But not Mom. She'd just caution him to pay closer attention to the time. Launch into the whole spiel about responsibility and accountability. He could recite it from memory.
Maddox whipped into the driveway and pressed the garage door opener. The light from the kitchen door spilled into the garage. Mom would be up…waiting. He should've called.
But being around Julie was like being caught in a time warp. Even the car's interior held her smell. Light, flowery…teasing and tempting.
He killed the engine and jogged up the steps, slipping his charming smile into place. His mom had never been able to stay mad or disappointed when he flashed his dimples at her. He'd promise to mow the grass tomorrow before Pop got home, and she'd forget all about his tardiness.
He shut the garage door behind him and entered the kitchen. "Mom? I'm home." The hint of roast lingered in the air.
The house was as silent as a tomb.
Odd. She would normally be on her feet to meet him.
He passed the kitchen's butcher-block island and continued into the living room. A soft light filled the space beside her reading chair, but no sign of her.
"Mom?"
Maddox backtracked to the kitchen. Maybe she was in the downstairs bathroom.
"Hello?" His voice rose an octave as his pulse hammered. The bathroom door was wide open, the room dark.
Where was she?
His steps faltered as he pressed into the kitchen again. The backdoor stood open, the glass pane closest to the knob—shattered. His heart jumped into his throat.
"Mom!"
Using the agility that had garnered him the wide receiver place on the varsity football team, Maddox flew down the hall toward his parents' bedroom. He pushed open the door with shaking hands.
His mother lay sprawled on the floor, a pool of blood staining the carpet around her. Her face pale against the dark red spilling from her chest. A metallic odor permeated the room.
What? He blinked repeatedly, his mind not processing what his eyes saw. Then…he did. And nearly vomited.
He raced to her side, lifting her head into his lap. "Mom." Tears backed up in his eyes as he smoothed her hair.
"Mad-dy," she croaked.
He grabbed the phone from the nightstand, the base landing on the floor with a resounding thud. He grabbed the receiver and punched in 9-1-1.
"Hang on, Mom. I'm calling for help." Every nerve in his body stood at high alert.
"Too. Late." She grimaced. A gurgling seeped from between her lips. Her body went slack in his arms.
"911, what is the nature of your emergency?"
He closed his eyes. Fought back scalding tears. "My mother. She's been murdered."
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!
Excerpt - IN THE SHADOW OF EVIL by Robin Caroll
Camy here: This is another great page-turner by Robin Caroll. And I have to admit, MADDOX IS HOT!!!! HOT HOT HOT HOT HOT!!!! Okay, I've embarrassed myself enough, I think. :) Buy this book! It's an exciting read!
Today's Wild Card author is:
Robin Caroll
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Robin Caroll is a leading Christian suspense novelist. She gives back to the writing community as conference director for the American Christian Fiction Writers organization. A proud southerner through and through, Robin lives with her husband and three daughters in Arkansas.
Visit the author's website.
SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:
Informed by the real-life fallout of the U.S. economy and devastation caused by multiple hurricanes along the southern coast, In the Shadow of Evil tells a modern day story involving the exposure of a building rebound scam. Amidst the layers of unethical practices, supply shortages, and excess murders, a top Louisiana homicide detective loses his heart to a charitable contractor while uncovering a secret about his tragic past.
Product Details:
List Price: $14.98
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: B&H Books (March 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0805449795
ISBN-13: 978-0805449792
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Prologue
Eighteen Years Earlier
What a night!
Maddox turned his car into the residential area and glanced at the digital display on the dash—12:28. Great, late for curfew. He smiled. Being late was worth it when he'd had a hot date with Julie Cordon. Man, the girl was something else. Beautiful, sexy, and funny. Just being with her made him feel special. Made him forget lots of things, including time.
Besides, he was seventeen. Curfews were for kids! A senior in high school, and he had to be home by midnight? All his Pop's doing.
Tyson Bishop…Mr. Air Force man, determined to force the entire family to live by rules and regulations.
But his dad was over foreign soil right now, jumping out of perfectly good airplanes. Mom understood better, wasn't quite the stickler about curfews like his dad. Good thing, too. Maddox was almost thirty minutes late tonight. Pop would blow his top and ground him for at least a month. Probably take away his car. But not Mom. She'd just caution him to pay closer attention to the time. Launch into the whole spiel about responsibility and accountability. He could recite it from memory.
Maddox whipped into the driveway and pressed the garage door opener. The light from the kitchen door spilled into the garage. Mom would be up…waiting. He should've called.
But being around Julie was like being caught in a time warp. Even the car's interior held her smell. Light, flowery…teasing and tempting.
He killed the engine and jogged up the steps, slipping his charming smile into place. His mom had never been able to stay mad or disappointed when he flashed his dimples at her. He'd promise to mow the grass tomorrow before Pop got home, and she'd forget all about his tardiness.
He shut the garage door behind him and entered the kitchen. "Mom? I'm home." The hint of roast lingered in the air.
The house was as silent as a tomb.
Odd. She would normally be on her feet to meet him.
He passed the kitchen's butcher-block island and continued into the living room. A soft light filled the space beside her reading chair, but no sign of her.
"Mom?"
Maddox backtracked to the kitchen. Maybe she was in the downstairs bathroom.
"Hello?" His voice rose an octave as his pulse hammered. The bathroom door was wide open, the room dark.
Where was she?
His steps faltered as he pressed into the kitchen again. The backdoor stood open, the glass pane closest to the knob—shattered. His heart jumped into his throat.
"Mom!"
Using the agility that had garnered him the wide receiver place on the varsity football team, Maddox flew down the hall toward his parents' bedroom. He pushed open the door with shaking hands.
His mother lay sprawled on the floor, a pool of blood staining the carpet around her. Her face pale against the dark red spilling from her chest. A metallic odor permeated the room.
What? He blinked repeatedly, his mind not processing what his eyes saw. Then…he did. And nearly vomited.
He raced to her side, lifting her head into his lap. "Mom." Tears backed up in his eyes as he smoothed her hair.
"Mad-dy," she croaked.
He grabbed the phone from the nightstand, the base landing on the floor with a resounding thud. He grabbed the receiver and punched in 9-1-1.
"Hang on, Mom. I'm calling for help." Every nerve in his body stood at high alert.
"Too. Late." She grimaced. A gurgling seeped from between her lips. Her body went slack in his arms.
"911, what is the nature of your emergency?"
He closed his eyes. Fought back scalding tears. "My mother. She's been murdered."
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:
Robin Caroll
and the book:
B&H Books (March 1, 2011)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Robin Caroll is a leading Christian suspense novelist. She gives back to the writing community as conference director for the American Christian Fiction Writers organization. A proud southerner through and through, Robin lives with her husband and three daughters in Arkansas.
Visit the author's website.
SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:
Informed by the real-life fallout of the U.S. economy and devastation caused by multiple hurricanes along the southern coast, In the Shadow of Evil tells a modern day story involving the exposure of a building rebound scam. Amidst the layers of unethical practices, supply shortages, and excess murders, a top Louisiana homicide detective loses his heart to a charitable contractor while uncovering a secret about his tragic past.Product Details:
List Price: $14.98
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: B&H Books (March 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0805449795
ISBN-13: 978-0805449792
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Prologue
Eighteen Years Earlier
What a night!
Maddox turned his car into the residential area and glanced at the digital display on the dash—12:28. Great, late for curfew. He smiled. Being late was worth it when he'd had a hot date with Julie Cordon. Man, the girl was something else. Beautiful, sexy, and funny. Just being with her made him feel special. Made him forget lots of things, including time.
Besides, he was seventeen. Curfews were for kids! A senior in high school, and he had to be home by midnight? All his Pop's doing.
Tyson Bishop…Mr. Air Force man, determined to force the entire family to live by rules and regulations.
But his dad was over foreign soil right now, jumping out of perfectly good airplanes. Mom understood better, wasn't quite the stickler about curfews like his dad. Good thing, too. Maddox was almost thirty minutes late tonight. Pop would blow his top and ground him for at least a month. Probably take away his car. But not Mom. She'd just caution him to pay closer attention to the time. Launch into the whole spiel about responsibility and accountability. He could recite it from memory.
Maddox whipped into the driveway and pressed the garage door opener. The light from the kitchen door spilled into the garage. Mom would be up…waiting. He should've called.
But being around Julie was like being caught in a time warp. Even the car's interior held her smell. Light, flowery…teasing and tempting.
He killed the engine and jogged up the steps, slipping his charming smile into place. His mom had never been able to stay mad or disappointed when he flashed his dimples at her. He'd promise to mow the grass tomorrow before Pop got home, and she'd forget all about his tardiness.
He shut the garage door behind him and entered the kitchen. "Mom? I'm home." The hint of roast lingered in the air.
The house was as silent as a tomb.
Odd. She would normally be on her feet to meet him.
He passed the kitchen's butcher-block island and continued into the living room. A soft light filled the space beside her reading chair, but no sign of her.
"Mom?"
Maddox backtracked to the kitchen. Maybe she was in the downstairs bathroom.
"Hello?" His voice rose an octave as his pulse hammered. The bathroom door was wide open, the room dark.
Where was she?
His steps faltered as he pressed into the kitchen again. The backdoor stood open, the glass pane closest to the knob—shattered. His heart jumped into his throat.
"Mom!"
Using the agility that had garnered him the wide receiver place on the varsity football team, Maddox flew down the hall toward his parents' bedroom. He pushed open the door with shaking hands.
His mother lay sprawled on the floor, a pool of blood staining the carpet around her. Her face pale against the dark red spilling from her chest. A metallic odor permeated the room.
What? He blinked repeatedly, his mind not processing what his eyes saw. Then…he did. And nearly vomited.
He raced to her side, lifting her head into his lap. "Mom." Tears backed up in his eyes as he smoothed her hair.
"Mad-dy," she croaked.
He grabbed the phone from the nightstand, the base landing on the floor with a resounding thud. He grabbed the receiver and punched in 9-1-1.
"Hang on, Mom. I'm calling for help." Every nerve in his body stood at high alert.
"Too. Late." She grimaced. A gurgling seeped from between her lips. Her body went slack in his arms.
"911, what is the nature of your emergency?"
He closed his eyes. Fought back scalding tears. "My mother. She's been murdered."
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!
March 1, 2011
Excerpt - Springtime of the Spirit by Maureen Lang
Springtime of the Spiritby
Maureen Lang
By the fall of 1918, the Great War has ended and the world is at peace, but there is little to celebrate in Germany. After four years of fighting for his homeland, Christophe Brecht returns to find there is little left of what he once called home. So when family friends ask him to travel to Munich to bring back their runaway daughter, Christophe agrees.
When he finally locates Annaliese Duray, he discovers she is far different from the girl he once knew. Headstrong, idealistic, and beautiful, she is on the front lines of the city's political scene, fighting to give women and working-class citizens a voice in Germany's new government.
As the political upheaval ignites in Munich, so does the attraction between Annaliese and Christophe. With an army from Berlin threatening to squash everything Annaliese has worked for, both she and Christophe are forced to choose between love and loyalty.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Once there was a country that wanted a turn being a great and mighty empire. They
thought their freedom was at stake when the countries around them matched their race
for armaments. To protect that freedom and to make a try for their mighty empire, they
ordered their army—an army with a glorious history of excellence—to fight.
Despite all assurances that they would surely win, this country was defeated after all.
And its people, shocked over losing a war they'd been told would be won, ripened for
revolt against the leadership that had brought them not only the loss of so many men, but
the scorn of the world.
Some were willing to allow more sacrifice, but no longer from the workers and
soldiers who had already given so much.
Some wanted a better nation through finding a better part of themselves.
This is the story of two such people.
Part I
November 1918
Chapter One
One step, then another. He'd started out with his eyes forward, chin up, but all he could
see now were the tips of his boots.
Christophe Brecht was inside German territory, the train having taken them back
over the border, away from the trenches that had marred France for the past four years.
The ground his boots pounded now belonged to the fatherland.
Home.
The only sound was that of his men marching beside him—not that their tread could
be called marching. Most looked as tired and worn as he, barely able to take the next step.
They were still covered in the mud of no man's land, thick from boots to knee and in
varying layers up to the helmet.
Did any of them remember how it had been when they marched—yes, really
marched—in the other direction? Songs and praise echoed from every avenue, and
flowers showered them from smiling women, with proud pats on the back from fathers
and old men.
The city that had sent them so gloriously off to battle was still beyond sight. Those
not wishing to go all the way to Munich had been made to get off the train already, close
to but not at their requested destinations. The train lines were in disarray after handing
over half of their locomotives to the Allies, too much disarray to answer individual needs.
But Christophe wasn't far from Braedon, his small hometown some distance west of
Munich. He shoved away old thoughts of how this day was supposed to be. No victory
parades to greet them, no flowers. No woman to kiss him now that he was home. Just
silence.
He stared ahead under the autumn sunlight. His vision was clear, something the
army had taken advantage of when they'd trained him to be a sniper in the last chaotic
weeks of the war. Despite his earlier promotion from Hauptmann to Major, they'd stuck
him where he was needed most, no consideration of his rank. Not that he hadn't been a
successful sniper, but what he'd counted success only days ago now seemed something
else altogether.
Very likely many of the men beside him couldn't see the details he could—signs on
the series of poles before them: splashes of red, in flags, in backdrop. Signs he hadn't
seen the likes of since before the war. Back when people still talked about politics, when
the German voice wasn't the single one it had turned into during the war.
Then he saw it. An older poster, a bit tattered by the wind. The Kaiser's face, easily
recognizable with his mustache and uniform. A call to arms.
Christophe tore his gaze away, to the sky, back to his boots. He'd answered that call;
so had each of those who trod at his side. A call that had ended this way.
Rumor had it the Kaiser had fled Germany in disgrace. Good riddance. If what they
said about the armistice were true—that Germany was to be given sole blame for the
war—then the world hated them. Hated all of them for how the Kaiser and his cronies,
both aristocratic and military, had pushed them into this war.
Hated them almost as much as Christophe hated himself for all he'd done while in it.
His pace picked up before he knew it; blood pumped as wildly as it had during any
fight with the British or French, in offense or defense. He reached for a rock and hurled it
at the Kaiser's image. It landed with a thud directly between the eyes.
Another rock, then suddenly more than just his own, along with a grunt here and
there, a muffled cry. Were they his? No. A few men broke ranks and hurled themselves at
what was left of the poster.
All his life Christophe had needed something to cling to. His parents, a schoolmaster,
the church, his commanding officer. In the trenches, other soldiers. And Christ.
Hate filled him now—something he didn't want but couldn't rid himself of. He clung
to that
Christophe kept hold of the rock in his hand. No need to throw it—the poster had
disappeared.
***
"And so, fellow Germans! The calendar may say autumn, but in fact we are in the
springtime of Germany. The winter of an unjust war is behind us. New life buds for all
of us. Are there storms in spring? Yes, but the squalls bring us the energy we need for
change. We can build our country anew, and model for all—for ourselves and for our
neighbors, with the world's eye on us—that we speak as one voice, a voice of men, of
women, all of us together as one people without differences."
Annaliese barely paused, although the crowd was already beginning to cheer. She
read the same fervor on every face; it was like a wave passing over those gathered,
binding them together, uniting them.
"They'll hear us speak of protecting and not exploiting our fellow citizens. They'll
hear of our compassion for those in need, feel it in the plans to protect even the least in
Germany. They'll hear our demands for the equal distribution of food!"
Cries of affirmation forced a pause.
"We'll no longer be burdened by the yoke of a monarchy or kept under the thumb of
warmongers but we will be free—yes, really free—to live in the peace for which our men
fought. Peace! Freedom! Fairness! And bread!"
Annaliese Düray reveled in the jubilation, in the immediate approval of her call.
They outmatched her voice, which was a considerable thing because her voice was bigger
than she was—especially on this platform. Hands raised, she lifted her cry even louder,
proud of the timbre she'd inherited from her one-time schoolmarm mother. Not the
strident screech of some women but mid-toned, boisterous, easy on the ear even at this
pitch. "Peace is ours! And so is the future! If we rally behind the Party!"
"Anya . . . Anya, come along now."
Leo Beckenbauer's arm went around her waist and he ushered her from the crowd.
Two others carved a path between the brick wall of the Apotheke behind them and the
crowd before them, and off they went, the exuberance still echoing in her ears.
"Did you see them, Leo?" she called, breathless. "And more were coming! We
should stay—"
But he pressed forward and there was little she could do except follow, with Leo
next to her, bodyguards in front and behind them. Each one was a brother to her, united
not by blood but by something deeper, a passion ardent enough to stir all Germany
toward a better future. One that would bond them with others throughout the world.
They evaded the few people who followed by turning into a narrow gangway
between the back of the Apotheke and the shop next door. Only four blocks to the back of
the butcher shop Leo's father once ran, the temporary headquarters for those whose ideals
about the future matched their own.
Not a block away, Annaliese heard the echoes and cries of another rally, led by a
voice she recognized as belonging to another party. The communists—a party not likely
to support the recently appointed Bavarian Prime Minister Eisner the way she did. Eisner
had been appointed by revolution, with a quick and systematic takeover—and not a single
shot fired. Such a takeover would have been far different had the red communists been
in charge, even if they did want some of the same things Annaliese's own party wanted.
Eisner had agreed to a quick election just weeks from now, proving his confidence that he
had the will of the people behind him, even though a half dozen other parties demanded
their voices be heard, too.
But in this neighborhood only one voice was the loudest, and that was Jurgen's. A
socialist one.
She saw the exchange of glances between the men around her, starting with Leo
who looked at Ivo and Ivo who looked at Huey. Huey was an ironworker and Ivo a
woodworker—or Ivo had been, until the war had claimed most of his fingers. Despite
any hint of a disability, he was as tall as he was stalwart, just like Huey. It would take
little more than a word from either one of them to disperse a competing crowd in their
territory.
"I could have stayed this time, Leo," Annaliese said once they entered the back of
the darkened shop. Though the kitchen hadn't boasted a single slab of meat or even the
stingiest of sausages in well over a year, the slight residue of blood and spices still tickled
her nose when Leo closed the door behind them.
Leo went to the table where a stack of papers awaited him. "You know how Eisner
likes it; you and Jurgen are to keep their thoughts on Eisner's Council so the vote will be
won. You'll spend time more freely with the people once Jurgen is back beside you. He is
Eisner's Council around here, or at least the best known of the Council members."
Of all the voices struggling to be heard these days, other than Eisner himself, it was
Jurgen who attracted the biggest response from nearly all corners of their broken society.
His promises to meet everyday needs did not fall on deaf ears, because his was the voice
of the workers and the peasants themselves—of all those who'd never had a voice before.
Jurgen liked to tell Annaliese she brought the women's voice to him, but Annaliese
knew better. People came because they wanted to see Jurgen, to hear him, to witness
the spark in his eye as he promised them what they wanted most of all. Each came with
one need or another, but Jurgen promised that the Council had the answer no matter the
question.
And Leo had access to bread, when he could find it. Bread few could afford in the
quantities their office provided through donations and collections at street rallies. They
could afford collectively what individually they must do without. Starve alone or unite
and eat. Practical evidence of the effectiveness of the Council's goals.
"Oh! It must have been delivered while we were gone." Annaliese scooped up the
package left on the wide butcher's table beside the stack of notes Leo tended. "And just
in time for tomorrow's Council meeting."
Ripping away the string and paper, she held up the jacket for Leo to see. It was
exactly as she'd told the tailor to make it: broad across the shoulders, with a touch of
padding to make those shoulders appear fully capable of holding the world's woes, just
as he needed them to. And not black, but blue—dark, though, because anything too bright
would be out of place in their tattered world. Yet blue would cast his elegant eyes in the
best of light.
But Leo was shaking his head. "He'll look like a capitalist."
"No jacket will hide Jurgen's working class background. It's in the width of his
shoulders, the strength and size of his hands. In this, he'll look the way every man wants
to look. Strong. Fatherly yet handsome; a leader. And the color will reveal the poet in
him."
Leo aimed a skeptical brow her way. "Fatherly? I wasn't aware that's how you
viewed him."
She ignored the comment; it wasn't the first time Leo had tried coaxing free her
infatuation with Jurgen. "It's important that he not look like a military man, even if we
do want the military behind us. We've seen enough leaders in uniform. And he won't
wear the top hat of a capitalist, either, or the shoes of a monarch. He'll wear trousers
like anyone else, only this jacket will show he can take on another's burden without the
excesses of an exploiter."
"Yes, well, he's doing that, isn't he?" Leo fingered the sleeve—durable fabric, plain
but for the dark blue color. "Well chosen, Anya. You're young but smart, I've said so
right along."
Annaliese smiled at the praise, especially coming from Leo. Jurgen might be the one
to receive public praise in the name of Eisner's Council—or the blame from those who
disagreed—but anyone who worked beside them knew whatever Jurgen believed, Leo
had believed first.
Print book:
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Amazon
Christianbook.com
Books a Million
February 28, 2011
Excerpt - WHEN ALL MY DREAMS COME TRUE by Janelle Mowery
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing When All My Dreams Come True Harvest House Publishers (February 1, 2011) by Janelle Mowery
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Beginning in 1998, Janelle Mowery coordinated and wrote for the Children's Ministry of a Christian website called The Invisible Connection. When the holder of that site discontinued the ministry and website in the year 2000, she began writing inspirational fiction romance novels.
Janelle became a member of American Christian Fiction Writers in the year 2002 and is an active member and leader in one of their critique groups, which has provided many opportunities for growth and development. In 2003, she entered her first novel in the Noble Theme contest and was named one of the top ten finalists in the historical category. In 2004, she had a short story titled 'A Fair Chance' published in the e-magazine, Romancing the Christian Heart. In 2005, her third novel, entered in the San Gabriel Writers' League 'Writing Smarter' Contest, won first place. Also, Janelle's fifth novel made it to the top ten finalists in the Noble Theme contest.
In 2006, she signed her first contract with Barbour Publishing in their Heartsong Presents Mysteries line. The novel, Where the Truth Lies, which she co-authored with Elizabeth Ludwig, released in spring of 2008. The second and third mysteries of the series, Died in the Wool and A Black Die Affair, is set for release in 2011.
Janelle has signed with Harvest House for a historical series set in Colorado. Release of the first book is set for early 2011. She has also signed with Summerside Press. Her novel, Love Finds You in Silver City, Idaho, released in October 2010.
Janelle has been married twenty-one years and is the mother of two sons. She is a member of Sandy Point Bible Church and serves as Treasurer. She also assists in the church's teen program.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Bobbie McIntyre dreams of running a ranch of her own. Raised without a mother and having spent most of her time around men, she knows more about wrangling than acting like a lady. The friendship of her new employer awakens a desire to learn more about presenting her feminine side, but ranch life keeps getting in the way.
Ranch owner Jace Kincaid figures the Lord is testing his faith when a female wrangler shows up looking for work. Bobbie has an uncanny way of getting under his skin, though, and he's surprised when she finds a home next to his heart. But when his cattle begin to go missing and his wranglers are in danger from some low-down cattle thief, can Jace trust God, even if it may mean giving up on his dreams?
An adventurous novel of faith, hope, and love in the Wild West.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Chapter 1
Colorado Territory 1872
I'll be dead in a minute. Maybe less.
Bobbie McIntyre spurred her horse. "Faster, Mack. Hurry." She peeked over her shoulder, saw the man's gun poised at her back. Her heart thudded harder than the beat of Mack's hooves.
"Go, Mack!" The wind swallowed her plea.
The bandit was gaining ground fast. She leaned lower over the saddle. The cold mountain air blurred her vision and whistled past her ears. Mack's chest heaved and sweat streamed down his neck. He stumbled, then righted again.
She veered left toward the boulders, pulled her pistol from her holster, then turned in the saddle and aimed.
Something slammed into her back. Her gun blasted before it slipped from her grasp. She hit the ground, knocking the breath from her. A heavy weight pressed her down, then rolled off her. She lay dazed.
What happened?
The click of a gun hammer set fire to panic. She scooped up a fistful of soil and stones, pushed to her knees…and stared into the steel barrel of a pistol. The dirt in her hand trickled through her fingers to the ground.
She peered around for her own gun and faced another barrel. Two men. At least that answered her question of what threw her from the saddle. The second man must've been hiding behind the boulder she'd planned to use for protection. She stilled while her mind scrambled for a way out of her mess.
The tall, scruffy man grinned. "Well, looky here, Jace. We chased a man and caught us a gal."
Jace? Could this be Jace Kincaid?
The man named Jace shook his head. "Doesn't matter. An outlaw is an outlaw be it male or female."
The tall man snorted. "Outlaw? This slip of a woman?"
"Well, look at her. She's sure not dressed like a girl."
Bobbie grabbed her hat out of the dirt, resisting the urge to fling it at Jace, and shoved it on her head as she stood. "I don't know who you expected to find, but I ain't her. And I sure ain't no outlaw."
The tremor in her voice didn't make her sound as ominous and convincing as she'd hoped.
"Get her horse, Grant," Jace said. "Let's head on back."
"So we're not gonna hang her?"
Bobbie felt the blood drain from her face. "Hang? For what? Look, I'm—"
Jace swung his pistol toward her again. "Stay quiet, miss. You're already in trouble for prowling around on land that isn't yours."
"This is the Double K, ain't it?"
He scratched his forehead with his thumb. "Yes."
"And you're Jace Kincaid?"
Jace squinted and cocked his head. "Right again. But then, I'd expect you'd know that, what with all you've been up to."
"I ain't been up to nothing." She glared at him, brushing dirt and dead grass from her coat sleeves.
Jace took a deep breath and stood straighter, making him appear even more threatening. By the look of him, he could wrestle a steer and lasso a calf at the same time.
"Why'd you chase me, anyway?" she said. "I wasn't prowling. I was on my way to meet you."
"Likely story." He motioned to the horses. "Mount up. The next man you meet will be the sheriff."
Bobbie scowled and took several angry breaths through her nose. "Fine. Maybe he'll listen to me."
Grant lifted the strap on her saddlebags.
"Hold on there, that's private," Bobbie said.
He smirked. "Not anymore."
A gun barrel to her back kept her from taking more than a step. She raised her arms. "Those are my things."
Jace moved beside her. "Leave it be, Grant."
"I only plan to look."
"I said quit."
The tone of Jace's voice would've halted a stampede. Grant stepped back, hands poised in surrender, though a trace of a smile still pulled at his lips.
"Let's mount up," Jace said.
Bobbie looked around for her pistol, and Jace pushed the barrel into her back. "Get moving."
"I want my gun."
Grant pulled it from his waistband and handed it to Jace. "You mean this?"
Jace holstered his pistol and then pointed her gun at her nose. "Mount up."
She headed toward Mack.
"Hold it."
Jace's growl halted her in her tracks. He tucked her gun into his belt, jerked a piece of rope from his saddle, and tied her hands in front, then moved past her and yanked her rifle from the scabbard.
"Now you can get on."
Hoofbeats pounded toward them, and Jace turned to look.
"Great. Hank Willet and his two henchmen. Just what I need."
The lead man astride a dappled horse reined to a stop in front of them and gave Bobbie the once-over. Long gray hair sprawled from under his fine black hat, and his leathery face showed the number of winters spent in the brutal mountain wind. He leaned his forearms on the horn of his fancy saddle as if he had all day.
"Kincaid."
Jace pulled his gloves from his coat pocket. "What can I do for you, Hank?"
Hank bumped his hat up with his thumb, and a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "Heard some gunshots. Thought you might need help. I always figured a ranch like this was too much for a boy."
Jace smacked his gloves against his thigh. "I've been doing just fine without you, Hank."
"That's not what I've heard. At the rate your herd is dropping, you'll be out of the cattle business by summer."
"They aren't dropping from lack of care. Someone's been stealing them."
One corner of Hank's mouth pulled back in a sneer. "Call it what you want, boy. The fact remains that you're in over your head." Hank eyed the rope on Bobbie's wrists. "Who's your friend?"
"She's not a friend."
"Obviously. Having trouble with your women now?" Hank snorted and slapped his leg. "You sure know how to pick 'em." He tipped his hat. "I'll leave you boys to your fun."
He nudged his mount into a gallop and departed with the two other men the way he came.
The scowl on Jace's face deepened with the glare he pinned on her. He grasped her arm and led her toward Mack. Before she could climb onto the saddle, he spun her around to face him.
"I've got to admit that you don't fit the type of person I figure could be callous enough to steal another man's cattle." He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes as he leaned toward her. "But sometimes it's the innocent-looking people who need watching the most. So I have to ask, just what's your business here?"
"I have a note for you."
"Is that right?" He took a step closer. "Let's see it."
"It's in my coat pocket." With a nod of her head, she indicated the pocket on the right side of her jacket.
Jace reached carefully into her pocket and found the piece of paper, which he took out, unfolded, and began to read. While he read, she watched his face. His eyes widened as they traced the lines scrawled over the page and then narrowed when he glanced up.
"You're Bobbie McIntyre?
She licked her dry lips. "Yes."
"From Roy Simms's ranch?"
"Uh-huh."
His gaze hardened.
"Is that a problem?"
The muscles along his jaw jumped like a horse with a burr under its saddle. He crushed the letter in his fist and shook his head. "You bet there's a problem. I was expecting a man."
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Beginning in 1998, Janelle Mowery coordinated and wrote for the Children's Ministry of a Christian website called The Invisible Connection. When the holder of that site discontinued the ministry and website in the year 2000, she began writing inspirational fiction romance novels.
Janelle became a member of American Christian Fiction Writers in the year 2002 and is an active member and leader in one of their critique groups, which has provided many opportunities for growth and development. In 2003, she entered her first novel in the Noble Theme contest and was named one of the top ten finalists in the historical category. In 2004, she had a short story titled 'A Fair Chance' published in the e-magazine, Romancing the Christian Heart. In 2005, her third novel, entered in the San Gabriel Writers' League 'Writing Smarter' Contest, won first place. Also, Janelle's fifth novel made it to the top ten finalists in the Noble Theme contest.
In 2006, she signed her first contract with Barbour Publishing in their Heartsong Presents Mysteries line. The novel, Where the Truth Lies, which she co-authored with Elizabeth Ludwig, released in spring of 2008. The second and third mysteries of the series, Died in the Wool and A Black Die Affair, is set for release in 2011.
Janelle has signed with Harvest House for a historical series set in Colorado. Release of the first book is set for early 2011. She has also signed with Summerside Press. Her novel, Love Finds You in Silver City, Idaho, released in October 2010.
Janelle has been married twenty-one years and is the mother of two sons. She is a member of Sandy Point Bible Church and serves as Treasurer. She also assists in the church's teen program.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Bobbie McIntyre dreams of running a ranch of her own. Raised without a mother and having spent most of her time around men, she knows more about wrangling than acting like a lady. The friendship of her new employer awakens a desire to learn more about presenting her feminine side, but ranch life keeps getting in the way. Ranch owner Jace Kincaid figures the Lord is testing his faith when a female wrangler shows up looking for work. Bobbie has an uncanny way of getting under his skin, though, and he's surprised when she finds a home next to his heart. But when his cattle begin to go missing and his wranglers are in danger from some low-down cattle thief, can Jace trust God, even if it may mean giving up on his dreams?
An adventurous novel of faith, hope, and love in the Wild West.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Chapter 1
Colorado Territory 1872
I'll be dead in a minute. Maybe less.
Bobbie McIntyre spurred her horse. "Faster, Mack. Hurry." She peeked over her shoulder, saw the man's gun poised at her back. Her heart thudded harder than the beat of Mack's hooves.
"Go, Mack!" The wind swallowed her plea.
The bandit was gaining ground fast. She leaned lower over the saddle. The cold mountain air blurred her vision and whistled past her ears. Mack's chest heaved and sweat streamed down his neck. He stumbled, then righted again.
She veered left toward the boulders, pulled her pistol from her holster, then turned in the saddle and aimed.
Something slammed into her back. Her gun blasted before it slipped from her grasp. She hit the ground, knocking the breath from her. A heavy weight pressed her down, then rolled off her. She lay dazed.
What happened?
The click of a gun hammer set fire to panic. She scooped up a fistful of soil and stones, pushed to her knees…and stared into the steel barrel of a pistol. The dirt in her hand trickled through her fingers to the ground.
She peered around for her own gun and faced another barrel. Two men. At least that answered her question of what threw her from the saddle. The second man must've been hiding behind the boulder she'd planned to use for protection. She stilled while her mind scrambled for a way out of her mess.
The tall, scruffy man grinned. "Well, looky here, Jace. We chased a man and caught us a gal."
Jace? Could this be Jace Kincaid?
The man named Jace shook his head. "Doesn't matter. An outlaw is an outlaw be it male or female."
The tall man snorted. "Outlaw? This slip of a woman?"
"Well, look at her. She's sure not dressed like a girl."
Bobbie grabbed her hat out of the dirt, resisting the urge to fling it at Jace, and shoved it on her head as she stood. "I don't know who you expected to find, but I ain't her. And I sure ain't no outlaw."
The tremor in her voice didn't make her sound as ominous and convincing as she'd hoped.
"Get her horse, Grant," Jace said. "Let's head on back."
"So we're not gonna hang her?"
Bobbie felt the blood drain from her face. "Hang? For what? Look, I'm—"
Jace swung his pistol toward her again. "Stay quiet, miss. You're already in trouble for prowling around on land that isn't yours."
"This is the Double K, ain't it?"
He scratched his forehead with his thumb. "Yes."
"And you're Jace Kincaid?"
Jace squinted and cocked his head. "Right again. But then, I'd expect you'd know that, what with all you've been up to."
"I ain't been up to nothing." She glared at him, brushing dirt and dead grass from her coat sleeves.
Jace took a deep breath and stood straighter, making him appear even more threatening. By the look of him, he could wrestle a steer and lasso a calf at the same time.
"Why'd you chase me, anyway?" she said. "I wasn't prowling. I was on my way to meet you."
"Likely story." He motioned to the horses. "Mount up. The next man you meet will be the sheriff."
Bobbie scowled and took several angry breaths through her nose. "Fine. Maybe he'll listen to me."
Grant lifted the strap on her saddlebags.
"Hold on there, that's private," Bobbie said.
He smirked. "Not anymore."
A gun barrel to her back kept her from taking more than a step. She raised her arms. "Those are my things."
Jace moved beside her. "Leave it be, Grant."
"I only plan to look."
"I said quit."
The tone of Jace's voice would've halted a stampede. Grant stepped back, hands poised in surrender, though a trace of a smile still pulled at his lips.
"Let's mount up," Jace said.
Bobbie looked around for her pistol, and Jace pushed the barrel into her back. "Get moving."
"I want my gun."
Grant pulled it from his waistband and handed it to Jace. "You mean this?"
Jace holstered his pistol and then pointed her gun at her nose. "Mount up."
She headed toward Mack.
"Hold it."
Jace's growl halted her in her tracks. He tucked her gun into his belt, jerked a piece of rope from his saddle, and tied her hands in front, then moved past her and yanked her rifle from the scabbard.
"Now you can get on."
Hoofbeats pounded toward them, and Jace turned to look.
"Great. Hank Willet and his two henchmen. Just what I need."
The lead man astride a dappled horse reined to a stop in front of them and gave Bobbie the once-over. Long gray hair sprawled from under his fine black hat, and his leathery face showed the number of winters spent in the brutal mountain wind. He leaned his forearms on the horn of his fancy saddle as if he had all day.
"Kincaid."
Jace pulled his gloves from his coat pocket. "What can I do for you, Hank?"
Hank bumped his hat up with his thumb, and a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "Heard some gunshots. Thought you might need help. I always figured a ranch like this was too much for a boy."
Jace smacked his gloves against his thigh. "I've been doing just fine without you, Hank."
"That's not what I've heard. At the rate your herd is dropping, you'll be out of the cattle business by summer."
"They aren't dropping from lack of care. Someone's been stealing them."
One corner of Hank's mouth pulled back in a sneer. "Call it what you want, boy. The fact remains that you're in over your head." Hank eyed the rope on Bobbie's wrists. "Who's your friend?"
"She's not a friend."
"Obviously. Having trouble with your women now?" Hank snorted and slapped his leg. "You sure know how to pick 'em." He tipped his hat. "I'll leave you boys to your fun."
He nudged his mount into a gallop and departed with the two other men the way he came.
The scowl on Jace's face deepened with the glare he pinned on her. He grasped her arm and led her toward Mack. Before she could climb onto the saddle, he spun her around to face him.
"I've got to admit that you don't fit the type of person I figure could be callous enough to steal another man's cattle." He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes as he leaned toward her. "But sometimes it's the innocent-looking people who need watching the most. So I have to ask, just what's your business here?"
"I have a note for you."
"Is that right?" He took a step closer. "Let's see it."
"It's in my coat pocket." With a nod of her head, she indicated the pocket on the right side of her jacket.
Jace reached carefully into her pocket and found the piece of paper, which he took out, unfolded, and began to read. While he read, she watched his face. His eyes widened as they traced the lines scrawled over the page and then narrowed when he glanced up.
"You're Bobbie McIntyre?
She licked her dry lips. "Yes."
"From Roy Simms's ranch?"
"Uh-huh."
His gaze hardened.
"Is that a problem?"
The muscles along his jaw jumped like a horse with a burr under its saddle. He crushed the letter in his fist and shook his head. "You bet there's a problem. I was expecting a man."
February 25, 2011
Street Team Book List excerpt - A BILLION REASONS WHY by Kristin Billerbeck
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!
Today's Wild Card author is:
Kristin Billerbeck
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Kristin Billerbeck was born in California to an Italian father and a strong Norwegian/German mother. Her mother tried to teach her to do things right, how to cook, clean, sew, and budget accordingly—all the things a proper girl should know in order to be a contributing member of society. Yet Billerbeck said she "failed miserably," although her grandmother must still hold some hope since she gave her a cookie gun for her 40th birthday.
Billerbeck has authored more than 30 novels, including the Ashley Stockingdale series and the Spa Girls series. She is a leader in the Chick Lit movement, a Christy Award finalist, and a two-time winner of the American Christian Fiction Writers Book of the Year Award. She has appeared on The Today Show and has been featured in the New York Times. She lives with her family in northern California.
Visit the author's website.
SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:
There are a billion reasons Kate should marry her current boyfriend.
Will she trade them all to be madly in love?
Katie McKenna leads a perfect life. Or so she thinks. She has a fulfilling job, a cute apartment, and a wedding to plan with her soon-to-be fiance, Dexter.
She can think of a billion reasons why she should marry Dexter…but nowhere on that list is love.
And then in walks Luc DeForges, her bold, breathtaking ex-boyfriend. Only now he's a millionaire. And he wants her to go home to New Orleans to sing for her childhood friend's wedding. As his date.
But Katie made up her mind about Luc eight years ago, when she fled their hometown after a very public breakup. Yet there's a magnetism between them she can't deny.
Katie thought her predictable relationship with Dexter would be the bedrock of a lasting, Christian marriage. But what if there's more? What if God's desire for her is a heart full of life? And what if that's what Luc has offered all along?
Product Details:
List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Thomas Nelson; Original edition (February 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1595547916
ISBN-13: 978-1595547910
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
A Fine Romance
Katie McKenna had dreamed of this moment at least a thousand times. Luc would walk back into her life filled with remorse. He'd be wearing jeans, a worn T-shirt, and humility. He'd be dripping with humility.
That should have been her first clue that such a scenario had no bearing on reality.
"Katie," a voice said.
The sound sent a surge of adrenaline through her frame. She'd forgotten the power and the warmth of his baritone. A quick glance around her classroom assured her that she must be imagining things. Everything was in order: the posters of colorful curriculum, the daily schedule of activities printed on the whiteboard, and, of course, the children. All six of them were mentally disabled, most of them on the severe side of the autism spectrum, but three had added handicaps that required sturdy, head-stabilizing wheelchairs. The bulk of the chairs overwhelmed the room and blocked much of the happy yellow walls and part of the large rainbow mural the kids had helped to paint. The room, with its cluttered order, comforted her and reminded her of all she'd accomplished. There was no need to think about the past. That was a waste of time and energy.
Her eyes stopped on her aides, Carrie and Selena. The two women, so boisterous in personality, were usually animated. But at the moment they stood huddled in the corner behind Austin's wheelchair.
Carrie, the heavyset one in the Ed Hardy T-shirt, motioned at her.
"What?" Katie pulled at her white shirt with the delicate pink flowers embroidered along the hem and surveyed the stains. "I know, I'm a mess. But did you see how wonderfully the kids did on their art projects? It was worth it. Never thought of the oil on the dough staining. Next time I'll wear an apron."
Selena and Carrie looked as though there was something more they wanted.
"Maddie, you're a born artist." Katie smiled at the little girl sitting behind a mound of colorful clay. Then to the aides: "What is the matter with you two?"
Selena, a slight Latina woman, shook her head and pointed toward the door.
Katie rotated toward the front of the classroom and caught her breath. Luc, so tall and gorgeous, completely out of place in his fine European suit and a wristwatch probably worth more than her annual salary, stood in the doorway. He wore a fedora, his trademark since college, but hardly one he needed to stand out in a crowd.
As she stared across the space between them, suddenly the classroom she took such pride in appeared shabby and soiled. When she inhaled, it reeked of sour milk and baby food. Her muddled brain searched for words.
"Luc?" She blinked several times, as if his film-star good looks might evaporate into the annals of her mind. "What are you doing here?"
"Didn't you get my brother's wedding invitation?" he asked coolly, as if they'd only seen each other yesterday.
"I did. I sent my regrets."
"That's what I'm doing here. You can't miss Ryan's wedding. I thought the problem might be money."
She watched as his blue eyes came to rest on her stained shirt. Instinctively she crossed her arms in front of her.
"I came to invite you to go back with me next week, on my plane."
"Ah." She nodded and waited for something intelligible to come out of her mouth. "It's not money."
"Come home with me, Katie." He reached out his arms, and she moved to the countertop and shuffled some papers together.
If he touches me, I don't stand a chance. She knew Luc well enough to know if he'd made the trip to her classroom, he didn't intend to leave without what he came for. "I'm afraid that's not possible." She stacked the same papers again.
"Give me one reason."
She faced him. "I could give you a billion reasons."
Luc's chiseled features didn't wear humility well. The cross-shaped scar beneath his cheekbone added to his severity. If he weren't so dreaded handsome, he'd make a good spy in a Bond movie. His looks belied his soft Uptown New Orleans upbringing, the kind filled with celebrations and warm family events with backyard tennis and long days in the swimming pool.
He pushed through the swiveled half door that separated them and strode toward her.
"That gate is there for a reason. The classroom is for teachers and students only."
Luc opened his hand and beckoned to her, and despite herself, she took it. Her heart pounded in her throat, and its roar was so thunderous it blocked her thoughts. He pulled her into a clutch, then pushed her away with all the grace of Astaire. "Will you dance with me?" he asked.
He began to hum a Cole Porter tune clumsily in her ear, and instinctively she followed his lead until everything around them disappeared and they were alone in their personal ballroom. For a moment she dropped her head back and giggled from her stomach; a laugh so genuine and pure, it seemed completely foreign—as if it came from a place within that was no longer a part of her. Then the dance halted suddenly, and his cheek was against hers. She took in the roughness of his face, and the thought flitted through her mind that she could die a happy woman in those arms.
The sound of applause woke her from her reverie.
"You two are amazing!" Carrie said.
The children all murmured their approval, some with screams of delight and others with loud banging.
Luc's hand clutched her own in the small space between them, and she laughed again.
"Not me," Luc said. "I have the grace of a bull. It's Katie. She's like Ginger Rogers. She makes anybody she dances with look good." He appealed to the two aides. "Which is why I'm here. She must go to my brother's wedding with me."
"I didn't even know you danced, Katie," Selena said. "Why don't you ever come dancing with us on Friday nights?"
"What? Katie dances like a dream. She and my brother were partners onstage in college. They were like a mist, the way they moved together. It's like her feet don't touch the ground."
"That was a long time ago." She pulled away from him and showed him her shirt. "I'm a mess. I hope I didn't ruin your suit."
"It would be worth it," Luc growled.
"Katie, where'd you learn to dance like that?" Carrie asked.
"Too many old movies, I suppose." She shrugged.
"You could be on Dancing with the Stars with moves like that."
"Except I'm not a star or a dancer, but other than that, I guess—" She giggled again. It kept bubbling out of her, and for one blissful moment she remembered what it felt like to be the old Katie McKenna. Not the current version, staid schoolmarm and church soloist in Northern California, but the Katie people in New Orleans knew, the one who danced and sang.
Luc interrupted her thoughts. "She's being modest. She learned those moves from Ginger and Fred themselves, just by watching them over and over again. This was before YouTube, so she was dedicated."
Katie shrugged. "I was a weird kid. Only child, you know?" But inside she swelled with pride that Luc remembered her devotion to a craft so woefully out-of-date and useless. "Anyway, I don't have much use for swing dancing or forties torch songs now. Luc, meet Carrie and Selena. Carrie and Selena, Luc."
"I don't have any 'use' for salsa dancing," Selena said. "I do it because it's part of who I am."
"Tell her she has to come with me, ladies. My brother is having a 1940s-themed wedding in New Orleans. He'd be crushed if Katie didn't come, and I'll look like a hopeless clod without her to dance with."
Katie watched the two aides. She saw the way Luc's powerful presence intoxicated them. Were they really naive enough to believe that Luc DeForges could ever appear like a clod, in any circumstance or setting? Luc, with his skilled charm and roguish good looks, made one believe whatever he wanted one to believe. The two women were putty in his hands.
"Katie, you have to go to this wedding!" Selena stepped toward her. "I can't believe you can dance like that and never told us. You'd let this opportunity slip by? For what?" She looked around the room and frowned. "This place?"
The cacophony of pounding and low groans rose audibly, as if in agreement.
"This may be just a classroom to you, but to me, it's the hope and future of these kids. I used to dance. I used to sing. It paid my way through college. Now I'm a teacher."
"You can't be a teacher and a dancer?" Selena pressed. "It's like walking and chewing gum. You can do both. The question is, why don't you?"
"Maybe I should bring more music and dancing into the classroom. Look how the kids are joining in the noise of our voices, not bothered by it. I have to think about ways we could make the most of this."
But she hadn't succeeded in changing the subject; everyone's attention stayed focused on her.
"You should dance for the kids, Katie. You possess all the grace of an artist's muse. Who knows how you might encourage them?"
Katie laughed. "That's laying it on a bit thick, Luc, even for you. I do believe if there was a snake in that basket over there, it would be rising to the charmer's voice at this very minute."
Luc's very presence brought her into another time. Maybe it was the fedora or the classic cut of his suit, but it ran deeper than how he looked. He possessed a sense of virility and take-no-prisoners attitude that couldn't be further from his blue-blood upbringing. He made her, in a word, feel safe . . . but there was nothing safe about Luc and there never had been. She straightened and walked over to her open folder to check her schedule for the day.
Tapping a pencil on the binder, she focused on getting the day back on track. The students were involved in free playtime at the moment. While they were all situated in a circle, they played individually, their own favorite tasks in front of them.
"Carrie, would you get Austin and Maddie ready for lunch?"
"I'll do it," Selena said. "And, Katie . . . you really should go to the wedding."
"I can't go to the wedding because it's right in the middle of summer school."
"You could get a substitute," Carrie said. "What would you be gone for, a week at most? Jenna could probably fill in. She took the summer off this year."
"Thanks for the suggestions, ladies," Katie said through clenched teeth. "But I've already told the groom I can't attend the wedding for professional reasons."
The women laughed. "I'm sorry, what reasons?" Carrie asked, raising a bedpan to imply that anyone could do Katie's job.
It was no use. The two women were thoroughly under Luc's spell, and who could blame them?
"Maybe we should talk privately," Luc said. He clasped her wrist and led her to the glass doors at the front of the classroom. "It's beautiful out here. The way you're nestled in the hills, you'd never know there's a city nearby."
She nodded. "That's Crystal Springs Reservoir on the other side of the freeway. It's protected property, the drinking water for this entire area, so it's stayed pristine."
"I'm not going back to New Orleans without you," he said.
Apparently the small talk had ended.
"My mother would have a fit if I brought one of the women I'd take to a Hollywood event to a family wedding."
Katie felt a twinge of jealousy, then a stab of anger for her own weakness. Of course he dated beautiful women. He was a billionaire. A billionaire who looked like Luc DeForges! Granted, he was actually a multimillionaire, but it had been a long-standing joke between the two of them. Did it matter, once you made your first ten million, how much came after that? He may as well be called a gazillionaire. His finances were too foreign for her to contemplate.
"And who you date is my problem, how?"
"If my date tries to swing dance and kicks one of my mother's friends in the teeth, I'll be disinherited."
"So what, would that make you the fifth richest man in the United States, instead of the fourth?"
"Katie, how many times do I have to explain to you I'm nowhere near those kinds of numbers?" He grinned. "Yet." He touched his finger to her nose lightly. "My fate is much worse than losing status if you don't come. My mother might set me up to ensure I have a proper date. A chorus line of Southern belles. And I guarantee you at least one will have the proverbial glass slipper and think her idea is so utterly unique, I'll succumb to the fantasy."
"Wow! What a terrible life you must lead." She pulled a Keds slide from her foot and emptied sand out of her shoe. A few grains landed on Luc's shiny black loafer. "To think, with courtship skills like that, that any woman wouldn't be swept off her feet—it's unfathomable." She patted his arm. "I wish you luck, Luc. I'm sure your mother will have some very nice choices for you, so go enjoy yourself. Perk up, there're billions
more to be made when you get back."
"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Katie."
e was right, but she didn't trust herself around him. She'd taken leave of her senses too many times in that weakened state. Since moving to California, she'd made it her goal to live life logically and for the Lord. She hadn't fallen victim to her emotions since leaving New Orleans, and she'd invested too much to give into them now.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I only meant that I'm sure there are other nice girls willing to go home and pretend for your mother. I've already done that, only you forgot to tell me we were pretending. Remember?"
He flinched. "Below the belt."
A pencil fell from behind her ear, and she stooped to pick it up, careful not to meet his glance as she rose. "I'm sorry, but I'm busy here. Maybe we could catch up another time? I'd like that and won't be so sidetracked." She looked across the room toward Austin, an angelic but severely autistic child in a wheelchair. He pounded against his tray. "The kids are getting hungry. It's lunchtime." She pointed to the schedule.
Luc scooped a hand under her chin and forced her to look at him. "Where else am I going to find a gorgeous redhead who knows who Glenn Miller is?"
"Don't, Luc. Don't charm me. It's beneath you. Buy one of your bubble-headed blondes a box of dye and send her to iTunes to do research. Problem solved."
He didn't let go. "Ryan wants you to sing at the wedding, Katie. He sent me personally to make sure you'd be there and sing 'Someone to Watch Over Me.' I'm not a man who quits because something's difficult."
"Anyone worth her salt on Bourbon Street can sing that. Excuse me—"
"Katie-bug."
"Luc, I asked you kindly. Don't. I'm not one of your sophisticated girls who knows how to play games. I'm not going to the wedding. That part of my life is over."
"That part of your life? What about that part of you? Where is she?"
She ignored his question. "I cannot be the only woman you know capable of being your date. You're not familiar with anyone else who isn't an actress-slash-waitress?" She cupped his hand in her own and allowed herself to experience the surge of energy. "I have to go." She dropped his hands and pushed back through the half door. "I'm sure you have a meeting to get to. Am I right?"
"It's true," he admitted. "I had business in San Francisco today, a merger. We bought a small chain of health food stores to expand the brand. But I was planning the trip to see you anyway and ask you personally."
"Uh-huh."
"We'll be doing specialty outlets in smaller locations where real estate prices are too high for a full grocery outlet. Having the natural concept already in these locations makes my job that much easier."
"To take over the free world with organics, you mean?"
That made him smile, and she warmed at the sparkle in his eye. When Luc was in his element, there was nothing like it. His excitement was contagious and spread like a classroom virus, infecting those around him with a false sense of security. She inhaled deeply and reminded herself that the man sold inspiration by the pound. His power over her was universal. It did not make her special.
"Name your price," he said. "I'm here to end this rift between us, whatever it is, and I'll do the time. Tell me what it is you want."
"There is no price, Luc. I don't want anything from you. I'm not going to Ryan's wedding. My life is here."
"Day and night . . . night and day," he crooned and then his voice was beside her ear. "One last swing dance at my brother's wedding. One last song and I'll leave you alone. I promise."
She crossed the room to the sink against the far wall, but she felt him follow. She hated how he could make every nerve in her body come to life, while he seemingly felt nothing in return. She closed her eyes and searched for inner strength. He didn't want me. Not in a way that mattered. He wanted her when it suited him to have her at his side.
"Even if I were able to get the time off work, Luc, it wouldn't be right to go to your brother's wedding as your date. I'm about to get engaged."
"Engaged?" He stepped away.
She squeezed hand sanitizer onto her hands and rubbed thoroughly.
"I'll give a call to your fiancé and let him know the benefits." He pulled a small leather pad of paper from his coat pocket. "I'll arrange everything. You get a free trip home, I get a Christian date my mother is proud to know, and then your life goes back to normal. Everyone's happy." He took off his fedora as though to plead his case in true gentlemanly fashion. "My mother is still very proud to have led you from
your . . ." He choked back a word. "From your previous life and to Jesus."
The announcement of her engagement seemed to have had little effect on Luc, and Katie felt as if her heart shattered all over again. "My previous life was you. She was proud to lead me away from her son's life." She leaned on the countertop, trying to remember why she'd come to the kitchen area.
"You know what I meant."
"I wasn't exactly a streetwalker, Luc. I was a late-night bar singer in the Central District, and the only one who ever led my reputation into question was you. So I'm failing to see the mutual benefit here. Your mother. Your date. And I get a free trip to a place I worked my tail off to get out of."
She struggled with a giant jar of applesauce, which Luc took from her and opened easily. He passed the jar back to her and let his fingers brush hers.
"My mother would be out of her head to see you. And the entire town could see what they lost when they let their prettiest belle go. Come help me remind them. Don't you want to show them that you're thriving? That you didn't curl up and die after that awful night?"
"I really don't need to prove anything, Luc." She pulled her apron, with its child-size handprints in primary colors, over her head. "I'm not your fallback, and I really don't care if people continue to see me that way. They don't know me."
"Which you? The one who lives a colorless existence and calls it holy? Or the one who danced on air and inspired an entire theater troupe to rediscover swing and raise money for a new stage?" Luc bent down, took her out at the knees, and hoisted her up over his shoulder.
"What are you doing? Do you think you're Tarzan? Put me down." She pounded on his back, and she could hear the chaos he'd created in the classroom. "These kids need structure. What do you think you're doing? I demand you put me down!"
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:
Kristin Billerbeck
and the book:
Thomas Nelson; Original edition (February 1, 2011)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Kristin Billerbeck was born in California to an Italian father and a strong Norwegian/German mother. Her mother tried to teach her to do things right, how to cook, clean, sew, and budget accordingly—all the things a proper girl should know in order to be a contributing member of society. Yet Billerbeck said she "failed miserably," although her grandmother must still hold some hope since she gave her a cookie gun for her 40th birthday.
Billerbeck has authored more than 30 novels, including the Ashley Stockingdale series and the Spa Girls series. She is a leader in the Chick Lit movement, a Christy Award finalist, and a two-time winner of the American Christian Fiction Writers Book of the Year Award. She has appeared on The Today Show and has been featured in the New York Times. She lives with her family in northern California.
Visit the author's website.
SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:
There are a billion reasons Kate should marry her current boyfriend.Will she trade them all to be madly in love?
Katie McKenna leads a perfect life. Or so she thinks. She has a fulfilling job, a cute apartment, and a wedding to plan with her soon-to-be fiance, Dexter.
She can think of a billion reasons why she should marry Dexter…but nowhere on that list is love.
And then in walks Luc DeForges, her bold, breathtaking ex-boyfriend. Only now he's a millionaire. And he wants her to go home to New Orleans to sing for her childhood friend's wedding. As his date.
But Katie made up her mind about Luc eight years ago, when she fled their hometown after a very public breakup. Yet there's a magnetism between them she can't deny.
Katie thought her predictable relationship with Dexter would be the bedrock of a lasting, Christian marriage. But what if there's more? What if God's desire for her is a heart full of life? And what if that's what Luc has offered all along?
Product Details:
List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Thomas Nelson; Original edition (February 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1595547916
ISBN-13: 978-1595547910
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
A Fine Romance
Katie McKenna had dreamed of this moment at least a thousand times. Luc would walk back into her life filled with remorse. He'd be wearing jeans, a worn T-shirt, and humility. He'd be dripping with humility.
That should have been her first clue that such a scenario had no bearing on reality.
"Katie," a voice said.
The sound sent a surge of adrenaline through her frame. She'd forgotten the power and the warmth of his baritone. A quick glance around her classroom assured her that she must be imagining things. Everything was in order: the posters of colorful curriculum, the daily schedule of activities printed on the whiteboard, and, of course, the children. All six of them were mentally disabled, most of them on the severe side of the autism spectrum, but three had added handicaps that required sturdy, head-stabilizing wheelchairs. The bulk of the chairs overwhelmed the room and blocked much of the happy yellow walls and part of the large rainbow mural the kids had helped to paint. The room, with its cluttered order, comforted her and reminded her of all she'd accomplished. There was no need to think about the past. That was a waste of time and energy.
Her eyes stopped on her aides, Carrie and Selena. The two women, so boisterous in personality, were usually animated. But at the moment they stood huddled in the corner behind Austin's wheelchair.
Carrie, the heavyset one in the Ed Hardy T-shirt, motioned at her.
"What?" Katie pulled at her white shirt with the delicate pink flowers embroidered along the hem and surveyed the stains. "I know, I'm a mess. But did you see how wonderfully the kids did on their art projects? It was worth it. Never thought of the oil on the dough staining. Next time I'll wear an apron."
Selena and Carrie looked as though there was something more they wanted.
"Maddie, you're a born artist." Katie smiled at the little girl sitting behind a mound of colorful clay. Then to the aides: "What is the matter with you two?"
Selena, a slight Latina woman, shook her head and pointed toward the door.
Katie rotated toward the front of the classroom and caught her breath. Luc, so tall and gorgeous, completely out of place in his fine European suit and a wristwatch probably worth more than her annual salary, stood in the doorway. He wore a fedora, his trademark since college, but hardly one he needed to stand out in a crowd.
As she stared across the space between them, suddenly the classroom she took such pride in appeared shabby and soiled. When she inhaled, it reeked of sour milk and baby food. Her muddled brain searched for words.
"Luc?" She blinked several times, as if his film-star good looks might evaporate into the annals of her mind. "What are you doing here?"
"Didn't you get my brother's wedding invitation?" he asked coolly, as if they'd only seen each other yesterday.
"I did. I sent my regrets."
"That's what I'm doing here. You can't miss Ryan's wedding. I thought the problem might be money."
She watched as his blue eyes came to rest on her stained shirt. Instinctively she crossed her arms in front of her.
"I came to invite you to go back with me next week, on my plane."
"Ah." She nodded and waited for something intelligible to come out of her mouth. "It's not money."
"Come home with me, Katie." He reached out his arms, and she moved to the countertop and shuffled some papers together.
If he touches me, I don't stand a chance. She knew Luc well enough to know if he'd made the trip to her classroom, he didn't intend to leave without what he came for. "I'm afraid that's not possible." She stacked the same papers again.
"Give me one reason."
She faced him. "I could give you a billion reasons."
Luc's chiseled features didn't wear humility well. The cross-shaped scar beneath his cheekbone added to his severity. If he weren't so dreaded handsome, he'd make a good spy in a Bond movie. His looks belied his soft Uptown New Orleans upbringing, the kind filled with celebrations and warm family events with backyard tennis and long days in the swimming pool.
He pushed through the swiveled half door that separated them and strode toward her.
"That gate is there for a reason. The classroom is for teachers and students only."
Luc opened his hand and beckoned to her, and despite herself, she took it. Her heart pounded in her throat, and its roar was so thunderous it blocked her thoughts. He pulled her into a clutch, then pushed her away with all the grace of Astaire. "Will you dance with me?" he asked.
He began to hum a Cole Porter tune clumsily in her ear, and instinctively she followed his lead until everything around them disappeared and they were alone in their personal ballroom. For a moment she dropped her head back and giggled from her stomach; a laugh so genuine and pure, it seemed completely foreign—as if it came from a place within that was no longer a part of her. Then the dance halted suddenly, and his cheek was against hers. She took in the roughness of his face, and the thought flitted through her mind that she could die a happy woman in those arms.
The sound of applause woke her from her reverie.
"You two are amazing!" Carrie said.
The children all murmured their approval, some with screams of delight and others with loud banging.
Luc's hand clutched her own in the small space between them, and she laughed again.
"Not me," Luc said. "I have the grace of a bull. It's Katie. She's like Ginger Rogers. She makes anybody she dances with look good." He appealed to the two aides. "Which is why I'm here. She must go to my brother's wedding with me."
"I didn't even know you danced, Katie," Selena said. "Why don't you ever come dancing with us on Friday nights?"
"What? Katie dances like a dream. She and my brother were partners onstage in college. They were like a mist, the way they moved together. It's like her feet don't touch the ground."
"That was a long time ago." She pulled away from him and showed him her shirt. "I'm a mess. I hope I didn't ruin your suit."
"It would be worth it," Luc growled.
"Katie, where'd you learn to dance like that?" Carrie asked.
"Too many old movies, I suppose." She shrugged.
"You could be on Dancing with the Stars with moves like that."
"Except I'm not a star or a dancer, but other than that, I guess—" She giggled again. It kept bubbling out of her, and for one blissful moment she remembered what it felt like to be the old Katie McKenna. Not the current version, staid schoolmarm and church soloist in Northern California, but the Katie people in New Orleans knew, the one who danced and sang.
Luc interrupted her thoughts. "She's being modest. She learned those moves from Ginger and Fred themselves, just by watching them over and over again. This was before YouTube, so she was dedicated."
Katie shrugged. "I was a weird kid. Only child, you know?" But inside she swelled with pride that Luc remembered her devotion to a craft so woefully out-of-date and useless. "Anyway, I don't have much use for swing dancing or forties torch songs now. Luc, meet Carrie and Selena. Carrie and Selena, Luc."
"I don't have any 'use' for salsa dancing," Selena said. "I do it because it's part of who I am."
"Tell her she has to come with me, ladies. My brother is having a 1940s-themed wedding in New Orleans. He'd be crushed if Katie didn't come, and I'll look like a hopeless clod without her to dance with."
Katie watched the two aides. She saw the way Luc's powerful presence intoxicated them. Were they really naive enough to believe that Luc DeForges could ever appear like a clod, in any circumstance or setting? Luc, with his skilled charm and roguish good looks, made one believe whatever he wanted one to believe. The two women were putty in his hands.
"Katie, you have to go to this wedding!" Selena stepped toward her. "I can't believe you can dance like that and never told us. You'd let this opportunity slip by? For what?" She looked around the room and frowned. "This place?"
The cacophony of pounding and low groans rose audibly, as if in agreement.
"This may be just a classroom to you, but to me, it's the hope and future of these kids. I used to dance. I used to sing. It paid my way through college. Now I'm a teacher."
"You can't be a teacher and a dancer?" Selena pressed. "It's like walking and chewing gum. You can do both. The question is, why don't you?"
"Maybe I should bring more music and dancing into the classroom. Look how the kids are joining in the noise of our voices, not bothered by it. I have to think about ways we could make the most of this."
But she hadn't succeeded in changing the subject; everyone's attention stayed focused on her.
"You should dance for the kids, Katie. You possess all the grace of an artist's muse. Who knows how you might encourage them?"
Katie laughed. "That's laying it on a bit thick, Luc, even for you. I do believe if there was a snake in that basket over there, it would be rising to the charmer's voice at this very minute."
Luc's very presence brought her into another time. Maybe it was the fedora or the classic cut of his suit, but it ran deeper than how he looked. He possessed a sense of virility and take-no-prisoners attitude that couldn't be further from his blue-blood upbringing. He made her, in a word, feel safe . . . but there was nothing safe about Luc and there never had been. She straightened and walked over to her open folder to check her schedule for the day.
Tapping a pencil on the binder, she focused on getting the day back on track. The students were involved in free playtime at the moment. While they were all situated in a circle, they played individually, their own favorite tasks in front of them.
"Carrie, would you get Austin and Maddie ready for lunch?"
"I'll do it," Selena said. "And, Katie . . . you really should go to the wedding."
"I can't go to the wedding because it's right in the middle of summer school."
"You could get a substitute," Carrie said. "What would you be gone for, a week at most? Jenna could probably fill in. She took the summer off this year."
"Thanks for the suggestions, ladies," Katie said through clenched teeth. "But I've already told the groom I can't attend the wedding for professional reasons."
The women laughed. "I'm sorry, what reasons?" Carrie asked, raising a bedpan to imply that anyone could do Katie's job.
It was no use. The two women were thoroughly under Luc's spell, and who could blame them?
"Maybe we should talk privately," Luc said. He clasped her wrist and led her to the glass doors at the front of the classroom. "It's beautiful out here. The way you're nestled in the hills, you'd never know there's a city nearby."
She nodded. "That's Crystal Springs Reservoir on the other side of the freeway. It's protected property, the drinking water for this entire area, so it's stayed pristine."
"I'm not going back to New Orleans without you," he said.
Apparently the small talk had ended.
"My mother would have a fit if I brought one of the women I'd take to a Hollywood event to a family wedding."
Katie felt a twinge of jealousy, then a stab of anger for her own weakness. Of course he dated beautiful women. He was a billionaire. A billionaire who looked like Luc DeForges! Granted, he was actually a multimillionaire, but it had been a long-standing joke between the two of them. Did it matter, once you made your first ten million, how much came after that? He may as well be called a gazillionaire. His finances were too foreign for her to contemplate.
"And who you date is my problem, how?"
"If my date tries to swing dance and kicks one of my mother's friends in the teeth, I'll be disinherited."
"So what, would that make you the fifth richest man in the United States, instead of the fourth?"
"Katie, how many times do I have to explain to you I'm nowhere near those kinds of numbers?" He grinned. "Yet." He touched his finger to her nose lightly. "My fate is much worse than losing status if you don't come. My mother might set me up to ensure I have a proper date. A chorus line of Southern belles. And I guarantee you at least one will have the proverbial glass slipper and think her idea is so utterly unique, I'll succumb to the fantasy."
"Wow! What a terrible life you must lead." She pulled a Keds slide from her foot and emptied sand out of her shoe. A few grains landed on Luc's shiny black loafer. "To think, with courtship skills like that, that any woman wouldn't be swept off her feet—it's unfathomable." She patted his arm. "I wish you luck, Luc. I'm sure your mother will have some very nice choices for you, so go enjoy yourself. Perk up, there're billions
more to be made when you get back."
"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Katie."
e was right, but she didn't trust herself around him. She'd taken leave of her senses too many times in that weakened state. Since moving to California, she'd made it her goal to live life logically and for the Lord. She hadn't fallen victim to her emotions since leaving New Orleans, and she'd invested too much to give into them now.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I only meant that I'm sure there are other nice girls willing to go home and pretend for your mother. I've already done that, only you forgot to tell me we were pretending. Remember?"
He flinched. "Below the belt."
A pencil fell from behind her ear, and she stooped to pick it up, careful not to meet his glance as she rose. "I'm sorry, but I'm busy here. Maybe we could catch up another time? I'd like that and won't be so sidetracked." She looked across the room toward Austin, an angelic but severely autistic child in a wheelchair. He pounded against his tray. "The kids are getting hungry. It's lunchtime." She pointed to the schedule.
Luc scooped a hand under her chin and forced her to look at him. "Where else am I going to find a gorgeous redhead who knows who Glenn Miller is?"
"Don't, Luc. Don't charm me. It's beneath you. Buy one of your bubble-headed blondes a box of dye and send her to iTunes to do research. Problem solved."
He didn't let go. "Ryan wants you to sing at the wedding, Katie. He sent me personally to make sure you'd be there and sing 'Someone to Watch Over Me.' I'm not a man who quits because something's difficult."
"Anyone worth her salt on Bourbon Street can sing that. Excuse me—"
"Katie-bug."
"Luc, I asked you kindly. Don't. I'm not one of your sophisticated girls who knows how to play games. I'm not going to the wedding. That part of my life is over."
"That part of your life? What about that part of you? Where is she?"
She ignored his question. "I cannot be the only woman you know capable of being your date. You're not familiar with anyone else who isn't an actress-slash-waitress?" She cupped his hand in her own and allowed herself to experience the surge of energy. "I have to go." She dropped his hands and pushed back through the half door. "I'm sure you have a meeting to get to. Am I right?"
"It's true," he admitted. "I had business in San Francisco today, a merger. We bought a small chain of health food stores to expand the brand. But I was planning the trip to see you anyway and ask you personally."
"Uh-huh."
"We'll be doing specialty outlets in smaller locations where real estate prices are too high for a full grocery outlet. Having the natural concept already in these locations makes my job that much easier."
"To take over the free world with organics, you mean?"
That made him smile, and she warmed at the sparkle in his eye. When Luc was in his element, there was nothing like it. His excitement was contagious and spread like a classroom virus, infecting those around him with a false sense of security. She inhaled deeply and reminded herself that the man sold inspiration by the pound. His power over her was universal. It did not make her special.
"Name your price," he said. "I'm here to end this rift between us, whatever it is, and I'll do the time. Tell me what it is you want."
"There is no price, Luc. I don't want anything from you. I'm not going to Ryan's wedding. My life is here."
"Day and night . . . night and day," he crooned and then his voice was beside her ear. "One last swing dance at my brother's wedding. One last song and I'll leave you alone. I promise."
She crossed the room to the sink against the far wall, but she felt him follow. She hated how he could make every nerve in her body come to life, while he seemingly felt nothing in return. She closed her eyes and searched for inner strength. He didn't want me. Not in a way that mattered. He wanted her when it suited him to have her at his side.
"Even if I were able to get the time off work, Luc, it wouldn't be right to go to your brother's wedding as your date. I'm about to get engaged."
"Engaged?" He stepped away.
She squeezed hand sanitizer onto her hands and rubbed thoroughly.
"I'll give a call to your fiancé and let him know the benefits." He pulled a small leather pad of paper from his coat pocket. "I'll arrange everything. You get a free trip home, I get a Christian date my mother is proud to know, and then your life goes back to normal. Everyone's happy." He took off his fedora as though to plead his case in true gentlemanly fashion. "My mother is still very proud to have led you from
your . . ." He choked back a word. "From your previous life and to Jesus."
The announcement of her engagement seemed to have had little effect on Luc, and Katie felt as if her heart shattered all over again. "My previous life was you. She was proud to lead me away from her son's life." She leaned on the countertop, trying to remember why she'd come to the kitchen area.
"You know what I meant."
"I wasn't exactly a streetwalker, Luc. I was a late-night bar singer in the Central District, and the only one who ever led my reputation into question was you. So I'm failing to see the mutual benefit here. Your mother. Your date. And I get a free trip to a place I worked my tail off to get out of."
She struggled with a giant jar of applesauce, which Luc took from her and opened easily. He passed the jar back to her and let his fingers brush hers.
"My mother would be out of her head to see you. And the entire town could see what they lost when they let their prettiest belle go. Come help me remind them. Don't you want to show them that you're thriving? That you didn't curl up and die after that awful night?"
"I really don't need to prove anything, Luc." She pulled her apron, with its child-size handprints in primary colors, over her head. "I'm not your fallback, and I really don't care if people continue to see me that way. They don't know me."
"Which you? The one who lives a colorless existence and calls it holy? Or the one who danced on air and inspired an entire theater troupe to rediscover swing and raise money for a new stage?" Luc bent down, took her out at the knees, and hoisted her up over his shoulder.
"What are you doing? Do you think you're Tarzan? Put me down." She pounded on his back, and she could hear the chaos he'd created in the classroom. "These kids need structure. What do you think you're doing? I demand you put me down!"
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!
February 24, 2011
Excerpt - Turbulence by Dana Mentink
Turbulenceby
Dana Mentink
Someone wants to ensure that the flight bringing Maddie Lambert and a transplant organ to her father never reaches its destination. Someone who's desperate enough to sabotage the plane. In the aftermath of the crash, Maddie finds herself stranded on an isolated mountain with the last man she'd ever trust again—her ex-fiancé, Dr. Paul Ford. He's the man she blames for her family's tragic loss, but now he's the only one who can get her to her father in time. Yet what neither of them knows is that the danger has just begun….
Excerpt of chapter one:
The box was plain metal, the color of tarnished silver.
Maddie Lambert watched as Dr. Wrigley slid it carefully onto the bench seat of the jet her father had chartered. He fastened it down with bungee cords. Odd, she thought. The box was so painfully ordinary. She'd imagined it would be more impressive somehow.
Wrigley checked his watch and took a seat on one side of the box, the cabin lights shining on his bald head as he peered at the screen of his phone.
Stomach knotted, she shouldered her bag more firmly and squeezed down the aisle to greet him.
"Dr. Wrigley."
He looked startled. "Ms. Lambert. I had no idea you would be on the flight."
The man hunched on the other end of the bench seat straightened abruptly.
"Paul?" She gasped, momentarily forgetting about Dr. Wrigley and his cargo.
"Maddie."
Two syllables and in them she heard a lifetime of anguish. Maybe the grief was not in his voice, but still ringing in her own ears after a year going on eternity. A wave of emotion shuddered through her so strongly she bit her lip to keep from screaming. They'd agreed to stay out of each other's lives. There was too much pain; the past would forever be an impossible wedge between them. She fought to keep her voice steady. "What are you doing on this plane, Paul?"
Dr. Paul Ford stood, tall and lanky, and shook away the hair that perpetually hung in his eyes. Wrigley eyed them both as if they were a couple of live grenades just rolled down the aisle.
Paul raised his hand slightly, as if he meant to take her cold fingers in his.
She tightened her grip on the bag, nails digging into the nylon strap, and forced herself to stare into his gray eyes.
Paul shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his gaze roving her face as if he had left something there long ago. "I wanted to be here, unofficially, to escort Dr. Wrigley, in case he needed anything."
The pilot stepped into the cabin. The copilot peered in from behind him, a concerned look on his face, and holding a carton with two coffees. "Ms. Lambert? Is there a problem? This gentleman showed proper hospital identification. I was told two Bayview employees, a gentleman from the Heartline Corporation rep and you." He looked around. "Nobody from Heartline yet?"
"No," Dr. Wrigley said. "I'm still not certain why the company needed to send someone to accompany their device anyway. The Berlin Heart is a mechanical marvel. There's no way we would let anything happen to it."
"My father and I expected the hospital director."
The pilot looked again at her. "Shall we delay takeoff?"
Focus, Maddie. Do whatever you need to to get this plane in the air.
"No, there's no problem. I guess the director changed plans."
Paul shrugged. "He canceled."
The pilot excused himself and returned to the cockpit.
Dr. Wrigley looked sharply over his wire-rimmed glasses. "Canceled? Since when?"
Paul seemed not to hear the question. He took a step into the aisle, closer to Maddie. "I didn't think…" He cleared his throat. "I assumed you would have already flown out to be with your father prior to the surgery."
She refused to move back a pace, though his nearness, the musky smell of his cologne made her head spin with too many emotions to name. She felt the bittersweet shadow of lingering tenderness and fought to shut it down. "You think I should be with my father? To say goodbye in case it doesn't work?"
Paul exhaled. "No, to comfort him."
"My sister's there. I wanted to fly with." She looked at the secured box. "I wanted to be on this flight." She could not stop herself from adding, "After all my father's been through, I thought someone should be there every step along the way."
Paul's face twisted. He looked toward the cockpit, his chin shadowed by dark stubble. The tiny muscles in the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. She looked into his gaze, those gray eyes that used to dance with laughter, and yes, a touch of arrogance, too. They were flat now, as if some internal light had been extinguished.
Dr. Wrigley stood and rested a hand on Paul's shoulder. "Maddie? We've not had a chance to talk in a while. I'm honored to be a part of this. We certainly had to navigate some massive red tape to get hold of a Berlin Heart. Heart-line has only made a few of their artificial hearts this year. Your father picked the best surgeon in the country. I know they had to apply for a compassionate-use permit, since it's not yet cleared by the FDA. If everything goes well, and I'm confident it will, this may be the procedure that ensures FDA approval. It could save many thousands of lives every year."
It was the time for diplomacy, for a conciliatory tone toward a person so much higher up the ladder she could hardly see him. Instead, she felt the ugly truth spill out. "Dr. Wrigley, I don't care if the Berlin Heart ever gets cleared by the FDA and I don't care about the reputation of the hospital. The only thing on my mind is whether that piece of plastic will save my father's life."
Though it could have been her imagination, she thought she saw the glimmer of a smile on Paul's full lips, though he remained silent.
Dr. Wrigley reddened. "Of course. I can imagine the grief you and your family have endured."
He could imagine? After Wrigley broke up her father's long-ago engagement and knowing her nieces had died in the emergency room he supervised? The anger hummed inside, growing louder with every passing second. "You have grandchildren, don't you, Dr. Wrigley?"
He nodded.
"So you're saying you can imagine what it would be like driving them to the park and having a drunk driver plow into your car?"
Paul grimaced, crossing his arms across his chest.
Wrigley's lips tightened. "The hospital and Dr. Ford did the best they could for your nieces, as well as your father."
"Yet, my nieces are dead, while the drunk who hit them is in perfect health." She shot a look at Paul.
The gray of his eyes darkened like a coming storm, but he did not comment.
Her words snapped out. "And you hope to save the reputation of your hospital and deflect my father's financial investigation with this groundbreaking surgery."
Dr. Wrigley's mouth fell open. "Ms. Lambert, your father has had a personal vendetta against me for years, but I had hoped you'd be more reasonable. Your grief doesn't give you an excuse to attack me or the hospital."
Her voice broke, but she persevered. "My father was investigating Bayview because his company was hired to do so, pending a buyout. That's what he does for a living. It wasn't a personal attack on you. As far as my feelings about the matter, I don't need an excuse to grieve. I see their faces every day in dreams and when I'm awake." Her eyes filled but she willed herself not to cry.
Why had the hospital not had enough staff in the E.R. that fateful morning? It had come to light that Paul was late to work because he'd been on the phone trying to check up on his brother, but there had been no answer. If he'd only made contact, perhaps his drunk sibling might not have plowed into the car Bruce Lambert was driving.
The terrible thought occurred to her again. Paul had four victims brought in then. One of them his brother. The children were too far gone to save, according to official hospital reports, but she didn't believe it. Paul had chosen to help his brother at the expense of the children. Her father believed it deep down in his core. And in spite of the love she and Paul had once shared, the anguish she felt, the darkest part of her believed it, too.
Dr. Wrigley shook his head. "As I said, I understand."
Her fury ebbed, leaving a profound fatigue in its wake. Though she spoke to Wrigley, her eyes were riveted on Paul's. "Respectfully, Dr. Wrigley, you couldn't possibly understand."
The captain's voice crackled over the intercom, requesting the passengers buckle up for takeoff. Maddie walked on trembling legs, glad her seat was facing forward and she wouldn't have to spend the flight looking at Paul. Disbelief fogged her mind.
Paul was on the plane. His nearness was a switchblade pressed to her heart, enough to cut but not to sever.
You've put it behind you. Focus on the now, the miracle you've been given, the heart that will save your father's life.
An Asian man with hair down to his shoulders slid into the seat beside her. She guessed him to be in his fifties, though his eyes seemed much younger. "Hello. Almost missed it."
She jumped. "You must be the man from Heartline."
"Yes. You're Bruce Lambert's daughter? A physical therapist, I heard. I might need one after my sprint through the airport."
She did not want to be talking to him or anyone else, but there was no polite way to ignore the man in the cramped space of the small jet. "My clinic is across town. You can look me up when we get back, Mr..?"
He extended his hand. "Tai Jaden. Pleased to meet you. I'm glad our company could provide the heart that will save your father's life."
She gripped his fingers. "Me, too."
He pointed to the illuminated sign. "Better buckle up. It's time to go."
Maddie closed her eyes and tried to sleep as the flight lifted off through clouded San Francisco skies and headed north, but the shudders of the plane and her own worries prevented it. She could feel Paul's presence like a shadow, and she almost wished she'd decided not to board. Her father hadn't wanted her to accompany the heart. Not necessary, he'd said. Fly ahead and meet it on the other end.
But her father was down to his last days, the Berlin Heart his only option; and the past year, he'd been so stricken that he barely worked or accepted comfort from her. She had little to give anyway. She understood about his torn ventricle and the patched aorta that could not be permanently repaired.
But it was not those things alone that put Bruce Lambert a hairbreadth from death. It was grief and the helplessness of a powerful man who realized he could not buy back a single moment of the past. Doctors were surprised he'd survived this far.
Only one thing kept him alive and able to put his plans into action. It wasn't physical or emotional healing. Not coming to terms with the loss. Something darker and infinitely cold.
He might not achieve peace, but he would have his revenge on Wrigley, on the hospital. She swallowed. On Paul. She'd heard him rant. Not enough doctors on duty. Wrigley unable to be located when he should have been supervising the emergency room. Paul's inability or unwillingness to save the children.
She made herself remember. Paul had managed to save his brother, his blood, at the expense of the kids. She'd heard her father say it time and time again, but there was some tiny part, some deep-down whisper in her heart that wondered.
The desire for revenge was the only thing sustaining her father, and if that was what he needed, she would help him get it.
Paul spoke to Dr. Wrigley. She heard the low huskiness of his voice over the whine of the small airplane's air circulation system. Her guilt was palpable, a live thing that slithered through her gut and into her spine until it whispered in her brain.
Her father's vengeance meant everyone responsible for the children's death would pay.
She shivered.
Jaden shot her a glance. "Cold?"
"Just thinking."
He gave her a curious look as the plane banked and sliced through a storm-washed sky.
She closed her eyes and gave herself to sleep.
* * *They'd been in the air for two hours going on a lifetime. The plane was a six-seater Cessna, and Paul could see Mad-die's chestnut hair just over the top of the seat in front of him. He couldn't decide if he had caught the scent of her, the fragrance she always wore that reminded him of cinnamon, or if it was the cruel taunting of his memory.
Dr. Wrigley's surreptitious glances in his direction didn't help him relax. "What?" Paul said finally, turning to him. "What's on your mind?"
"I'm worried."
"About what?"
Wrigley raised an eyebrow. "Flying with an unstable, grief-blinded woman, for one."
"She's not unstable."
"No? Well blaming the hospital and the both of us for the tragedy isn't rational. She's bought into her father's madness. He's had it against me since grad school."
When you had an affair with his fiancée? Paul imagined his own wrath if someone had tried to steal Maddie from him. The pain in his gut reminded him she was not his anymore. He cleared his throat. "She's just here to make sure nothing goes wrong."
Wrigley's eyes narrowed. "And the man from Heartline. Do you know him?"
Paul looked at the passenger he'd been trying to identify since they took off. "No. Maybe Maddie does." He sighed, thinking about how much he'd lost since they'd broken up. It had been a little more than a year since the accident, two months since he'd last spoken to her, and then it was merely a strained conversation outside a lawyer's office. She seeking a civil suit against the drunk driver who killed her nieces, and he in search of any kind of help for the same man, whom, in spite of everything, Paul loved.
His older brother, Mark, who was in prison.
Paul pushed away the ever-present pain and tried to read his book. This one was set in a submarine. The hero a rugged ex-marine who would accept no failure. Big guy, big guns, lots of good one-liners. If only things were so black and white. You wanted something, you worked hard at it and bingo: dreams came true.
He'd learned early on that, in the field of medicine, dogged determination didn't keep damaged hearts beating. Hard work and a brilliant understanding of the human body wasn't enough.
And sometimes love wasn't, either. It was ironic that he could hardly look at Maddie due to the guilt, yet he couldn't stop thinking about her for a single moment. He leaned his head against the cool glass of the window and tried to refocus on the book.
After the okay from the pilot, he saw Dr. Wrigley check his emails.
"It's from Director Stevens—'Sorry I missed the flight. Thanks for "having a heart" and taking my place. Look forward to your report next week. Keep your eyes on that heart.'" Wrigley grimaced. "Funny guy. I thought I'd had enough of his jokes when he pawned off a meeting on me yesterday and flew the memo into my office on a paper airplane. I had better things to do than sit next to a heart all the way to Washington."
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