Camy Tang's Blog, page 157
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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February 23, 2011
Street Team Book List excerpt - OPERATION BONNET by Kimberly Stuart
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 Operation Bonnet David C. Cook; New edition (February 1, 2011) by Kimberly Stuart
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Kimberly says:
I am a writer of comedic fiction, and would like to suggest that you laugh regularly when reading my books. Let's also try for one to two teary moments. If you are crying more than that, you don't understand my sense of humor and should move on to another author.
I grew up in a book-loving home. Actually, that's not entirely accurate. My mom loves books. My dad loves to read the first chapters of books and then make us all listen as he recites his favorite passages. I, however, enjoy reading books in their entirety and came into writing as a result of book-love. After earning two fancy degrees in education and Spanish, I promptly let the thinking part of my brain take a breather and instead became pregnant. (I'm sure a lot of other things happened between early literacy and pregnancy but I don't really remember any of that. If you also have shared your uterus with another human, you understand.)
In an effort to author a book that would entertain my sassy, irreverent, breast-feeding/drooping friends, I wrote my first novel, Balancing Act. People were so nice to me after that, I decided to continue with writing. Also, I can't craft, knit, or scrapbook, so what else was a nice, Christian girl to do?
In addition to writing books to make my friends laugh and cry, I observe the chaos at the home I share with my unfailingly supportive husband and three offspring. We're doing our best and so far, no one's been to prison.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Twenty-year-old Nellie Monroe has a restless brilliance that makes her a bit of an odd duck. She wants to be a private investigator, even though her tiny hometown offers no hope of clients. Until she meets Amos Shetler, an Amish dropout carrying a torch for the girl he left behind.
So Nellie straps on her bonnet and goes undercover to get the dish. But though she's brainy, Nellie is clueless when it comes to real life and real relationships. Soon she's alienated her best friend, angered her college professor, and botched her case.
Operation Bonnet is a comedy of errors, a surprising take on love, and a story of grace.
Watch the book video trailer:
Excerpt of chapter one:
Coming soon
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing Operation Bonnet David C. Cook; New edition (February 1, 2011) by Kimberly Stuart
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Kimberly says:
I am a writer of comedic fiction, and would like to suggest that you laugh regularly when reading my books. Let's also try for one to two teary moments. If you are crying more than that, you don't understand my sense of humor and should move on to another author.
I grew up in a book-loving home. Actually, that's not entirely accurate. My mom loves books. My dad loves to read the first chapters of books and then make us all listen as he recites his favorite passages. I, however, enjoy reading books in their entirety and came into writing as a result of book-love. After earning two fancy degrees in education and Spanish, I promptly let the thinking part of my brain take a breather and instead became pregnant. (I'm sure a lot of other things happened between early literacy and pregnancy but I don't really remember any of that. If you also have shared your uterus with another human, you understand.)
In an effort to author a book that would entertain my sassy, irreverent, breast-feeding/drooping friends, I wrote my first novel, Balancing Act. People were so nice to me after that, I decided to continue with writing. Also, I can't craft, knit, or scrapbook, so what else was a nice, Christian girl to do?
In addition to writing books to make my friends laugh and cry, I observe the chaos at the home I share with my unfailingly supportive husband and three offspring. We're doing our best and so far, no one's been to prison.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Twenty-year-old Nellie Monroe has a restless brilliance that makes her a bit of an odd duck. She wants to be a private investigator, even though her tiny hometown offers no hope of clients. Until she meets Amos Shetler, an Amish dropout carrying a torch for the girl he left behind. So Nellie straps on her bonnet and goes undercover to get the dish. But though she's brainy, Nellie is clueless when it comes to real life and real relationships. Soon she's alienated her best friend, angered her college professor, and botched her case.
Operation Bonnet is a comedy of errors, a surprising take on love, and a story of grace.
Watch the book video trailer:
Excerpt of chapter one:
Coming soon
February 22, 2011
Excerpt - A Deadly Game by Virginia Smith
A Deadly Game
by
Virginia Smith
After discovering her boss's dead body, Susanna Trent receives an unusual package from him filled with strange metal tokens and odd clues. Then Susanna, who is the guardian of her three-year-old niece, starts getting anonymous phone calls taunting her with thinly veiled threats. Worried for her life and that of her sister's child, Susanna struggles to trust the one man who can help: wealthy executive Jack Townsend. As they work together to solve the mysterious puzzle, Jack and Susanna are led into a dangerous game neither knows how to play. But they do know the stakes—life or death.
Excerpt of chapter one:
The moment she rounded the corner of the building, Susanna Trent knew something was wrong. To her right, darkness shrouded the wooded area that ran the length of the building housing Ingram Industries. Tiny frozen daggers of sleet sliced through the nighttime sky to fall onto the crowded evergreen branches, the contact goading the trees into an eerie dance. To her left, slivers of light peeked through the cracks of closed blinds in the floor-to-ceiling office windows. Sleet stung her cheeks and slapped at the nylon hood of her jacket as she skidded to a halt on the sidewalk.
Behind her, Jack Townsend didn't stop quite as quickly. He bumped into her, and almost knocked her off her feet.
Jack slipped a strong hand under her arm to steady her. "Sorry about that."
Susanna acknowledged the apology with an absent nod, her stare fixed on the windows. A finger of disquiet tapped at the edges of her mind. She'd expected to see her boss standing there, waiting for her to arrive with his new Corvette. Mr. Ingram had been ecstatic when she called him after the auction ended to tell him that she'd succeeded in buying the car he wanted. Why wasn't he watching for the moment she arrived, ready to dash outside to see it? Something definitely wasn't right here.
Jack's head turned as he followed her gaze. "Is something wrong?"
Susanna shook her head, as much to dislodge the uneasy feelings as to answer. "It's just that the blinds are closed. They're never closed."
"Maybe he wanted some privacy."
"From what?" She pointed toward the desolate woods. "Nobody ever comes back here except him and me."
Jack peered into the ice-covered evergreens, then shrugged. "Why don't we ask him?"
His smile tilted sideways, and Susanna couldn't help but admire the guy's strong jaw, chiseled nose and short-cropped dark hair. They'd just met a few hours ago, at the car auction, and she'd noted his wholesome good looks right off. Normally she would have found him attractive, but Jack Townsend was exactly the kind of man she made a point of avoiding. He shared too much in common with someone she hoped she'd never have to see again.
Still, he was doing Mr. Ingram a favor by delivering the new Corvette. She had to admit that was a nice gesture, especially when he had been bidding against her for the same car. Unusual, too. In Susanna's experience, the sons of billionaires were far too self-centered to do something nice for someone else.
She glanced again at the closed blinds and couldn't completely dismiss the feeling of foreboding that bloomed. Hurrying to the heavy metal door, she shrugged the strap of her voluminous handbag from her shoulder. The cavernous interior of the purse held a wealth of useful personal items, with plenty of room for the envelope containing the papers for Mr. Ingram's new car. But it also ate keys. She rummaged inside, shaking to listen for the telltale jingle. Finally, she found them. Her gloved fingers fumbled to locate the right one, and she shoved it into the lock.
The hallway inside was empty, but it would be at this time of night. Susanna led Jack down the short corridor and around the corner. A quick glance toward the front of the building showed that the main lights were off in the accounting department. Stillness filled the office, normally bustling in the daytime. A few safety lights cast a dim glow over the empty desks.
She didn't pause when she entered her own work space, but hurried across the carpeted floor, past her tidy desk. The door to Mr. Ingram's private office had been pulled almost closed. Was he on a phone call, maybe? She halted for a moment, but didn't hear any noise from inside.
"Mr. Ingram?" She tapped on the wood, the sound muted by her gloves. "I'm here with your car."
No answer. Alarm crept like spider legs up the back of Susanna's neck. Something was wrong; she could feel it. She exchanged a glance with Jack, whose brows had drawn together over eyes dark with concern.
"Mr. Ingram? Is everything okay?"
Susanna laid a gloved hand on the solid door and gave a gentle push. It swung inward, and she slipped through the enlarged opening. The desk chair was empty, but her gaze was drawn to the floor.
A body lay halfway hidden behind the big wooden desk. But the head was visible. The image seared into Susanna's brain like a hot brand, and she knew she would remember it as long as she lived. Mr. Ingram's face was purple, his eyes bulging from their sockets to stare at something no living person could see.
A scream tore from her throat.
While the police officer took his statement, Jack tried not to look toward Ingram's open office door. From the corner of his eye he saw a flash from the investigator's camera as it photographed the body. He suppressed a shudder and glanced in the opposite direction, where Susanna sat huddled in a chair, her face hidden behind a curtain of blond hair. The horrified sound of her scream still echoed in his ears. She spoke quietly into a cell phone, which she held cupped to the side of her head with one hand while she massaged her temples with the thumb and forefinger of the other. Something about the way her drooping shoulders gave an occasional heave, as if she was holding back sobs, made Jack want to cross the room and place a comforting arm around her.
The thought brought a sour taste to his mouth. An offer of compassion might be viewed as an invitation, and he wasn't about to get himself any more involved with Susanna Trent than he already was. They'd known each other only a few hours, and already the gruesome specter of a dead body had polluted any budding relationship they might have enjoyed. That, and the fact that she knew who he was. The name Townsend cast a long shadow in Lexington, Kentucky.
"Thank you for answering our questions, Mr. Townsend." Jack pulled his attention away from Susanna and focused on the police detective. The man, who had identified himself as Detective Rollins, gave a quick smile. "If you don't mind, we'd like to get an address and phone number where we can reach you in case something comes up that we need to clarify."
"Of course." Jack slid his wallet out of his jeans pocket and extracted a card.
Rollins took it out of his hand and studied it. "Vice President of Supply for Townsend Steakhouses, Inc." The detective didn't bother to hide the fact that he was impressed. "That sounds like an important job."
"Yes, it certainly does." Jack worded his answer carefully, and hoped his smile was sincere.
The detective's expression turned quizzical, but he didn't pursue the matter. "Well, we may be in touch. In the meantime, if you think of anything that could be helpful, give us a call."
Rollins handed the card to the uniformed officer standing next to him, who began copying information from it. With another quick smile, this time in dismissal, the detective headed for Ingram's office.
Apparently Jack was free to leave. He glanced toward Susanna, who had not moved from her chair and was still speaking quietly into her phone. Hopefully she was talking to someone who would offer her the support she needed. A boyfriend, maybe. Though he felt a twinge of guilt at leaving her to face the detective's questions alone, he had his own call to make. He'd put it off long enough.
Jack extracted his cell phone from his pocket and pressed the power button as he stepped from the building into the cold evening air. He hurried down the sidewalk toward his truck, which still had the big covered car trailer hitched to the back. The sleet had stopped for the moment, but his breath froze in visible puffs as he scrolled down the listings in his cell phone address book to the entry for his father, R. H. Townsend. When Jack came to work in the office of Townsend Steakhouses, his father had insisted that he stop being childish and address him as R.H., like all the other management employees. In Jack's mind, he'd been R.H. for years anyway. Giving that cold man the title Father had felt wrong for a long time.
The time read just past nine, which meant that R.H. would be in his home office, working for several more hours before he went to bed. Jack pictured him behind his desk, reading from a neat stack of papers, jotting notes on the yellow legal pad he kept nearby at all times to record the not-infrequent ideas that kept the research and development department at Townsend Steakhouses in a perpetual state of flustered activity.
The phone didn't finish the first ring.
"I've been trying to call you for hours. Did you get the car?" No greeting. R. H. Townsend rarely wasted time on pleasantries.
"I'm afraid not. The b—"
"What?"
A string of foul language polluted the airspace between Jack's phone and his father's. Jack set his teeth together and endured the tirade. If the frigid air had turned blue around him, he wouldn't have been surprised. His father's language was rarely appropriate for Sunday school, but this outburst went on longer than usual.
When he paused for a breath, Jack jumped in to defend himself. "Wait a minute. If you'll just listen—"
"Listen? That's what I expected you to do—listen to me, and do as you were told. But I guess it was asking too much to expect you to follow one simple request."
The scorn in his father's words was all too familiar. It was a tone Jack had heard many times since his boyhood.
"Who bought it?"
Jack squeezed his eyes shut before he said the name. "Tom Ingram's secretary."
"You let a secretary buy my car out from under your nose?"
Another tirade followed, and Jack let it run dry before he offered his explanation. "The car sold for thirty thousand dollars. I checked a whole list of comparables before I left for the auction, so I know that's more than it was worth.
But I located another red Corvette up near Indianapolis, and it's in even b—"
"Just forget it. I don't want to hear your excuses."
With iron control, Jack bit back the words that threatened to shoot out of his mouth. His chest expanded slowly as he drew icy air into his lungs. He'd long ago given up trying to defend his actions to his father.
Besides, he had another blow to deliver, and there was no way to soften it. His father and Thomas Ingram had been friends.
Jack kept his tone even as he spoke. "R.H., I have something to tell you that may come as a shock." He drew another breath, then broke the news. "Tom Ingram is dead."
"Dead? Don't tell me he wrecked the car as soon as he got it."
Jack arrived at the pickup, and unlocked the door with a click of the remote. "No, it wasn't an accident. He was killed. Murdered, right in his office."
Silence on the line. Jack opened the door and climbed into the driver's seat. A trace of warmth still lingered in the cab from his ninety-minute drive after the auction. He pictured his father, seated in his high-backed chair, digesting the news. He and Ingram were among a small group of wealthy businessmen who'd been in the habit of getting together for a monthly poker game for the past several years. Ingram's death would be a blow to them all.
"That's…terrible. Just terrible. Where did you hear about it? Is it on the radio?"
"No, I don't think the press has gotten wind of the news yet. After his secretary bought the car, she couldn't find a transport company to deliver it tonight. They were all booked solid for several days. Since I had taken an empty trailer with me anyway, I offered to bring the Corvette back to Lexington for her. We found the body when we got here."
"Wait a minute. First you let someone else buy my car, and then you delivered it for her?"
Jack stiffened at the outrage in his father's voice. "Maybe you didn't hear me. I just told you that your friend has been killed—murdered—and I found the body. And all you can think about is a car?"
"I said it was terrible. What more do you want me to say?" Jack heard a quick intake of breath. "What's going to happen to the car now? Ingram certainly doesn't need it anymore."
He shook his head, unable to answer for a moment. Obviously he'd been wrong to describe Ingram as his father's friend. R.H. had no friends. He had social acquaintances, business associates and employees, but certainly no one in whom he would confide as a friend. Jack had heard the lecture many times growing up—confidences were an act of weakness. Why would you tell someone your thoughts and give them a weapon that might be used against you later? Being too open with people was one of the many things for which R. H. Townsend faulted his son.
Still, a man had been murdered. Jack had known his father rarely wasted time on sentimentality, but to express an interest in the Corvette this soon? It was downright callous.
If that's what being a successful businessman leads to, Lord, then save me from success.
There was no use trying to convince his father that the question was inappropriate. The man was a brusque, uncaring businessman through and through, and he wasn't likely to change his attitude anytime soon.
Jack finally managed an even response. "I overheard his secretary tell the police that Ingram has two daughters.
The car probably belongs to them now. Maybe they'd be willing to sell it to you."
"How long do you think that would take?"
Jack closed his eyes. "I really don't know."
"Check on it then."
A click, and the call disconnected. For a long time, Jack sat staring at the phone. He'd seen his father make some harsh business decisions with little regard for the people whose lives he had affected. He'd watched him sign away the jobs and livelihood of hundreds of employees with the flourish of a pen, without even a passing thought to their welfare. Heard him more than once berate midlevel managers with language that should have resulted in lawsuits. And he'd been on the receiving end of that famous Townsend temper more times than he could count. He thought nothing the man could do would surprise him anymore. But this reaction to Tom Ingram's death plunged to a new depth. R.H. had proven himself to be completely heartless.
The cab lost the last of its warmth, and a circle of breath frosted on the inside of the windshield. Jack shook himself free of his thoughts and jumped out of the truck. He'd better go back inside and find out how to contact Ingram's daughters about the Corvette. If he didn't, R.H. would do it himself. At least Jack could try to handle the situation tactfully.
Print book:
Barnes and Noble
Amazon
Christianbook.com
Books a Million
Ebook:
Nookbook
Kindle
by
Virginia Smith
After discovering her boss's dead body, Susanna Trent receives an unusual package from him filled with strange metal tokens and odd clues. Then Susanna, who is the guardian of her three-year-old niece, starts getting anonymous phone calls taunting her with thinly veiled threats. Worried for her life and that of her sister's child, Susanna struggles to trust the one man who can help: wealthy executive Jack Townsend. As they work together to solve the mysterious puzzle, Jack and Susanna are led into a dangerous game neither knows how to play. But they do know the stakes—life or death.
Excerpt of chapter one:
The moment she rounded the corner of the building, Susanna Trent knew something was wrong. To her right, darkness shrouded the wooded area that ran the length of the building housing Ingram Industries. Tiny frozen daggers of sleet sliced through the nighttime sky to fall onto the crowded evergreen branches, the contact goading the trees into an eerie dance. To her left, slivers of light peeked through the cracks of closed blinds in the floor-to-ceiling office windows. Sleet stung her cheeks and slapped at the nylon hood of her jacket as she skidded to a halt on the sidewalk.
Behind her, Jack Townsend didn't stop quite as quickly. He bumped into her, and almost knocked her off her feet.
Jack slipped a strong hand under her arm to steady her. "Sorry about that."
Susanna acknowledged the apology with an absent nod, her stare fixed on the windows. A finger of disquiet tapped at the edges of her mind. She'd expected to see her boss standing there, waiting for her to arrive with his new Corvette. Mr. Ingram had been ecstatic when she called him after the auction ended to tell him that she'd succeeded in buying the car he wanted. Why wasn't he watching for the moment she arrived, ready to dash outside to see it? Something definitely wasn't right here.
Jack's head turned as he followed her gaze. "Is something wrong?"
Susanna shook her head, as much to dislodge the uneasy feelings as to answer. "It's just that the blinds are closed. They're never closed."
"Maybe he wanted some privacy."
"From what?" She pointed toward the desolate woods. "Nobody ever comes back here except him and me."
Jack peered into the ice-covered evergreens, then shrugged. "Why don't we ask him?"
His smile tilted sideways, and Susanna couldn't help but admire the guy's strong jaw, chiseled nose and short-cropped dark hair. They'd just met a few hours ago, at the car auction, and she'd noted his wholesome good looks right off. Normally she would have found him attractive, but Jack Townsend was exactly the kind of man she made a point of avoiding. He shared too much in common with someone she hoped she'd never have to see again.
Still, he was doing Mr. Ingram a favor by delivering the new Corvette. She had to admit that was a nice gesture, especially when he had been bidding against her for the same car. Unusual, too. In Susanna's experience, the sons of billionaires were far too self-centered to do something nice for someone else.
She glanced again at the closed blinds and couldn't completely dismiss the feeling of foreboding that bloomed. Hurrying to the heavy metal door, she shrugged the strap of her voluminous handbag from her shoulder. The cavernous interior of the purse held a wealth of useful personal items, with plenty of room for the envelope containing the papers for Mr. Ingram's new car. But it also ate keys. She rummaged inside, shaking to listen for the telltale jingle. Finally, she found them. Her gloved fingers fumbled to locate the right one, and she shoved it into the lock.
The hallway inside was empty, but it would be at this time of night. Susanna led Jack down the short corridor and around the corner. A quick glance toward the front of the building showed that the main lights were off in the accounting department. Stillness filled the office, normally bustling in the daytime. A few safety lights cast a dim glow over the empty desks.
She didn't pause when she entered her own work space, but hurried across the carpeted floor, past her tidy desk. The door to Mr. Ingram's private office had been pulled almost closed. Was he on a phone call, maybe? She halted for a moment, but didn't hear any noise from inside.
"Mr. Ingram?" She tapped on the wood, the sound muted by her gloves. "I'm here with your car."
No answer. Alarm crept like spider legs up the back of Susanna's neck. Something was wrong; she could feel it. She exchanged a glance with Jack, whose brows had drawn together over eyes dark with concern.
"Mr. Ingram? Is everything okay?"
Susanna laid a gloved hand on the solid door and gave a gentle push. It swung inward, and she slipped through the enlarged opening. The desk chair was empty, but her gaze was drawn to the floor.
A body lay halfway hidden behind the big wooden desk. But the head was visible. The image seared into Susanna's brain like a hot brand, and she knew she would remember it as long as she lived. Mr. Ingram's face was purple, his eyes bulging from their sockets to stare at something no living person could see.
A scream tore from her throat.
While the police officer took his statement, Jack tried not to look toward Ingram's open office door. From the corner of his eye he saw a flash from the investigator's camera as it photographed the body. He suppressed a shudder and glanced in the opposite direction, where Susanna sat huddled in a chair, her face hidden behind a curtain of blond hair. The horrified sound of her scream still echoed in his ears. She spoke quietly into a cell phone, which she held cupped to the side of her head with one hand while she massaged her temples with the thumb and forefinger of the other. Something about the way her drooping shoulders gave an occasional heave, as if she was holding back sobs, made Jack want to cross the room and place a comforting arm around her.
The thought brought a sour taste to his mouth. An offer of compassion might be viewed as an invitation, and he wasn't about to get himself any more involved with Susanna Trent than he already was. They'd known each other only a few hours, and already the gruesome specter of a dead body had polluted any budding relationship they might have enjoyed. That, and the fact that she knew who he was. The name Townsend cast a long shadow in Lexington, Kentucky.
"Thank you for answering our questions, Mr. Townsend." Jack pulled his attention away from Susanna and focused on the police detective. The man, who had identified himself as Detective Rollins, gave a quick smile. "If you don't mind, we'd like to get an address and phone number where we can reach you in case something comes up that we need to clarify."
"Of course." Jack slid his wallet out of his jeans pocket and extracted a card.
Rollins took it out of his hand and studied it. "Vice President of Supply for Townsend Steakhouses, Inc." The detective didn't bother to hide the fact that he was impressed. "That sounds like an important job."
"Yes, it certainly does." Jack worded his answer carefully, and hoped his smile was sincere.
The detective's expression turned quizzical, but he didn't pursue the matter. "Well, we may be in touch. In the meantime, if you think of anything that could be helpful, give us a call."
Rollins handed the card to the uniformed officer standing next to him, who began copying information from it. With another quick smile, this time in dismissal, the detective headed for Ingram's office.
Apparently Jack was free to leave. He glanced toward Susanna, who had not moved from her chair and was still speaking quietly into her phone. Hopefully she was talking to someone who would offer her the support she needed. A boyfriend, maybe. Though he felt a twinge of guilt at leaving her to face the detective's questions alone, he had his own call to make. He'd put it off long enough.
Jack extracted his cell phone from his pocket and pressed the power button as he stepped from the building into the cold evening air. He hurried down the sidewalk toward his truck, which still had the big covered car trailer hitched to the back. The sleet had stopped for the moment, but his breath froze in visible puffs as he scrolled down the listings in his cell phone address book to the entry for his father, R. H. Townsend. When Jack came to work in the office of Townsend Steakhouses, his father had insisted that he stop being childish and address him as R.H., like all the other management employees. In Jack's mind, he'd been R.H. for years anyway. Giving that cold man the title Father had felt wrong for a long time.
The time read just past nine, which meant that R.H. would be in his home office, working for several more hours before he went to bed. Jack pictured him behind his desk, reading from a neat stack of papers, jotting notes on the yellow legal pad he kept nearby at all times to record the not-infrequent ideas that kept the research and development department at Townsend Steakhouses in a perpetual state of flustered activity.
The phone didn't finish the first ring.
"I've been trying to call you for hours. Did you get the car?" No greeting. R. H. Townsend rarely wasted time on pleasantries.
"I'm afraid not. The b—"
"What?"
A string of foul language polluted the airspace between Jack's phone and his father's. Jack set his teeth together and endured the tirade. If the frigid air had turned blue around him, he wouldn't have been surprised. His father's language was rarely appropriate for Sunday school, but this outburst went on longer than usual.
When he paused for a breath, Jack jumped in to defend himself. "Wait a minute. If you'll just listen—"
"Listen? That's what I expected you to do—listen to me, and do as you were told. But I guess it was asking too much to expect you to follow one simple request."
The scorn in his father's words was all too familiar. It was a tone Jack had heard many times since his boyhood.
"Who bought it?"
Jack squeezed his eyes shut before he said the name. "Tom Ingram's secretary."
"You let a secretary buy my car out from under your nose?"
Another tirade followed, and Jack let it run dry before he offered his explanation. "The car sold for thirty thousand dollars. I checked a whole list of comparables before I left for the auction, so I know that's more than it was worth.
But I located another red Corvette up near Indianapolis, and it's in even b—"
"Just forget it. I don't want to hear your excuses."
With iron control, Jack bit back the words that threatened to shoot out of his mouth. His chest expanded slowly as he drew icy air into his lungs. He'd long ago given up trying to defend his actions to his father.
Besides, he had another blow to deliver, and there was no way to soften it. His father and Thomas Ingram had been friends.
Jack kept his tone even as he spoke. "R.H., I have something to tell you that may come as a shock." He drew another breath, then broke the news. "Tom Ingram is dead."
"Dead? Don't tell me he wrecked the car as soon as he got it."
Jack arrived at the pickup, and unlocked the door with a click of the remote. "No, it wasn't an accident. He was killed. Murdered, right in his office."
Silence on the line. Jack opened the door and climbed into the driver's seat. A trace of warmth still lingered in the cab from his ninety-minute drive after the auction. He pictured his father, seated in his high-backed chair, digesting the news. He and Ingram were among a small group of wealthy businessmen who'd been in the habit of getting together for a monthly poker game for the past several years. Ingram's death would be a blow to them all.
"That's…terrible. Just terrible. Where did you hear about it? Is it on the radio?"
"No, I don't think the press has gotten wind of the news yet. After his secretary bought the car, she couldn't find a transport company to deliver it tonight. They were all booked solid for several days. Since I had taken an empty trailer with me anyway, I offered to bring the Corvette back to Lexington for her. We found the body when we got here."
"Wait a minute. First you let someone else buy my car, and then you delivered it for her?"
Jack stiffened at the outrage in his father's voice. "Maybe you didn't hear me. I just told you that your friend has been killed—murdered—and I found the body. And all you can think about is a car?"
"I said it was terrible. What more do you want me to say?" Jack heard a quick intake of breath. "What's going to happen to the car now? Ingram certainly doesn't need it anymore."
He shook his head, unable to answer for a moment. Obviously he'd been wrong to describe Ingram as his father's friend. R.H. had no friends. He had social acquaintances, business associates and employees, but certainly no one in whom he would confide as a friend. Jack had heard the lecture many times growing up—confidences were an act of weakness. Why would you tell someone your thoughts and give them a weapon that might be used against you later? Being too open with people was one of the many things for which R. H. Townsend faulted his son.
Still, a man had been murdered. Jack had known his father rarely wasted time on sentimentality, but to express an interest in the Corvette this soon? It was downright callous.
If that's what being a successful businessman leads to, Lord, then save me from success.
There was no use trying to convince his father that the question was inappropriate. The man was a brusque, uncaring businessman through and through, and he wasn't likely to change his attitude anytime soon.
Jack finally managed an even response. "I overheard his secretary tell the police that Ingram has two daughters.
The car probably belongs to them now. Maybe they'd be willing to sell it to you."
"How long do you think that would take?"
Jack closed his eyes. "I really don't know."
"Check on it then."
A click, and the call disconnected. For a long time, Jack sat staring at the phone. He'd seen his father make some harsh business decisions with little regard for the people whose lives he had affected. He'd watched him sign away the jobs and livelihood of hundreds of employees with the flourish of a pen, without even a passing thought to their welfare. Heard him more than once berate midlevel managers with language that should have resulted in lawsuits. And he'd been on the receiving end of that famous Townsend temper more times than he could count. He thought nothing the man could do would surprise him anymore. But this reaction to Tom Ingram's death plunged to a new depth. R.H. had proven himself to be completely heartless.
The cab lost the last of its warmth, and a circle of breath frosted on the inside of the windshield. Jack shook himself free of his thoughts and jumped out of the truck. He'd better go back inside and find out how to contact Ingram's daughters about the Corvette. If he didn't, R.H. would do it himself. At least Jack could try to handle the situation tactfully.
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Join my Street Team! Lots of prizes!
Captain's Log, Stardate 02.22.2011
For those of you who don't know, I've started a Street Team of people who give out my bookmarks and help promote my books. In return, for every batch of bookmarks they give out, they can pick free books from my Street Team Book List.
(From now until April 1st, instead of two free books, Street Team members can pick THREE free books every time they give away a batch of bookmarks!)
It's actually a lot of fun. Here's some places and people Street Team members have given away bookmarks:
At a community fair
Random people
Family members (who don't live with them)
To doctors, dentists, etc.
In Paperback Swap books
In letters and cards to people
Students
Friends
Coworkers
Library patrons
Bookstore patrons
Teachers
Other parents
Book Club members
Writing groups
I'm sure I've missed some. My Street Team members are crazy creative!
When I get my author copies of my latest book (usually 2 months ahead of the release date), it will go on my Street Team Book List so that Street Team members get first crack at winning a copy. All they have to do is give away their batch of bookmarks and then let me know they want my latest release as one of their free books.
Every so often, I'll also have mini contests and challenges with bonus prizes. I have a great lineup of WAY cool prizes for 2011. In April I'll be offering a REALLY awesome prize for Street Team members!
Sound fun? Want to win free books and other prizes? Join my Street Team! Click here for more information.
For current Street Team members: I just added new books to my Street Team Book List! Go check it out!
For those of you who don't know, I've started a Street Team of people who give out my bookmarks and help promote my books. In return, for every batch of bookmarks they give out, they can pick free books from my Street Team Book List.
(From now until April 1st, instead of two free books, Street Team members can pick THREE free books every time they give away a batch of bookmarks!)
It's actually a lot of fun. Here's some places and people Street Team members have given away bookmarks:
At a community fair
Random people
Family members (who don't live with them)
To doctors, dentists, etc.
In Paperback Swap books
In letters and cards to people
Students
Friends
Coworkers
Library patrons
Bookstore patrons
Teachers
Other parents
Book Club members
Writing groups
I'm sure I've missed some. My Street Team members are crazy creative!
When I get my author copies of my latest book (usually 2 months ahead of the release date), it will go on my Street Team Book List so that Street Team members get first crack at winning a copy. All they have to do is give away their batch of bookmarks and then let me know they want my latest release as one of their free books.
Every so often, I'll also have mini contests and challenges with bonus prizes. I have a great lineup of WAY cool prizes for 2011. In April I'll be offering a REALLY awesome prize for Street Team members!
Sound fun? Want to win free books and other prizes? Join my Street Team! Click here for more information.
For current Street Team members: I just added new books to my Street Team Book List! Go check it out!
February 21, 2011
Street Team Book list excerpt - SAVE THE DATE by Jenny B. Jones
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 Save The Date Thomas Nelson (February 1, 2011) by Jenny B. Jones
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
I write Christian fiction with a few giggles, quite a bit of sass, and lots of crazy. My novels include the Katie Parker Production series and So Not Happening. I would also like to take credit for Twilight , but somewhere I think I read you're not supposed to lie.
When I'm not typing my heart out (or checking email), I teach at a super-sized high school in Arkansas.
My students are constantly telling me how my teaching changes their lives and turned them away from drugs, gangs, and C-SPAN.
Okay, that's not exactly true.
Some facts that are true include:
I've always been refined!
A. I got my camera confiscated by big boys with guns at the American Embassy in Europe this past summer. O la la!
B. I once worked in a seed mill office and cleaned out mice on a regular basis. Ew.
C. I'm a former drama teacher.
D. I didn't pass my drivers test the first time. Or the second…
E. I attract stray animals like a magnet.
F. I used to assemble and test paint ball guns for a local factory...
Since my current job leaves me with very little free time, I believe in spending my spare hours in meaningful, intellectual pursuits such as:
-watching E!
-updating my status on Facebook
-catching Will Ferrell on YouTube and
-writing my name in the dust on my furniture
I'd love to hear about you, so drop me a note. Or check me out on Facebook.
ABOUT THE BOOK
You're invited to the engagement of the most unlikely couple of the year.
When the funding for Lucy's non-profit job is pulled, she is determined to find out why. Enter Alex Sinclair, former professional football star and heir of Sinclair Enterprises—the primary donor to Lucy's Saving Grace organization. Alex Sinclair has it all . . . except for the votes he needs to win his bid for Congress. Both Lucy and Alex have something the other wants. Despite their mutual dislike, Alex makes Lucy a proposition: pose as his fiancée in return for the money she desperately needs. Bound to a man who isn't quite what he seems, Lucy finds her heart – and her future – on the line.
Save the Date is a spunky romance that will have readers laughing out loud as this dubious pair try to save their careers, their dreams . . . and maybe even a date.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Prologue
It was a good night to get engaged.
The moon was full. The candles lit. And Lucy Wiltshire wore a new black sheath that would have made Audrey Hepburn jealous. Her friends might say it was just another old find from the secondhand shop, but Lucy had known from the moment she'd spied the dress that it had been something more. Found on a tightly crammed rack between an avocado peacoat and an acid-washed denim skirt that had seen one too many Bon Jovi concerts, the dress had just called out to her. Buy me. I'm yours. We belong together.
And buy it she did. Despite the fact that the bodice was a bit tight, and she'd had to let out the waist a few inches, the dress just felt right. It made Lucy want to twirl in her tiny kitchen, letting her kitten heels slide across the gray tile floor.
It was the perfect outfit to wear when getting proposed to. She had dreamed of this day since she was six and had thrown a wedding for Barbie. And now her own Ken doll was four feet away, acting nervous as a man with marriage on his mind and a solitaire in his pocket.
Matthew tugged his navy tie loose and sat down at the kitchen table. "Good day?" Lucy asked, as she put some garlic bread in the oven, humming to herself.
"It was fine." His voice was distracted, his focus on the stack of mail she had yet to move. "What's this?" He held up a gold embellished card.
She glanced his way then quickly turned back to the oven. "It's nothing."
"It looks like a class reunion invitation. I thought you didn't graduate in Charleston."
Her childhood in South Carolina was the last thing she wanted to discuss tonight. Or ever. "Obviously it's a mistake on someone's part." Or a cruel joke. The daughter of a maid, Lucy had been on the very bottom of the social food chain at the elite Montrose Academy. Her mother had cleaned the homes of her classmates. And they had never let her forget Lucy wasn't one of them. But now, back in Charleston, life couldn't be sweeter.
"Or maybe they just want to see you."
Lucy sat down and stared at the man who had asked her out one year ago today. Matt's fingers drumming next to his plate seemed out of sync for someone who was normally as calm as a morning sunrise. She adored his predictability. His sandy-blond hair always parted to the left. His white shirts starched and perfectly creased in the sleeves.
The timer over the stove dinged, and Lucy jumped up to take out the bread. "I hope you're hungry. I made your favorites."
"I noticed."
Lucy threw the bread in a basket and placed it on the table. Grabbing his plate, she loaded it with her homemade noodles, her own secret-recipe marinara sauce, and a salad—easy on the dressing, just like he liked. Lucy could envision them sitting together thirty years from now, sharing a meal and talking about their day.
"Maybe you should go to the reunion." Matt neatly placed his napkin in his lap. "If you're wanting to start that girls' home, you're going to need to rub elbows with as many people in the community as you can."
Lucy watched him as she sat down. "I'll get the funding from somewhere else. That's what federal grants are for. And besides, it's the same night as your award ceremony."
Matt was going to be honored for his charity work with senior citizens. An accountant, he had donated countless hours helping the older folks in Charleston with their taxes and providing free financial counseling. Every day she gave God a big "thank you" for sending Matt her way. He was . . . perfect.
He called his mother twice a week. He led a Bible study and played on a baseball league at church. He read autobiographies and watched CNBC. The guy drove a Volvo. What more could she ask for?
"Lucy?" Matt's face was taut as he reached for her hand.
This was it. She was going to become Mrs. Matthew Campbell. She hoped her lip gloss was still on. And where had she put that camera? If any occasion called for a "extend arm and take your own photo," this was it.
He swallowed and folded his fingers over hers. "I have something I need to talk to you about."
Her vision blurred with unshed tears. They would have a boy and a girl. They'd name the girl Anna, after her mother. He could name the boy. It didn't really matter to her. As long as it wasn't Maynard. After that uncle he liked so much.
"Lucy, we've been together a while now."
"A year," she said. "Our first date was a year today." Which was all part of his thoughtful plan.
His grip loosened on her hand. "And it's been great. I've enjoyed our time together. And I think you are one incredible person."
Matt reached into his pocket.
The ring. He was going for the ring. Marquis, pear, princess, round—she didn't care.
"Matt"—Lucy sniffed—"I want you to know I'm so happy God put you in my life and—"
He opened his hand.
And placed a business card on the table.
Lucy's pink lips clamped tight. Those were not wedding bells pealing in her head right now.
"What is this?" She picked up the card. "Matthew Campbell, senior accountant, Digby, Wallace, and Hinds?"
His smile was hesitant. "I got a job offer."
"Offer?" She ran her finger over his embossed name. "Looks like you've already progressed beyond that. When were you going to tell me?"
"I've tried." He pushed his plate aside. "You've just been so busy with the shelter."
"Residential home," she corrected. "Saving Grace is a residential home."
"You've been so occupied with getting that started, I haven't been able to get your attention lately."
"You've got it now." Something was very wrong here. "What's going on? I've never heard of these people. Are they new?"
His green eyes focused on the candle in the center of the table. "No. They're quite old, in fact. Very prestigious."
"And where are they old and prestigious?" She couldn't relocate. He knew that. Not with mere months before Saving Grace opened. Was he going to move—without her?
"In Dallas."
Lucy's heart fell somewhere to the vicinity of her shoes. "When are you leaving?"
He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Lucy."
"You're going to have to do better than that."
"I think we've been moving too fast."
Lucy thought of the bridal magazines under her bed. "Then let's slow it down. I'm okay with that. I think if we just—"
"I'm leaving next week. This is an opportunity I can't pass up." He spoke low and patiently, as if talking to a child. "I think we need to take a break. My relocating is the perfect opportunity to give ourselves some space and see what happens."
The white-picket fence was collapsing before her. Was it too much to ask, God? Was it too much to want a family of my own? To finally have that home? For the first time in her life, she had let herself believe she could have it all.
Her laugh sounded pitiful and strained. "Can you believe"— tears clogged her throat—"that I thought you were going to propose tonight?"
Matt stood up, walked over to her, and kissed her forehead. "I think I should probably go."
She grabbed his hand as he leaned away. "Is it me?" Because wasn't it always her?
Reaching out, he pushed a stray curl behind her ear. "No. I know you're ready for a permanent commitment, but I have to put my career first now—whether I want to or not."
The smells in the room—the food, her life decaying—made her want to throw up. "I could wait, you know. We could do the long distance thing."
"I'm sorry." He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. "For what it's worth, I believe you're the right girl—it's just not the right time."
Two minutes later Lucy stood in her living room and watched Matt drive away.
No ring. No engagement.
No happily ever after.
She walked upstairs to her bedroom.
Sucked it in as she unzipped the Audrey Hepburn dress.
Peeled it off her body.
And threw it out the window.
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing Save The Date Thomas Nelson (February 1, 2011) by Jenny B. Jones
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
I write Christian fiction with a few giggles, quite a bit of sass, and lots of crazy. My novels include the Katie Parker Production series and So Not Happening. I would also like to take credit for Twilight , but somewhere I think I read you're not supposed to lie.
When I'm not typing my heart out (or checking email), I teach at a super-sized high school in Arkansas.
My students are constantly telling me how my teaching changes their lives and turned them away from drugs, gangs, and C-SPAN.
Okay, that's not exactly true.
Some facts that are true include:
I've always been refined!
A. I got my camera confiscated by big boys with guns at the American Embassy in Europe this past summer. O la la!
B. I once worked in a seed mill office and cleaned out mice on a regular basis. Ew.
C. I'm a former drama teacher.
D. I didn't pass my drivers test the first time. Or the second…
E. I attract stray animals like a magnet.
F. I used to assemble and test paint ball guns for a local factory...
Since my current job leaves me with very little free time, I believe in spending my spare hours in meaningful, intellectual pursuits such as:
-watching E!
-updating my status on Facebook
-catching Will Ferrell on YouTube and
-writing my name in the dust on my furniture
I'd love to hear about you, so drop me a note. Or check me out on Facebook.
ABOUT THE BOOK
You're invited to the engagement of the most unlikely couple of the year. When the funding for Lucy's non-profit job is pulled, she is determined to find out why. Enter Alex Sinclair, former professional football star and heir of Sinclair Enterprises—the primary donor to Lucy's Saving Grace organization. Alex Sinclair has it all . . . except for the votes he needs to win his bid for Congress. Both Lucy and Alex have something the other wants. Despite their mutual dislike, Alex makes Lucy a proposition: pose as his fiancée in return for the money she desperately needs. Bound to a man who isn't quite what he seems, Lucy finds her heart – and her future – on the line.
Save the Date is a spunky romance that will have readers laughing out loud as this dubious pair try to save their careers, their dreams . . . and maybe even a date.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Prologue
It was a good night to get engaged.
The moon was full. The candles lit. And Lucy Wiltshire wore a new black sheath that would have made Audrey Hepburn jealous. Her friends might say it was just another old find from the secondhand shop, but Lucy had known from the moment she'd spied the dress that it had been something more. Found on a tightly crammed rack between an avocado peacoat and an acid-washed denim skirt that had seen one too many Bon Jovi concerts, the dress had just called out to her. Buy me. I'm yours. We belong together.
And buy it she did. Despite the fact that the bodice was a bit tight, and she'd had to let out the waist a few inches, the dress just felt right. It made Lucy want to twirl in her tiny kitchen, letting her kitten heels slide across the gray tile floor.
It was the perfect outfit to wear when getting proposed to. She had dreamed of this day since she was six and had thrown a wedding for Barbie. And now her own Ken doll was four feet away, acting nervous as a man with marriage on his mind and a solitaire in his pocket.
Matthew tugged his navy tie loose and sat down at the kitchen table. "Good day?" Lucy asked, as she put some garlic bread in the oven, humming to herself.
"It was fine." His voice was distracted, his focus on the stack of mail she had yet to move. "What's this?" He held up a gold embellished card.
She glanced his way then quickly turned back to the oven. "It's nothing."
"It looks like a class reunion invitation. I thought you didn't graduate in Charleston."
Her childhood in South Carolina was the last thing she wanted to discuss tonight. Or ever. "Obviously it's a mistake on someone's part." Or a cruel joke. The daughter of a maid, Lucy had been on the very bottom of the social food chain at the elite Montrose Academy. Her mother had cleaned the homes of her classmates. And they had never let her forget Lucy wasn't one of them. But now, back in Charleston, life couldn't be sweeter.
"Or maybe they just want to see you."
Lucy sat down and stared at the man who had asked her out one year ago today. Matt's fingers drumming next to his plate seemed out of sync for someone who was normally as calm as a morning sunrise. She adored his predictability. His sandy-blond hair always parted to the left. His white shirts starched and perfectly creased in the sleeves.
The timer over the stove dinged, and Lucy jumped up to take out the bread. "I hope you're hungry. I made your favorites."
"I noticed."
Lucy threw the bread in a basket and placed it on the table. Grabbing his plate, she loaded it with her homemade noodles, her own secret-recipe marinara sauce, and a salad—easy on the dressing, just like he liked. Lucy could envision them sitting together thirty years from now, sharing a meal and talking about their day.
"Maybe you should go to the reunion." Matt neatly placed his napkin in his lap. "If you're wanting to start that girls' home, you're going to need to rub elbows with as many people in the community as you can."
Lucy watched him as she sat down. "I'll get the funding from somewhere else. That's what federal grants are for. And besides, it's the same night as your award ceremony."
Matt was going to be honored for his charity work with senior citizens. An accountant, he had donated countless hours helping the older folks in Charleston with their taxes and providing free financial counseling. Every day she gave God a big "thank you" for sending Matt her way. He was . . . perfect.
He called his mother twice a week. He led a Bible study and played on a baseball league at church. He read autobiographies and watched CNBC. The guy drove a Volvo. What more could she ask for?
"Lucy?" Matt's face was taut as he reached for her hand.
This was it. She was going to become Mrs. Matthew Campbell. She hoped her lip gloss was still on. And where had she put that camera? If any occasion called for a "extend arm and take your own photo," this was it.
He swallowed and folded his fingers over hers. "I have something I need to talk to you about."
Her vision blurred with unshed tears. They would have a boy and a girl. They'd name the girl Anna, after her mother. He could name the boy. It didn't really matter to her. As long as it wasn't Maynard. After that uncle he liked so much.
"Lucy, we've been together a while now."
"A year," she said. "Our first date was a year today." Which was all part of his thoughtful plan.
His grip loosened on her hand. "And it's been great. I've enjoyed our time together. And I think you are one incredible person."
Matt reached into his pocket.
The ring. He was going for the ring. Marquis, pear, princess, round—she didn't care.
"Matt"—Lucy sniffed—"I want you to know I'm so happy God put you in my life and—"
He opened his hand.
And placed a business card on the table.
Lucy's pink lips clamped tight. Those were not wedding bells pealing in her head right now.
"What is this?" She picked up the card. "Matthew Campbell, senior accountant, Digby, Wallace, and Hinds?"
His smile was hesitant. "I got a job offer."
"Offer?" She ran her finger over his embossed name. "Looks like you've already progressed beyond that. When were you going to tell me?"
"I've tried." He pushed his plate aside. "You've just been so busy with the shelter."
"Residential home," she corrected. "Saving Grace is a residential home."
"You've been so occupied with getting that started, I haven't been able to get your attention lately."
"You've got it now." Something was very wrong here. "What's going on? I've never heard of these people. Are they new?"
His green eyes focused on the candle in the center of the table. "No. They're quite old, in fact. Very prestigious."
"And where are they old and prestigious?" She couldn't relocate. He knew that. Not with mere months before Saving Grace opened. Was he going to move—without her?
"In Dallas."
Lucy's heart fell somewhere to the vicinity of her shoes. "When are you leaving?"
He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Lucy."
"You're going to have to do better than that."
"I think we've been moving too fast."
Lucy thought of the bridal magazines under her bed. "Then let's slow it down. I'm okay with that. I think if we just—"
"I'm leaving next week. This is an opportunity I can't pass up." He spoke low and patiently, as if talking to a child. "I think we need to take a break. My relocating is the perfect opportunity to give ourselves some space and see what happens."
The white-picket fence was collapsing before her. Was it too much to ask, God? Was it too much to want a family of my own? To finally have that home? For the first time in her life, she had let herself believe she could have it all.
Her laugh sounded pitiful and strained. "Can you believe"— tears clogged her throat—"that I thought you were going to propose tonight?"
Matt stood up, walked over to her, and kissed her forehead. "I think I should probably go."
She grabbed his hand as he leaned away. "Is it me?" Because wasn't it always her?
Reaching out, he pushed a stray curl behind her ear. "No. I know you're ready for a permanent commitment, but I have to put my career first now—whether I want to or not."
The smells in the room—the food, her life decaying—made her want to throw up. "I could wait, you know. We could do the long distance thing."
"I'm sorry." He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. "For what it's worth, I believe you're the right girl—it's just not the right time."
Two minutes later Lucy stood in her living room and watched Matt drive away.
No ring. No engagement.
No happily ever after.
She walked upstairs to her bedroom.
Sucked it in as she unzipped the Audrey Hepburn dress.
Peeled it off her body.
And threw it out the window.
February 20, 2011
Excerpt - A DAD OF HIS OWN by Gail Gaymer Martin
A Dad of His Ownby
Gail Gaymer Martin
With his Dreams Come True foundation, Ethan Fox turns wishes into reality. Amazing trips. Meeting heroes. But Ethan has come to care deeply for a sick boy whose dream is…a dad. And not just any dad: Ethan. Though little Cooper has a great chance of getting well, widowed Ethan can't chance loving—and losing—again. Yet he's spending time with the sweet boy and his lovely, strong single mother, Lexie Carlson. Could a little boy's wish for a dad of his own come true after all?
Excerpt of chapter one:
Lexie Carlson peeked into the meeting room of Mothers of Special Kids. She hated being late, and the reason for her delay had plunged her spirit to the pits. Despite trying to slip in unnoticed, her friend Kelsey Rhodes, the meeting moderator, spotted her. She sidled the few steps to Lexie's side, a frown etched on her face. "Something wrong?"
Lexie shook her head, uncomfortable with Kelsey's attention, especially with the intriguing guest speaker standing nearby. A grin curved his full lips, and smile lines crinkled the edge of his gray eyes canopied by the thick blond lashes. His honey-colored hair glinted with copper highlights.
As much as she wanted to shift the focus, she leaned closer to Kelsey, managing as pleasant a look as she could. "No. Just a phone call." Hoping to end the questions, she slipped into a nearby chair and turned to the front.
Thank goodness Kelsey had moved away, relief spreading across her face. Relief. Lexie welcomed the expression from women like her who faced life with seriously ill children. Their support brought her here weekly and had become her mainstay.
"As I was saying," Kelsey said, sending a teasing smile her way, "I'm glad so many of you are here today since we have a special guest." She motioned toward the good-looking man a few feet away from Lexie.
Something about him captured Lexie's attention. His gray eyes glided past her with a twinkle that matched his grin. A giddy feeling swept over her, causing her to grin back. The ridiculous reaction unsettled her.
Kelsey beamed at the women. "This is Ethan Fox, who sits on the board of Dreams Come True Foundation, and he's here to tell us about a wonderful opportunity for you and your family."
He swung his hand in a brief wave. "Happy to be here." The women applauded.
Lexie liked his voice, warm and rich as a cinnamon bun fresh from the oven. Guilty pleasure swept over her at the thought of the sugary treat. It was one of her vices.
Kelsey motioned Ethan forward. He strode to the center, slipping one hand into his pocket while the other clutched what appeared to be a stack of brochures. His shirt had thin blue stripes on a white background. Lexie liked the way he coordinated his attire with his beige and navy tie. He looked like a spit-polished executive minus the suit jacket.
Ethan's gaze locked with hers and he smiled.
A flush warmed her neck, and Lexie glanced away, but the look hadn't escaped her friend. She ambled closer to Lexie and arched a brow. Lexie drew in a breath and gave a quick shake of her head, immediately wishing she hadn't responded to Kelsey's implication.
"I hope most of you have heard about the Dreams Come True Foundation." Ethan scanned the group of women.
His comment yanked Lexie's attention. She'd never heard of his organization. She surveyed her peers to see how many had. Only a few women nodded. Most gave Ethan blank looks that probably matched hers.
He shook his head. "I'm disappointed. I had hoped most of you knew about Dreams Come True, but this makes me especially pleased that I'm here today." He handed Kelsey a stack of brochures and refocused on the women.
Kelsey stood at the end of the first row of chairs and counted out the brochures, but Lexie didn't keep her attention on her friend for long. She studied Ethan Fox.
"Dreams Come True is a foundation that provides children who are surviving a serious illness with the means to reach a dream. By this, I mean the foundation plans, arranges and finances your child's dream. This is not a national organization, but one founded in South Oakland County by an anonymous donor. He doesn't serve on the board, and he is contacted solely through an attorney."
Kelsey appeared, slipped a brochure into her lap and settled into the empty chair beside Lexie. She avoided Kelsey's direct look. She wanted no more arched eyebrows. Instead she scanned the brochure as she listened to Ethan.
Sincerity always captured her attention, and she suspected the man had a love for what he did for kids, but the foundation sounded like a fairytale, where happy endings were the norm. Long ago Lexie had given up wishing on a star and singing down a well. Her prince had galloped right past, taking the glass slipper with him, and at this point in her life, she didn't expect another heroic knight to pass by.
Ava Darnell's hand shot up.
Lexie liked Ava, although her curiosity sometimes took precedence over wisdom. Ava's son and hers shared a similar disease. They'd both experienced the ups and downs of cancer, and being alone, Lexie empathized with Ava's struggle as a single mom.
Ethan gave her an acknowledging nod, and Ava lowered her hand. "Does the donor live in the area?"
Ethan lifted his shoulders. "I don't know for sure, but I suspect he does."
"Do you think he's a teacher or something? Someone who knows—"
"Those of us on the board have no other information. As I said, he's an anonymous donor." A frown flashed across his face. "But that doesn't diminish the wonderful opportunity that you have as parents to apply for one of these gifts."
Ava lowered her head, but her mumble could still be heard. "But why? I don't get it."
Kelsey rose from her chair and took a step closer to Ethan. "It's difficult for us to imagine such kindness from a stranger, someone who doesn't know our children, but we appreciate learning about this wonderful charity."
Lexie tried to cover her grin. Kelsey served as the meetings troubleshooter even when she wasn't the moderator. Lexie wished she had Kelsey's knack to calm a crisis and soothe people's hearts, but she approached trouble with common sense. Avoid emotion. That's how she'd survived.
Ethan's expression relaxed. He gave Kelsey a pleasant nod as she settled back in her seat. "It is a charity of a sort, but please don't think that your family's income is considered. This donor wants to give a sick child something to look forward to. To experience something that seems—or seemed—impossible. It's more than a charity. You have all been faced with family adversity, watching your children suffer from a variety of serious illnesses. The Bible tells us to be imitators of God and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us." His gaze scanned the women. "I think that's what the donor has done. He wants to bring unexpected joy into your children's lives and into yours."
Tears welled in Lexie's eyes. Though she had never been a person of faith, what he said made sense. Sick children deserved happiness. So did their parents, but most of all, the point he made struck her. Charity was more than generosity. It was giving from the heart as an act of love. That's what parents did for their sick children. They gave, never expecting any repayment except to see their children well and happy. That was payment enough.
Surprised by her reaction, she brushed tears from her eyes, and when she focused again, Ethan's expression alerted her he'd noticed. The man seemed tuned to people's needs. Though the attribute was admirable, it didn't set well with her. She liked to keep her problems private. Lexie dropped her musing. What difference did it make what he thought?
Another hand shot up. "What kind of dreams are you talking about?"
Ethan's eyes sparkled. "Glad you asked. Some kids want to meet a sports figure or a popular singer or band. Young girls often want to meet Hanson or the Jonas Brothers, for example. And vacations. Many children want to see the ocean or mountains or even go on a Caribbean cruise. Others want to visit a popular amusement park. It can be anything."
"And you can arrange that?"
Ethan grinned at the woman, a newcomer, in the front row.
Lexie's pulse zinged.
Ethan's gaze swept the audience. "We sure can. Sometimes the dream is as simple as learning to ride a horse or riding on a fire truck. Every dream, no matter how simple or elaborate, we do our best to make it come true."
Murmurs rose from the women, including Kelsey, who joked about her dream to have her bills paid. Lexie liked that dream herself.
While other women posed their questions, Lexie sank into her own thoughts. She pictured Cooper asking her if he could go to school today. That was his dream, and it hurt to tell him no once again. He was in the second grade. Time flew. It seemed only yesterday he'd been a toddler. She ached thinking of how much school Cooper had missed since his diagnosis. She'd asked herself why so often, but no answer came, and she didn't expect one. Her life had been filled with unanswered questions, but she wasn't one to pity herself, and she didn't plan to start feeling that way now.
Cooper was her joy. Her son. No illness could take that away. A wave of shame rolled through her. She'd made the worst mistake of her life falling in love with his father, and afterward she'd dealt with more than her share of sorrow before Cooper's birth. But once she looked into her son's face, she melted and knew she'd made the right choice. Even now with everything that had happened.
Lexie flipped open the brochure. Thoughts of taking Cooper on a trip to one of the major amusement parks or to the pyramids in Egypt struck her as impossible. Yes, she loved to dream, too, but dreams only led to disappointment. Oh, how she knew that. She pressed her lips together, forcing back the sudden surge of emotion that caught in her throat.
More random questions were posed while Lexie sank deeper into her thoughts. She envisioned Cooper healthy and happy, having all his dreams come true. Her longing sizzled to frustration. She'd asked herself many times if Cooper's illness had been punishment for her bad choices. What about Jesus? What about the loving God she'd heard so much about? Would God hurt a child to get even with a parent? A loving God would not. She forced her thoughts away from her eternal struggle as her pulse slowed. Time to cling to her optimism. She coped better that way.
"If there are no more questions, let's give Mr. Fox a round of applause for coming here to share this wonderful opportunity."
Kelsey's voice jerked her to the present. Surprised that she'd returned to the front of the room without her awareness, Lexie's dropped the brochure to her lap and clapped her hands with the other women, her gaze on the man with the engaging smile.
Kelsey stepped away as a few members surrounded Ethan, and drawing up her shoulders, Lexie rose and slipped the leaflet into her shoulder bag. She glanced at her watch, thinking how quickly the time had passed before she remembered she'd been late for the meeting. She'd missed the women's time to share their weekly ups and downs. Today she appreciated not having to add their emotional needs to her own.
As she reached for her bag, she felt Kelsey's hand rest against her shoulder. "Interesting idea?"
Her mind pulled itself from her muddle of thoughts. "What idea?"
"Dreams Come True."
A moment passed before she found a response. "For some, it is." She grabbed her purse and then looked up. "Cooper's not well enough yet."
Kelsey's face sank to a frown, but as her expression flickered, her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, Lexie, I should have guessed. The phone call. Was it bad news?"
"No worse than usual. It was the doctor, but nothing drastic. Just discouraging. Cooper's last treatment didn't show any improvement. His white cells are still too low." Saying it made it too real. Her chest emptied of air, but she grasped the positive. It could have been worse. The test could have shown he'd regressed and it hadn't.
"I'm sorry the news wasn't better."
"It's part of life, right?" She curled her arm around Kelsey's back. "How's Lucy doing?"
"So far so good. Tumors are shrinking. You know how it is. It all takes time." She gave Lexie a squeeze and lowered her arm. "Speaking of time, it's shopping day for me. Groceries. Pharmacy. Service station." Her head bobbed as she listed
her tasks. "So I need to run, and…" A playful grin curved her mouth. "Sure you do."
"Maybe you could wait until Ethan's finished before leaving. I hate to rush off without seeing him out of the building."
"Good planning, Kelsey." Lexie shook her head at her friend's obvious plot.
"Thanks." Kelsey wiggled her fingers in a silly goodbye. "I saw the eye contact." The words flew over her shoulder.
Before Lexie could rebut the insinuation, she'd vanished beyond the doorway.
Lexie tossed the strap of her bag over her shoulder and rocked back on her heels, eyeing Ethan as he spoke to the last woman. They seemed so eager for information, and part of her wished she could be as enthusiastic.
Turning her back on them, she dealt with her feelings as she dug into her shoulder bag for her car keys. Brain tumors. Leukemia. Heart disorders. So many illnesses were part of life for the people who attended. Yet some had higher hopes than others. Some children were in remission. Some weren't—like Cooper. But Cooper could be worse, and she had to remember that. No progress was better than his exacerbating. Big strides were wonderful, but small steps moved them forward. She'd learned to find joy in small steps. Each time she looked into Cooper's face her heart filled with the same kind of happiness.
When she found her keys, Lexie stepped back and smacked against someone. As she spun around to apologize, her shoulder bag slipped down her arm and dropped to the floor beside a pair of men's shoes.
"Sorry about that." Ethan bent to retrieve her purse. He smiled as he rose. "What do you carry in that thing? A wrench?"
Lexie gathered her composure and managed a friendly smile. "You never know when you'll need one."
Ethan chuckled and returned her bag. "You're a woman after my own heart. Always be prepared."
If only she were. Lexie's pulse escalated. "Thanks, and it was my fault, you know." She slid her bag onto her shoulder again, realizing it was heavy.
"Michigan has the no-fault ruling."
"That's for cars." Silly talk, but she enjoyed it.
Ethan rested his hand on the back of a chair. "No men in this group, I see."
"The M in MOSK stands for mothers. Mothers of Special Kids." Still, he'd made a point. She studied his face, wondering why support for men interested him. "A number of us are single mothers, and the married women haven't asked." But the question did arouse her curiosity. "You're a man. Do you think—"
"Glad you noticed." A twinkle lit his eyes.
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February 18, 2011
Excerpt - Keeping Guard by Christy Barritt
Keeping Guard by
Christy Barritt
"You can't hide from me."
Her anonymous stalker's threats are getting scarier and scarier. Now Kylie Summers fears for her life. She flees her home for the protection of a former military man in a small Virginia town. But her brother's handsome best friend already has a long list of obligations. Kylie knows she's intruding on Nate Richardson's life. Even though he promises to keep her safe, Nate's keeping her at arm's length emotionally. Until her stalker emerges from the shadows, forcing Nate to choose between keeping guard over his wary heart—or Kylie.
Excerpt of chapter one:
The cold rain felt like daggers penetrating Kylie Summers's skin. She tried to escape its torrent, but the drops kept chasing her, even as she retreated under the awning of the brick-fronted restaurant.
She pounded on the glass door again, desperate to get out of the storm. "Hello?"
The red neon sign above read The Revolutionary Grill. Yes, this was the place where her brother had instructed her to come to hide out. So where was Nate Richardson, her brother's best friend and the restaurant's owner? She shielded her eyes from the overhead streetlight and peered through the door. Inside, the place looked dead. Lights out, chairs on tables, staff gone.
It was almost midnight. She sighed and kicked the door. What now? She knew no one else in the historic town. She'd dropped her cell phone in a puddle of water two rest stops ago and she had exactly twenty-six dollars in her wallet.
A chill that had nothing to do with the weather crawled up her arms, an all too familiar feeling. She swung around, her wet hair slapping her in the face. She backed up against the rough brick wall that flanked the door. Her gaze frantically searched the black nighttime landscape. Lightning streaked across the sky over the river beyond the parking lot. Thunder boomed. A lone pier stretched like a decrepit arm into the night. Lights from houses across the water stared at her.
Kylie pushed herself harder against the wall, wishing she could sink into it. Her gaze continued to dart across the landscape. What if the man who'd given her nightmares for the past six months was out there? The darkness and rain might cloak him, make him disappear. He could have followed her.
He always followed her.
Fear clenched her spine. Her breathing became rapid, uneven. She couldn't have another panic attack. Not now. Not here.
She had to find another entrance to this building. She had to figure out a way to find Nate. That, or she'd spend the night soaking wet in her car.
Nate had been expecting her to arrive three hours ago, a reasonable time for stores and businesses to still be open. But the treacherous weather had put her behind schedule, and he must have closed up shop and headed home for the night. She couldn't blame him.
March rain pelted her as she darted from the front of the building. Her foot sank into a deep puddle, splashing icy water up her pant leg. Her shivers intensified. An alleyway lurked between the restaurant and gift shop next door. If she could cut through, maybe she'd find a back entrance to the grill.
Her throat went dry at the thought. Still, she had no choice.
Besides, the man couldn't have followed her here. She would have noticed.
Right?
She stepped onto the cobblestone street, dodging past trash cans, old buckets and a ladder.
She looked behind her. No one. Her heart continued to race.
Maybe all of this had been a bad idea. She should have stayed in Kentucky.
But she'd been hunted there and felt like a deer in the middle of an open field. No, her old life had to be put on hold. She couldn't continue living as she'd been for the past few months. Yet even here in Virginia she couldn't shake the feeling of unseen eyes watching her every move.
Pictures of the man flashed through her head in sync with the lightning around her. Pictures of his shadowed face, his hooded profile.
Her heart rate quickened. She tried to push the thoughts aside.
The end of the alleyway neared. She picked up her pace. Sheets of rain plastered her hair to her face.
She rounded the corner and spotted a black door with an alcove. She ducked into the space and pounded her fist against the door. Please be there, Nate! The thought of going through that alley again caused fear to slither up her spine.
She waited. The only sound she heard was that of the rain hitting the ground like bullets. Occasionally, thunder shook the air.
Nothing.
She knocked again. Why wasn't he answering? She needed a Plan B. Only she didn't have one. She barely had a Plan A.
She clenched her eyes closed. How could one person control her life like this? Why did she let him have this power?
She waited in silence, hoping—praying—Nate would hear her.
He didn't. No one did. Not even God lately, it seemed.
She'd have to run back to her car, her only shelter. She could do that. She had to. Once protected behind locked doors, she'd figure out a plan. She took a tentative step into the rain.
A figure appeared around the corner from the alley. A hood concealed his face. A hood. It couldn't be…
He had found her.
The man who'd haunted her nightmares for months had finally caught her. Alone.
Nate Richardson spotted the woman at his back door. His relief instantly turned to a mix of worry and irritation. He'd been expecting her three hours ago and she hadn't bothered to call or answer her cell phone. About thirty minutes ago, he'd called her brother, and now Bruce sounded ready to drive out to Virginia himself.
"Kylie." Nate stepped forward, keeping his hood over his forehead so his face would at least stay semidry.
The woman's eyes widened and she shrank back. "Stay away from me."
The rain poured onto his face, washing into his eyes. Nate stepped forward, trying to get out of the downpour. He needed to get her inside, to call her brother.
"I mean it! Stay back!" Her hands shot out in front of her.
"What are you—"
Before he could finish his sentence, Kylie darted across the parking lot.
Bruce had said his sister needed help. He didn't tell him that the woman was a mental case. What exactly had he gotten himself into by promising Bruce this woman could stay here and help him at his restaurant?
Nate watched her retreat for a moment while contemplating his next move. Chasing her might further freak her out. But allowing her to run across the pothole-filled parking lot in this weather could cause her to twist an ankle or worse.
What would Bruce want him to do?
He sighed and began a steady jog to catch her. Rain sloshed in his face. He let his sweatshirt hood drop behind him. Rain soaked his clothing now, so the covering did him no good.
Nate saw Kylie glance back at him and then speed up. Her long hair appeared plastered to her blue blouse and her heels looked impossible to run in.
Then what Nate had feared would happen happened. Her body lurched forward and she sprawled on the asphalt.
He was only a few steps away from helping her. He quickened his pace.
Kylie turned toward him, panic clearly written in her wide eyes and oval-shaped mouth. "No! Stay away!" She tried to army-crawl forward, away from him.
The woman was a fighter. He'd give her credit for that. He just didn't know what she was fighting against.
"Kylie, stop freaking out. I just want to help."
"Stay away from me."
"Kylie, it's me—"
As soon as the words left his mouth, something hard came down across his head. His world began to spin and then went black.
Kylie glanced at the white-haired woman who glared down at her while slapping a rolling pin in her hand. Kylie closed her eyes as tension drained away. Maybe God was watching out for her after all.
"Thank you," Kylie whispered, before realizing she couldn't be heard over the rainfall. She wiped some moisture from her face and said, a little louder, "Thank you!"
The woman continued to stare down at the man, knocked out flat on the ground, and shook her head. "I looked out my window and saw you being chased. I had to help."
Kylie gawked at the man, seeing his face for the first time since this whole ordeal began. She'd never imagined the man who'd given her so many nightmares would be handsome. In her mind, he'd had a long, crooked nose, tangled teeth, hollow eyes. This man had square, even features, sandy-colored hair. Kylie couldn't be sure in the darkness, but he might even be tanned.
She pulled her eyes away—at least she tried to. She needed to call the police. Let them know that this man should be arrested. Maybe she could finally live again. Go back to Kentucky. Focus on her business. Rebuild her life.
Kylie's attention turned to the woman with the rolling pin. She continued to stand over the man, shaking her head as if she pitied the poor soul who tried to mess with her. The woman might have white hair but obviously she had an iron will.
If only Kylie could be that strong.
The woman glanced at her with a perceptive gaze that made Kylie instantly trust her. "I never thought Nate Richardson would be the type to do this," the woman said. "He always seemed like such a nice young man. Of course, I guess that's what everyone says about criminals."
Kylie sprang from the ground, adrenaline—and panic—rushing through each limb. "Nate Richardson? Did you say Nate Richardson?"
"Why, yes, I did. Nate Richardson." The woman nodded down to the man. "He owns the Revolutionary Grill. I was making pies for tomorrow's dessert menu when I saw him chasing you. That's why I had my rolling pin handy. A good thing, huh?"
Kylie squeezed her eyes shut. What was wrong with her? Was she so paranoid that she'd just allowed her brother's best friend to be assaulted? She might as well just leave her bags in the car and find somewhere else to hide. This man wouldn't want her to be around anymore after this.
"Are you okay, dear?" The kindly, grandmother-like figure peered at her.
Kylie shook her head. "I'm afraid there's been a terrible misunderstanding. This man was trying to help me. I just didn't realize it."
"That sounds more like the Nate I know." The woman nodded, not appearing the least bit ruffled. "He seems tough on the outside but inside, he's sweeter than my shoofly pie."
Kylie's hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the urge to cry in horror or let her mouth drop open in shock. She had no idea what to do next. Or where to go. Or how to break the news to her brother, Bruce.
"Let's get him out of the rain until he regains consciousness." The woman tucked her rolling pin under her arm and bent down as if she were going to haul him away herself.
Yes, they did need to get him out of the rain, but just how they'd do that perplexed Kylie. The man probably weighed two hundred pounds. The rolling pin mercenary couldn't weigh half that, even out in this storm soaking wet, and Kylie's own one hundred pounds wouldn't offer much help.
"I'm Darlene, by the way." The woman seemed to think better of pulling the man by herself and extended her hand toward Kylie.
Kylie shook it briefly. "My brother is a friend of Nate's. I'm Kylie."
"I just live right there." Darlene pointed to a white clapboard home only a few feet away. "So let's take him inside. I'll get my husband, Harvey, to help. It may take a moment. He'll have to put his dentures in first."
As the woman retreated inside, the rain began to taper.
Kylie knelt down beside Nate and flinched at the nasty bruise on his forehead. She should have known the man was Nate. But his hood had brought back so many bad memories. Fear had conquered her thoughts, as it often did lately.
Kylie closed her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Nate."
"You should be."
Her eyes snapped open in time to see Nate's eyelids flicker. He rubbed his forehead and attempted to sit up, the sudden lines around his eyes revealing his discomfort. Once he propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes narrowed at her.
"What's wrong with you? Kylie, I presume?"
Kylie opened her mouth, tried to form words. But how did one explain to a stranger the events of the last six months? How could she summarize the terror she'd felt without looking crazy?
"I know it will sound insane, but—" "Wait till I tell the guys at Bible study about this." A man interrupted as he approached them, lumbering along beside
Darlene, a huge grin stretched across his face. "Nate Richardson getting conked in the head by a girl."
Must be Harvey. Kylie looked closer. The man had teeth—nice, white, straight ones. He must have put his dentures in.
Darlene swatted him on the arm. "Harvey, don't give the boy a hard time. It's not his fault that I'm stealth-like."
"Stealth-like? You couldn't sneak up on an elephant. Beats me how someone who weighs so little can make so much noise stomping around the house all the time."
Harvey stuck his hand out to Kylie. "You must be the girl that Nate's fallen for."
"Just give me a hand, Harvey, and drop the comedy routine for a few minutes, will you?" Nate reached his hand up, grimacing at the movement.
Harvey still grinned as he pulled the broad ex-Coast Guardsman from the sopping ground. Nate's free hand still grasped his head and his eyes locked on Darlene and her rolling pin.
Darlene shook her head and raised her hands in the air in innocence. "Don't give me a dirty look. I was only trying to help the poor girl you were chasing. How was I to know it was a misunderstanding?"
"I just want to get out of this rain and lie down. Do you mind?" The commanding look in his eyes left little room for argument—from any one of the three.
Kylie shrank back and nodded. "Getting out of the rain sounds like a good idea to me, too."
Nate raised a finger as if he were going to lecture her, but then pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Right this way."
He took a step and stopped. His hands went to his temple.
"I better walk you back," Harvey said. "You need to go to the hospital?"
"No, I just need some aspirin and a rewind button."
"I can help with the aspirin but that's about it." Harvey squeezed his shoulder. "You'll have to get that rewind button from your magic genie." He paused and pretended to rub an imaginary genie lamp.
Nate put his hand on Harvey's shoulder. "If only I had one, Harv."
Kylie wrapped her arms over her chest and tried to will her teeth to stop chattering. They wouldn't. Nor would her limbs stop shaking. This whole night was just too much. Yes, she'd take one of those rewind buttons also. If only they existed.
Nate knew he shouldn't snap at the woman. She hadn't been the one to hit him over the head with a rolling pin. But if she had waited just a moment to have a logical conversation then maybe she would never have run away and caused this whole fiasco. To Nate, logic and reasoning were the solution to…well, just about everything.
Still, he couldn't deny that Kylie looked just about as skittish as a cornered cat. Maybe he should have just let her run. Maybe he shouldn't have gone after her.
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February 17, 2011
Excerpt - 10 Lessons from a Former Fat Girl by Amy Parham
Camy here:: I really liked this book! The book addresses weight loss and weight management from both a practical and deeply spiritual standpoint. Her writing style is chatty and easy to read, like a friend talking to you. Anyone wanting a lifestyle change will appreciate this book and the truths inside--both about weight loss and also dependence upon God.
Today's Wild Card author is:
Amy Parham
and the book:
10 Lessons from a Former Fat Girl
Harvest House Publishers (January 1, 2011)
***Special thanks to Christianne Debysingh, Senior Publicist, Harvest House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Amy Parham co-authored with her husband, Phil, The 90-Day Fitness Challenge and The 90-Day Fitness Challenge DVD. She and Phil were contestants on Season 6 of NBC's The Biggest Loser. Over a seven-month period, they recorded the highest percentage of weight loss of any couple in the program's history. Married for more than 20 years, they live in South Carolina with their three boys, Austin, Pearson, and Rhett.
Visit the author's website.
SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:
Former fat girl Amy Parham offers a practical, proven plan for changing not only the fat-girl body but also the fat-girl mentality. Focusing on the mental ,emotional, and spiritual aspects of our relationship with food and exercise, Amy shows how readers can make this a healthy partnership that brings permanent change.
Product Details:
List Price: $11.99
Paperback: 192 pages
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (January 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0736938656
ISBN-13: 978-0736938655
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
We All Have an Empty Place
We're all searching for something to fill up what I like to call that big, God-shaped hole in our souls. Some people use alcohol, or sex, or their children, or food, or money, or music, or heroin. A lot of people even use the concept of God itself. I could go on and on. I used to know a girl who used shoes. She had over two-hundred pairs. But it's all the same thing, really. People, for some stupid reason, think they can escape their sorrows.
— Tiffanie DeBartolo, God-Shaped Hole
My earliest memories were such happy ones. Mom had dinner on the table when Dad came home from work, and my two sisters and I laughed and talked about our day with our parents. It was the best feeling. Everything about our family felt so right and secure. I remember Mom walking me to kindergarten every day at a church around the corner from my house. In that same church parking lot, my dad taught me how to ride a bike without training wheels. He also taught me to fly a kite, and with his help, I won a blue ribbon in a kite-flying competition at my school.
I had my own bedroom with a yellow gingham canopy bed and a playhouse in the backyard. There was also a dogwood tree that I climbed all the time. My best friend, Teresa, lived across the street, and my grandparents lived nearby. Life was good and felt normal, but when I turned eight years old, my seemingly perfect life changed forever.
A Growing Hole
Dad quit his longtime job at a local radio station in South Carolina to pursue a job at another radio station in West Palm Beach, Florida. We had to sell our house immediately and move to what seemed to me to be a different planet. I will never forget the image of Teresa and me standing by the "For Sale" sign in our front yard. We bawled our eyes out and held each other so tight because we knew we might not ever see each other again.
When we got to Florida, the five of us moved into a tiny apartment. There was nothing wrong with the apartment, but I was uncomfortable because I was used to living in a larger space and having a big yard to play in. My sisters and I barely had enough room to squeeze past each other on the way to the bathroom. My new school was huge compared to the one I attended in South Carolina. But the worst thing was that while everyone knew and loved me at my old school, I was now the new girl at school, and I got ridiculed for it. I felt insecure, unsure of myself, and alone. I wanted to go back to my happy, carefree life.
This was the first time I remember being unhappy and having no control over my circumstances. I was deeply sad, and it felt like I had an empty hole in my soul. Thankfully, we only stayed in Florida for one year, but things would never go back to how they were before. I would never regain the sense of normalcy I had so desperately craved.
When we came back to South Carolina, we moved to a different city, and my parents bought a restaurant and ice-cream parlor. It was hard work building a new business, and the stress took a toll on Mom and Dad. They began to fight all the time about money and other issues. It got so bad that they divorced.
When my parental situation turned upside down, I found myself in a world that lacked security and stability. Suddenly, I was being raised by a single mother, and as the oldest daughter at ten years old, there was a lot of pressure on me to help my mom care for my two sisters. She worked very hard (sometimes up to 18 hours a day), and I know she did her best to keep food on the table and clothes on our backs. She usually had no time to tuck us in at night and tell us bedtime stories because she worked such long hours.
My sisters (who were four and six years old) and I spent a lot of time at home alone. As much as we tried to pick up after ourselves, you can imagine how messy three kids can be. I felt terrible when my mother would come home, tired from working so much, and be cranky because the house was such a disaster. I never felt like I could do enough to make Mom happy or fix our broken home life.
Many mornings she had to get to work at the crack of dawn and woke us up at three in the morning to take us to the restaurant. She made us a makeshift bed on the concrete floor in the back room and let us sleep there while she worked. This was not an ideal environment for kids, but she was doing the best she could.
It wasn't her fault. The problem was me. I felt the hole inside my heart growing bigger and bigger, and I desperately needed something to fill it.
Enter the Banana Split
I remember one particular day when I was playing outside the restaurant and decided to go visit the couple who worked at the dry cleaners next door. The owners were in their late twenties and had no children of their own. They were kind enough to let me hang out with them sometimes, and it made me feel good.
In my mind, I felt "less than" because my life had changed so drastically in only two years. I was nothing like the other kids at school and always felt out of place. This couple welcomed, accepted, and loved me just the way I was. They talked to me like I was one of their peers, and I appreciated the kindness and warmth they showed me.
This day was like any other day that I would drop by for a visit. I had been sitting at the counter and talking to the wife for about 20 minutes when her husband walked in. He abruptly told me that it was time for me to go. He said that their business was no place for children and that I shouldn't hang out there so much.
I was hurt to my core and very embarrassed. I thought they were my friends, but they were abandoning me. I tried my best to maintain my composure and make myself believe that it didn't matter. I reassured myself that I didn't need them and was fine on my own. I remember announcing to them that I was leaving, anyway, to go to make a banana split for myself.
I guess in my own childlike way, I was trying to hold on to my self-respect by pointing out that I could have a banana split anytime I wanted one. Maybe it seems silly, but for me that moment was a turning point because it concerned food. I ended up making myself that banana split and hoping it would fill some of the rejection and the emptiness I had been feeling for so long. It was the first time I used food for comfort, but it would definitely not be the last time.
Bigger and Bigger
As I got older, I gained weight and came under the attack of my grandmother who constantly told me I was chubby. My two sisters were in this weight battle with me. What else would anyone expect from kids who ate fast food and ice cream every day for years? Being overweight compounded our problems in school. Not only were we still the new kids on the block, but we had also become the fat kids.
My youngest sister had an especially hard time with children teasing her. To this day, she talks about the negative memories — one of which was having to shop for clothes in the husky department at Sears — that have haunted her through the years. Not only did she suffer from a kidney problem that made her gain even more weight, she also had an eye condition and had to wear coke-bottle glasses. She felt like such an outcast, and it broke my heart. At this point, I had taken on the role of surrogate mother for my sisters. I felt responsible for them and believed it was my job to protect them. I hated to see them suffer so much.
I don't say all of this to blame my parents. I know they both loved us girls very much and did their best at the time, but the fact was I felt very alone and abandoned. While my mom worked long hours to support us, my father took up a new life. He started dating a woman soon after the divorce. We didn't realize how serious the relationship was until we found out they had gotten married. My sisters and I weren't even invited to the wedding.
Yet again, I felt I was left behind as he started a whole new life without my sisters and me. This feeling was further reinforced when he purchased a two-seater sports car. I remember thinking that there wasn't enough room for my sisters and me. Where were we going to fit in? To me, the car was a symbol of how we weren't a part of Dad's life anymore.
My void grew deeper with each passing day. As I shoved more food into my mouth to soothe the pain that wouldn't go away, my weight crept up.
When I was eleven years old, my friend Beth invited me to attend her church youth group one night. My grandfather was a Pentecostal preacher, and church was a big part of our lives. We visited many churches through the years and spent many weeks during the summers at different vacation Bible schools, which were hosted by local congregations. I had even accepted Christ into my heart at a young age.
Since moving back to South Carolina, however, our family had stopped going to church. I missed it. The thought of visiting one with my friend absolutely thrilled me. When I arrived at the service, I immediately felt as if I belonged. I was in a wonderful place where people loved and cared about each other. It felt like I was home again. Church became my refuge. I especially felt drawn to the youth pastor, Sam. He quickly became a father figure to me, and I felt like I could tell him anything.
This reconnection with church sparked the beginning of a deepening relationship with God. Every Tuesday night, the church bus would drive to my house and take me to church. It was there that I experienced overwhelming love from others, and I discovered that God wanted to fill up the empty hole inside of my heart.
My faith commitment didn't mean that my problems were suddenly solved. I didn't ride off into the sunset of my new, happily-ever-after future. It just meant that for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had a lifeline. I had hope. My heart had a chance to become whole.
By learning about God's love for me, I realized that because we are all human, we all carry with us a certain measure of hurt and pain. This is a part of the sin nature of humankind. But that was not all. I also discovered that God created us with a space that only He can fill. He wanted to be the one to fill my voids and heal my hurts. The pain I was trying to mask with ice cream was a pain that only He could mend.
The Fat Girl Thinks She Is in Control
I want you to know that emptiness is normal. If you feel as if you need to numb the pain or soothe your soul with something outside of yourself, you are not alone. We all endure suffering from time to time. It's a normal process of living in a sinful world.
While emptiness is normal, it is how you fill the emptiness that will determine whether you are a fat girl or a fit girl. These two chicks cope with problems in different ways. The fit girl chooses God. The fat girl chooses unhealthy addictions. The fat girl can use many different ways to try to heal the hurt on the inside. Some abuse food, drugs, or alcohol or become addicted to work, hobbies, or unhealthy relationships. It might be hard to believe, but some folks can even abuse exercise to an addictive level.
Let me tell you something. The hole that is formed inside of us is not shaped like an ice-cream cone, a vodka bottle, a cigarette, or a good-looking guy. The hole is shaped like the Holy Spirit, the Comforter. He is the one who is meant to fill our empty places and heal our hurts.
I like to think about it this way. We have been created like puzzles with a missing piece. That piece is a relationship with God. He wants us to invite Him into our hearts. The closer we walk with God, the less we will search for other things to fill the hole. This is something the fit girl knows and understands.
I will be honest with you. There have been many times in my life, especially as a fat girl, when I have drifted away from my relationship with the Lord. I'm not a psychiatrist, but I believe that because of the instability I felt as a result of my parent's divorce, I made a decision as a little girl that when I became an adult, I would be self-sufficient. I would take care of myself so that bad things would never happen to me again.
As most of us know, life usually doesn't turn out as smooth as we hope it will. Bad things happen to everyone. Here's a reality check. In life, people will disappoint us one way or another. If you have never been hurt or offended by someone, then you just might be an alien from outer space. The fact is none of us can measure up to perfection, and since we can't, then certainly life will never be perfect.
My sense of independence severely impaired me when it came to trusting God with my life. I voiced my commitment to Him, but when things got tough or trials came my way, I wanted to take back my commitment. I wanted to do things my way instead of His way. When I turned away from God, that original hole in my heart would reappear, and I temporarily filled it with something. My choices were usually food, of course, and sometimes alcohol or the attention of the opposite sex. None of those things ever gave me true contentment because nothing outside of God could fulfill me.
A significant time I pulled away from God was when my son Rhett was diagnosed with autism. I was 35 at the time, and Rhett was 3. Autism is a spectrum disorder that presents different social and psychological abnormalities in some children. The main challenges we had with Rhett were that he screamed nonstop and was very sensitive to certain sounds. He also had a high threshold for pain. If he was hurting, he didn't know how to tell us, and so my husband and I were always afraid that he might be sick and we would never know.
We faced other obstacles with our son. Rhett acted as if he had no fear. He was always jumping off the top of the sliding board, and one time he even climbed out of his bedroom window and onto the roof. He exhibited destructive behaviors, colored on the walls, overfilled the bathroom sink or tub with water, and broke things around the house at random. Because he couldn't communicate in a normal manner, he was easily frustrated.
It was a very sad and dark time in our lives. I was utterly exhausted. I couldn't believe that God would allow my child to be this way, especially because I tried to live a good Christian life. For goodness sake, I even served Him in ministry at church! Why me? This was the question I constantly asked myself whenever I threw a pity party, which was quite often. This should not happen to someone like me, I thought.
I determined that if my son could suffer from autism when God was supposed to be in control, then maybe I should take back the reins of my life and chart my own course. I would figure out how to fix Rhett. I would find a way to make him better by myself. Who needed God? I was pretty sure I could handle things on my own.
As I focused on being in control, guess what happened? That's right. The hole that formed when my family fell apart grew bigger. And that's when the fat girl came out in full force. When it came time for bed, I was so exhausted from trying to do everything on my own that I would fall into a heap on the sofa. I spent many nights with my new comforters—a bowl of ice cream or a bag of chips. Oh, I still had conversations with God, but they were more like yelling matches. I would demand that He fix Rhett in the spirit of "You got me into this mess, God, so You'd better get me out of it."
One day as I was driving down the road and screaming at God yet again, He gently put me in my place. A still, small voice spoke quietly to my heart and said, "Amy, you aren't perfect, and I love you. Why does Rhett have to be perfect for you to love him?" Talk about getting hit right between the eyes! I knew that God was absolutely right. I was definitely not perfect, and instead of loving Rhett for who he was and dealing with the situation at hand, I had been focusing on making him normal (whatever that even means). At that moment I shifted my focus and asked God to forgive me. I asked Him to help me trust Him with Rhett and the other challenges in my life.
I quickly came to the realization that when I controlled my life, I only made more of a mess of it. It was a lesson I would continue to learn even after I lost the weight and transformed into a fit girl. (By the way, you'll quickly find out that the fit girl is always learning!)
A week later, I was at church, and as I listened to the sermon, the pastor stopped in the middle of what he was saying and told the congregation that he felt led to say something specific. He said that there was someone in the service who didn't know how much longer they could hang on, and that they should be encouraged because God was about to perform a miracle in their life.
I was stunned. Only a few days earlier, I mumbled something to myself about not being able to take these problems anymore. Not only was I dealing with my weight — I was 230 pounds at that point — and Rhett's autism diagnosis, but my husband, Phillip, and I had also lost a business right after we had purchased a home that needed thousands of dollars worth of renovations. I was emotionally drained by these problems. It seemed I couldn't get a break.
I felt as if the pastor was talking to me. It was the encouragement I needed to hear. Maybe my life would get better! Within days, the miracles started happening. First, we found out about a therapy called "audio integration" that proved to be a miracle cure for Rhett. It stopped his sensitivity to sound and his constant screaming. We were able to catch and keep his attention for a long period of time, and for the first time, I felt he could actually begin to learn. Second, our financial situation started to turn around as we found new careers in real estate.
When things started changing for the better, Phil and I specifically realized we had been feeding our physical bodies instead of filling our spiritual bodies. In the process, we had become morbidly obese. It was time to begin the journey to lose the weight. For me, it was time to say good-bye to the fat girl and hello to the fit girl.
What about you? What's your story? I have met people all over the country who have stories that make mine seem like a walk in the park. One such lady that I met recently told me that her problems with her weight began right after her husband committed suicide. That in itself is a horrifying traumatic event, and now this woman is left to pick up the pieces of a family torn apart by tragedy. This affected her and her family emotionally, mentally, and financially. Five years later this lady is obese, depressed, and struggling to support her family. My heart goes out to people like this because I see the magnitude of their holes and how they are desperately trying to fill them.
Pascal wrote, "What else does this craving, and this helplessness, proclaim but that there was once in man a true happiness, of which all that now remains is the empty print and trace? This he tries in vain to fill with everything around him, seeking in things that are not there the help he cannot find in those that are, though none can help, since this infinite abyss can be filled only with an infinite and immutable object; in other words by God himself." In this he describes the search that is familiar to the fat girl. So many people are on this journey to fill that hole in their hearts.
Another time I met a beautiful young woman with an incredible singing talent. She is tall and blonde and beautiful in spite of the more than 100 pounds she wants to lose. She shared with me that when she was in high school, her stepfather was murdered. Before that she had never had a weight problem, but that event threw her into such a depression that she could hardly get out of bed in the morning. Her grades suffered, and she had to drop out of school for a while. She began eating to comfort herself in her grief.
These people suffered a pain that pierced their hearts like a bullet and left a hole that couldn't be healed. They needed the Comforter to heal them, but instead they turned to food. Does this sound familiar? Have your fat-girl tendencies to heal yourself left you more depressed and burdened with extra weight? Have you suffered in a way that you feel no one can understand? Do you feel that there is no way out of the pain that plagues you day and night? It's time to become the fit girl.
What a Fit Girl Knows
Fit girls know that making the right nutrition choices and getting regular exercise are only half the battle. The real key to losing weight and keeping it off is in fighting a spiritual and mental battle. When I lost all the weight while on The Biggest Loser, I found that many issues from my past reappeared. When it was time for the fit girl to deal with her internal fears and let go of the crutches the fat girl held on to for dear life, I felt like a scared kid curled up in a corner in a fetal position. I had to give that scared little girl permission to rise up and be strong. Why? Because fit girls are strong and are not afraid to face challenges, obstacles, or their fears. I had to show the fat girl what a fit girl is capable of.
As a fat girl, I focused on naming things I couldn't do. After I started losing weight, I was on a mission to prove the fat girl wrong. I climbed mountains, kayaked rivers, hiked the Grand Canyon, and endured physical challenges that I never thought I could face. Being able to witness my own strength for the first time in my life and overcome the impossible was just the beginning of my fit-girl transformation. Healing my heart on the inside would prove to be a bigger challenge than climbing the biggest mountain I could find, but it was only when my heart healed that I was able to find the fit girl.
You may be asking, "Who is the fit girl?" The fit girl is you when you discover that the hole on the inside of you is designed to be filled by God, your heavenly Father and the Creator of the universe. The fit girl is you when you realize that the compulsion to fill an internal void with food, alcohol, or other stuff is futile because only God can fill that place. The fit girl is you when you realize that you don't need to comfort yourself with anything but God because you know He loves you very much and wants nothing but the best for your life.
The Bible says that "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" (see Hebrews 11:1 nkjv). Faith in God is the belief that He is the substance you need for the life you dream of but have yet to see. For the fit girl, a life worth dreaming about is one where she doesn't have to fill the empty places in her life with things outside of God when pressures get to her.
Remember how I said I would continue to learn this lesson? Well, when I was going through the process of losing weight, I faced different kinds of temptations to fill the void. My new alternatives to filling the void were worse than the food addiction.
For instance, as I got thinner, I was getting attention from men other than my husband. I hadn't experienced that kind of attention in years, and to be honest, I liked it. In fact, I liked it so much that I realized that even though I was a happily married woman, I still sought after male attention to prove that I was attractive. I liked it when other men thought I was pretty, and so I didn't discourage harmless flirtations. As you can imagine, my husband didn't find this behavior an acceptable replacement for my food cravings.
Before I knew it, I found myself switching from one addiction to another. I stopped caring about welcoming glances from men and started drinking red wine. That occasional one glass of wine quickly turned into two or three glasses a few nights a week. Obviously the fat girl wasn't just an outside issue but an issue of the heart. I had a heart problem, and I needed a healer.
So once again I turned to the Lord and asked Him to heal me and be my guide. I asked Him to fill me with His Holy Spirit and show me how to change my heart. I asked Him to reveal to me the keys to change my reactions to life and its challenges and pressures. It was then that God, once again, asked me to have faith in Him and trust Him with my life. He didn't want to be my acquaintance. He wanted to be my Lord. Thankfully, I said yes to that process. I haven't looked back since.
What about you? Have you noticed that your struggles are similar to mine? Do you have a hole in your heart that you are trying to fill up with addictive behaviors like compulsive shopping, drinking too much, or smoking cigarettes? Have you lost weight and found yourself holding on to things that have replaced a food addiction? What's your new drug of choice?
Often weight can be a security blanket to keep from having to deal with sensitive things going on in the heart, and uncovering those hurts can be a painful process. Know this: God loves you and wants you to be whole and fit. He wants to build a relationship with you so that you can allow Him to fill every part of your life. It's not enough to occasionally chat with Him through a prayer. God wants to be your partner and your friend. He wants to transform you from the inside out! He wants you to be a fit girl.
For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else. — Ralph Waldo Emerson
Transformation Tips
I want you to do something for me. Find a really quiet place and go there by yourself. I know this might be hard if you have little kids or a busy schedule, but carve out some time to sit in the quiet and set your daily routine aside for a while. This is important. (By the way, finding a few minutes alone to meditate and pray is a great thing to do at the end of each of these lessons.)
During this quiet time, pray and ask God to reveal some things that may be holding you back from being the fit girl He made you to be. He may bring things to your mind that you haven't thought about in years. You may have buried feelings, situations, or experiences you didn't want to deal with back then — things God wants you to uncover today. God can show you these things through dreams or even nightmares. Identify whatever comes to your mind and write them down in a journal.
Here is a list of questions that will help you with this process and show you some things that may be keeping the fit girl at bay. Take some time to meditate on these questions and pray about your answers. Ask God to speak into your heart.
What are my earliest childhood memories? Are they happy ones? Sad ones?
How have these memories shaped my life?
Are there people from my past who I need to forgive or ask to forgive me?
What role does God have in my life? Can I draw closer to Him?
In my relationships with others, does the way I act cause hurt feelings? Concerning myself, does my behavior cause harm or is it self-destructive?
These might be hard questions for you to think about, but it's what you have to do if you want to transform yourself into a fit girl. Finally, I want you to pray about each revelation and ask God to show you how to make changes in the areas that need some work. Trust that He will give you the strategies to heal the places that need healing.
Commit to having a closer relationship with God and listening more closely when He speaks to your heart. He may ask you to call someone and ask them to forgive you for being angry with them. He may tell you that you are going to have to end relationships in your life that are unhealthy. Whatever it is you feel He is leading you to do, do it. This is the beginning of the healing journey and finding the fit girl in you!
Your Prayer
Father, please help me realize that only You can fulfill me, and that I need only You to fill the empty spaces inside me. Help me turn away from the temptation to fill my empty spaces with anything else. I pray that You would give me the strength to continually make the choice to relinquish control of my life to You. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen.
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:
Amy Parham
and the book:
10 Lessons from a Former Fat Girl
Harvest House Publishers (January 1, 2011)
***Special thanks to Christianne Debysingh, Senior Publicist, Harvest House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Amy Parham co-authored with her husband, Phil, The 90-Day Fitness Challenge and The 90-Day Fitness Challenge DVD. She and Phil were contestants on Season 6 of NBC's The Biggest Loser. Over a seven-month period, they recorded the highest percentage of weight loss of any couple in the program's history. Married for more than 20 years, they live in South Carolina with their three boys, Austin, Pearson, and Rhett.
Visit the author's website.
SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:
Former fat girl Amy Parham offers a practical, proven plan for changing not only the fat-girl body but also the fat-girl mentality. Focusing on the mental ,emotional, and spiritual aspects of our relationship with food and exercise, Amy shows how readers can make this a healthy partnership that brings permanent change.
Product Details:
List Price: $11.99
Paperback: 192 pages
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (January 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0736938656
ISBN-13: 978-0736938655
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
We All Have an Empty Place
We're all searching for something to fill up what I like to call that big, God-shaped hole in our souls. Some people use alcohol, or sex, or their children, or food, or money, or music, or heroin. A lot of people even use the concept of God itself. I could go on and on. I used to know a girl who used shoes. She had over two-hundred pairs. But it's all the same thing, really. People, for some stupid reason, think they can escape their sorrows.
— Tiffanie DeBartolo, God-Shaped Hole
My earliest memories were such happy ones. Mom had dinner on the table when Dad came home from work, and my two sisters and I laughed and talked about our day with our parents. It was the best feeling. Everything about our family felt so right and secure. I remember Mom walking me to kindergarten every day at a church around the corner from my house. In that same church parking lot, my dad taught me how to ride a bike without training wheels. He also taught me to fly a kite, and with his help, I won a blue ribbon in a kite-flying competition at my school.
I had my own bedroom with a yellow gingham canopy bed and a playhouse in the backyard. There was also a dogwood tree that I climbed all the time. My best friend, Teresa, lived across the street, and my grandparents lived nearby. Life was good and felt normal, but when I turned eight years old, my seemingly perfect life changed forever.
A Growing Hole
Dad quit his longtime job at a local radio station in South Carolina to pursue a job at another radio station in West Palm Beach, Florida. We had to sell our house immediately and move to what seemed to me to be a different planet. I will never forget the image of Teresa and me standing by the "For Sale" sign in our front yard. We bawled our eyes out and held each other so tight because we knew we might not ever see each other again.
When we got to Florida, the five of us moved into a tiny apartment. There was nothing wrong with the apartment, but I was uncomfortable because I was used to living in a larger space and having a big yard to play in. My sisters and I barely had enough room to squeeze past each other on the way to the bathroom. My new school was huge compared to the one I attended in South Carolina. But the worst thing was that while everyone knew and loved me at my old school, I was now the new girl at school, and I got ridiculed for it. I felt insecure, unsure of myself, and alone. I wanted to go back to my happy, carefree life.
This was the first time I remember being unhappy and having no control over my circumstances. I was deeply sad, and it felt like I had an empty hole in my soul. Thankfully, we only stayed in Florida for one year, but things would never go back to how they were before. I would never regain the sense of normalcy I had so desperately craved.
When we came back to South Carolina, we moved to a different city, and my parents bought a restaurant and ice-cream parlor. It was hard work building a new business, and the stress took a toll on Mom and Dad. They began to fight all the time about money and other issues. It got so bad that they divorced.
When my parental situation turned upside down, I found myself in a world that lacked security and stability. Suddenly, I was being raised by a single mother, and as the oldest daughter at ten years old, there was a lot of pressure on me to help my mom care for my two sisters. She worked very hard (sometimes up to 18 hours a day), and I know she did her best to keep food on the table and clothes on our backs. She usually had no time to tuck us in at night and tell us bedtime stories because she worked such long hours.
My sisters (who were four and six years old) and I spent a lot of time at home alone. As much as we tried to pick up after ourselves, you can imagine how messy three kids can be. I felt terrible when my mother would come home, tired from working so much, and be cranky because the house was such a disaster. I never felt like I could do enough to make Mom happy or fix our broken home life.
Many mornings she had to get to work at the crack of dawn and woke us up at three in the morning to take us to the restaurant. She made us a makeshift bed on the concrete floor in the back room and let us sleep there while she worked. This was not an ideal environment for kids, but she was doing the best she could.
It wasn't her fault. The problem was me. I felt the hole inside my heart growing bigger and bigger, and I desperately needed something to fill it.
Enter the Banana Split
I remember one particular day when I was playing outside the restaurant and decided to go visit the couple who worked at the dry cleaners next door. The owners were in their late twenties and had no children of their own. They were kind enough to let me hang out with them sometimes, and it made me feel good.
In my mind, I felt "less than" because my life had changed so drastically in only two years. I was nothing like the other kids at school and always felt out of place. This couple welcomed, accepted, and loved me just the way I was. They talked to me like I was one of their peers, and I appreciated the kindness and warmth they showed me.
This day was like any other day that I would drop by for a visit. I had been sitting at the counter and talking to the wife for about 20 minutes when her husband walked in. He abruptly told me that it was time for me to go. He said that their business was no place for children and that I shouldn't hang out there so much.
I was hurt to my core and very embarrassed. I thought they were my friends, but they were abandoning me. I tried my best to maintain my composure and make myself believe that it didn't matter. I reassured myself that I didn't need them and was fine on my own. I remember announcing to them that I was leaving, anyway, to go to make a banana split for myself.
I guess in my own childlike way, I was trying to hold on to my self-respect by pointing out that I could have a banana split anytime I wanted one. Maybe it seems silly, but for me that moment was a turning point because it concerned food. I ended up making myself that banana split and hoping it would fill some of the rejection and the emptiness I had been feeling for so long. It was the first time I used food for comfort, but it would definitely not be the last time.
Bigger and Bigger
As I got older, I gained weight and came under the attack of my grandmother who constantly told me I was chubby. My two sisters were in this weight battle with me. What else would anyone expect from kids who ate fast food and ice cream every day for years? Being overweight compounded our problems in school. Not only were we still the new kids on the block, but we had also become the fat kids.
My youngest sister had an especially hard time with children teasing her. To this day, she talks about the negative memories — one of which was having to shop for clothes in the husky department at Sears — that have haunted her through the years. Not only did she suffer from a kidney problem that made her gain even more weight, she also had an eye condition and had to wear coke-bottle glasses. She felt like such an outcast, and it broke my heart. At this point, I had taken on the role of surrogate mother for my sisters. I felt responsible for them and believed it was my job to protect them. I hated to see them suffer so much.
I don't say all of this to blame my parents. I know they both loved us girls very much and did their best at the time, but the fact was I felt very alone and abandoned. While my mom worked long hours to support us, my father took up a new life. He started dating a woman soon after the divorce. We didn't realize how serious the relationship was until we found out they had gotten married. My sisters and I weren't even invited to the wedding.
Yet again, I felt I was left behind as he started a whole new life without my sisters and me. This feeling was further reinforced when he purchased a two-seater sports car. I remember thinking that there wasn't enough room for my sisters and me. Where were we going to fit in? To me, the car was a symbol of how we weren't a part of Dad's life anymore.
My void grew deeper with each passing day. As I shoved more food into my mouth to soothe the pain that wouldn't go away, my weight crept up.
When I was eleven years old, my friend Beth invited me to attend her church youth group one night. My grandfather was a Pentecostal preacher, and church was a big part of our lives. We visited many churches through the years and spent many weeks during the summers at different vacation Bible schools, which were hosted by local congregations. I had even accepted Christ into my heart at a young age.
Since moving back to South Carolina, however, our family had stopped going to church. I missed it. The thought of visiting one with my friend absolutely thrilled me. When I arrived at the service, I immediately felt as if I belonged. I was in a wonderful place where people loved and cared about each other. It felt like I was home again. Church became my refuge. I especially felt drawn to the youth pastor, Sam. He quickly became a father figure to me, and I felt like I could tell him anything.
This reconnection with church sparked the beginning of a deepening relationship with God. Every Tuesday night, the church bus would drive to my house and take me to church. It was there that I experienced overwhelming love from others, and I discovered that God wanted to fill up the empty hole inside of my heart.
My faith commitment didn't mean that my problems were suddenly solved. I didn't ride off into the sunset of my new, happily-ever-after future. It just meant that for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had a lifeline. I had hope. My heart had a chance to become whole.
By learning about God's love for me, I realized that because we are all human, we all carry with us a certain measure of hurt and pain. This is a part of the sin nature of humankind. But that was not all. I also discovered that God created us with a space that only He can fill. He wanted to be the one to fill my voids and heal my hurts. The pain I was trying to mask with ice cream was a pain that only He could mend.
The Fat Girl Thinks She Is in Control
I want you to know that emptiness is normal. If you feel as if you need to numb the pain or soothe your soul with something outside of yourself, you are not alone. We all endure suffering from time to time. It's a normal process of living in a sinful world.
While emptiness is normal, it is how you fill the emptiness that will determine whether you are a fat girl or a fit girl. These two chicks cope with problems in different ways. The fit girl chooses God. The fat girl chooses unhealthy addictions. The fat girl can use many different ways to try to heal the hurt on the inside. Some abuse food, drugs, or alcohol or become addicted to work, hobbies, or unhealthy relationships. It might be hard to believe, but some folks can even abuse exercise to an addictive level.
Let me tell you something. The hole that is formed inside of us is not shaped like an ice-cream cone, a vodka bottle, a cigarette, or a good-looking guy. The hole is shaped like the Holy Spirit, the Comforter. He is the one who is meant to fill our empty places and heal our hurts.
I like to think about it this way. We have been created like puzzles with a missing piece. That piece is a relationship with God. He wants us to invite Him into our hearts. The closer we walk with God, the less we will search for other things to fill the hole. This is something the fit girl knows and understands.
I will be honest with you. There have been many times in my life, especially as a fat girl, when I have drifted away from my relationship with the Lord. I'm not a psychiatrist, but I believe that because of the instability I felt as a result of my parent's divorce, I made a decision as a little girl that when I became an adult, I would be self-sufficient. I would take care of myself so that bad things would never happen to me again.
As most of us know, life usually doesn't turn out as smooth as we hope it will. Bad things happen to everyone. Here's a reality check. In life, people will disappoint us one way or another. If you have never been hurt or offended by someone, then you just might be an alien from outer space. The fact is none of us can measure up to perfection, and since we can't, then certainly life will never be perfect.
My sense of independence severely impaired me when it came to trusting God with my life. I voiced my commitment to Him, but when things got tough or trials came my way, I wanted to take back my commitment. I wanted to do things my way instead of His way. When I turned away from God, that original hole in my heart would reappear, and I temporarily filled it with something. My choices were usually food, of course, and sometimes alcohol or the attention of the opposite sex. None of those things ever gave me true contentment because nothing outside of God could fulfill me.
A significant time I pulled away from God was when my son Rhett was diagnosed with autism. I was 35 at the time, and Rhett was 3. Autism is a spectrum disorder that presents different social and psychological abnormalities in some children. The main challenges we had with Rhett were that he screamed nonstop and was very sensitive to certain sounds. He also had a high threshold for pain. If he was hurting, he didn't know how to tell us, and so my husband and I were always afraid that he might be sick and we would never know.
We faced other obstacles with our son. Rhett acted as if he had no fear. He was always jumping off the top of the sliding board, and one time he even climbed out of his bedroom window and onto the roof. He exhibited destructive behaviors, colored on the walls, overfilled the bathroom sink or tub with water, and broke things around the house at random. Because he couldn't communicate in a normal manner, he was easily frustrated.
It was a very sad and dark time in our lives. I was utterly exhausted. I couldn't believe that God would allow my child to be this way, especially because I tried to live a good Christian life. For goodness sake, I even served Him in ministry at church! Why me? This was the question I constantly asked myself whenever I threw a pity party, which was quite often. This should not happen to someone like me, I thought.
I determined that if my son could suffer from autism when God was supposed to be in control, then maybe I should take back the reins of my life and chart my own course. I would figure out how to fix Rhett. I would find a way to make him better by myself. Who needed God? I was pretty sure I could handle things on my own.
As I focused on being in control, guess what happened? That's right. The hole that formed when my family fell apart grew bigger. And that's when the fat girl came out in full force. When it came time for bed, I was so exhausted from trying to do everything on my own that I would fall into a heap on the sofa. I spent many nights with my new comforters—a bowl of ice cream or a bag of chips. Oh, I still had conversations with God, but they were more like yelling matches. I would demand that He fix Rhett in the spirit of "You got me into this mess, God, so You'd better get me out of it."
One day as I was driving down the road and screaming at God yet again, He gently put me in my place. A still, small voice spoke quietly to my heart and said, "Amy, you aren't perfect, and I love you. Why does Rhett have to be perfect for you to love him?" Talk about getting hit right between the eyes! I knew that God was absolutely right. I was definitely not perfect, and instead of loving Rhett for who he was and dealing with the situation at hand, I had been focusing on making him normal (whatever that even means). At that moment I shifted my focus and asked God to forgive me. I asked Him to help me trust Him with Rhett and the other challenges in my life.
I quickly came to the realization that when I controlled my life, I only made more of a mess of it. It was a lesson I would continue to learn even after I lost the weight and transformed into a fit girl. (By the way, you'll quickly find out that the fit girl is always learning!)
A week later, I was at church, and as I listened to the sermon, the pastor stopped in the middle of what he was saying and told the congregation that he felt led to say something specific. He said that there was someone in the service who didn't know how much longer they could hang on, and that they should be encouraged because God was about to perform a miracle in their life.
I was stunned. Only a few days earlier, I mumbled something to myself about not being able to take these problems anymore. Not only was I dealing with my weight — I was 230 pounds at that point — and Rhett's autism diagnosis, but my husband, Phillip, and I had also lost a business right after we had purchased a home that needed thousands of dollars worth of renovations. I was emotionally drained by these problems. It seemed I couldn't get a break.
I felt as if the pastor was talking to me. It was the encouragement I needed to hear. Maybe my life would get better! Within days, the miracles started happening. First, we found out about a therapy called "audio integration" that proved to be a miracle cure for Rhett. It stopped his sensitivity to sound and his constant screaming. We were able to catch and keep his attention for a long period of time, and for the first time, I felt he could actually begin to learn. Second, our financial situation started to turn around as we found new careers in real estate.
When things started changing for the better, Phil and I specifically realized we had been feeding our physical bodies instead of filling our spiritual bodies. In the process, we had become morbidly obese. It was time to begin the journey to lose the weight. For me, it was time to say good-bye to the fat girl and hello to the fit girl.
What about you? What's your story? I have met people all over the country who have stories that make mine seem like a walk in the park. One such lady that I met recently told me that her problems with her weight began right after her husband committed suicide. That in itself is a horrifying traumatic event, and now this woman is left to pick up the pieces of a family torn apart by tragedy. This affected her and her family emotionally, mentally, and financially. Five years later this lady is obese, depressed, and struggling to support her family. My heart goes out to people like this because I see the magnitude of their holes and how they are desperately trying to fill them.
Pascal wrote, "What else does this craving, and this helplessness, proclaim but that there was once in man a true happiness, of which all that now remains is the empty print and trace? This he tries in vain to fill with everything around him, seeking in things that are not there the help he cannot find in those that are, though none can help, since this infinite abyss can be filled only with an infinite and immutable object; in other words by God himself." In this he describes the search that is familiar to the fat girl. So many people are on this journey to fill that hole in their hearts.
Another time I met a beautiful young woman with an incredible singing talent. She is tall and blonde and beautiful in spite of the more than 100 pounds she wants to lose. She shared with me that when she was in high school, her stepfather was murdered. Before that she had never had a weight problem, but that event threw her into such a depression that she could hardly get out of bed in the morning. Her grades suffered, and she had to drop out of school for a while. She began eating to comfort herself in her grief.
These people suffered a pain that pierced their hearts like a bullet and left a hole that couldn't be healed. They needed the Comforter to heal them, but instead they turned to food. Does this sound familiar? Have your fat-girl tendencies to heal yourself left you more depressed and burdened with extra weight? Have you suffered in a way that you feel no one can understand? Do you feel that there is no way out of the pain that plagues you day and night? It's time to become the fit girl.
What a Fit Girl Knows
Fit girls know that making the right nutrition choices and getting regular exercise are only half the battle. The real key to losing weight and keeping it off is in fighting a spiritual and mental battle. When I lost all the weight while on The Biggest Loser, I found that many issues from my past reappeared. When it was time for the fit girl to deal with her internal fears and let go of the crutches the fat girl held on to for dear life, I felt like a scared kid curled up in a corner in a fetal position. I had to give that scared little girl permission to rise up and be strong. Why? Because fit girls are strong and are not afraid to face challenges, obstacles, or their fears. I had to show the fat girl what a fit girl is capable of.
As a fat girl, I focused on naming things I couldn't do. After I started losing weight, I was on a mission to prove the fat girl wrong. I climbed mountains, kayaked rivers, hiked the Grand Canyon, and endured physical challenges that I never thought I could face. Being able to witness my own strength for the first time in my life and overcome the impossible was just the beginning of my fit-girl transformation. Healing my heart on the inside would prove to be a bigger challenge than climbing the biggest mountain I could find, but it was only when my heart healed that I was able to find the fit girl.
You may be asking, "Who is the fit girl?" The fit girl is you when you discover that the hole on the inside of you is designed to be filled by God, your heavenly Father and the Creator of the universe. The fit girl is you when you realize that the compulsion to fill an internal void with food, alcohol, or other stuff is futile because only God can fill that place. The fit girl is you when you realize that you don't need to comfort yourself with anything but God because you know He loves you very much and wants nothing but the best for your life.
The Bible says that "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" (see Hebrews 11:1 nkjv). Faith in God is the belief that He is the substance you need for the life you dream of but have yet to see. For the fit girl, a life worth dreaming about is one where she doesn't have to fill the empty places in her life with things outside of God when pressures get to her.
Remember how I said I would continue to learn this lesson? Well, when I was going through the process of losing weight, I faced different kinds of temptations to fill the void. My new alternatives to filling the void were worse than the food addiction.
For instance, as I got thinner, I was getting attention from men other than my husband. I hadn't experienced that kind of attention in years, and to be honest, I liked it. In fact, I liked it so much that I realized that even though I was a happily married woman, I still sought after male attention to prove that I was attractive. I liked it when other men thought I was pretty, and so I didn't discourage harmless flirtations. As you can imagine, my husband didn't find this behavior an acceptable replacement for my food cravings.
Before I knew it, I found myself switching from one addiction to another. I stopped caring about welcoming glances from men and started drinking red wine. That occasional one glass of wine quickly turned into two or three glasses a few nights a week. Obviously the fat girl wasn't just an outside issue but an issue of the heart. I had a heart problem, and I needed a healer.
So once again I turned to the Lord and asked Him to heal me and be my guide. I asked Him to fill me with His Holy Spirit and show me how to change my heart. I asked Him to reveal to me the keys to change my reactions to life and its challenges and pressures. It was then that God, once again, asked me to have faith in Him and trust Him with my life. He didn't want to be my acquaintance. He wanted to be my Lord. Thankfully, I said yes to that process. I haven't looked back since.
What about you? Have you noticed that your struggles are similar to mine? Do you have a hole in your heart that you are trying to fill up with addictive behaviors like compulsive shopping, drinking too much, or smoking cigarettes? Have you lost weight and found yourself holding on to things that have replaced a food addiction? What's your new drug of choice?
Often weight can be a security blanket to keep from having to deal with sensitive things going on in the heart, and uncovering those hurts can be a painful process. Know this: God loves you and wants you to be whole and fit. He wants to build a relationship with you so that you can allow Him to fill every part of your life. It's not enough to occasionally chat with Him through a prayer. God wants to be your partner and your friend. He wants to transform you from the inside out! He wants you to be a fit girl.
For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else. — Ralph Waldo Emerson
Transformation Tips
I want you to do something for me. Find a really quiet place and go there by yourself. I know this might be hard if you have little kids or a busy schedule, but carve out some time to sit in the quiet and set your daily routine aside for a while. This is important. (By the way, finding a few minutes alone to meditate and pray is a great thing to do at the end of each of these lessons.)
During this quiet time, pray and ask God to reveal some things that may be holding you back from being the fit girl He made you to be. He may bring things to your mind that you haven't thought about in years. You may have buried feelings, situations, or experiences you didn't want to deal with back then — things God wants you to uncover today. God can show you these things through dreams or even nightmares. Identify whatever comes to your mind and write them down in a journal.
Here is a list of questions that will help you with this process and show you some things that may be keeping the fit girl at bay. Take some time to meditate on these questions and pray about your answers. Ask God to speak into your heart.
What are my earliest childhood memories? Are they happy ones? Sad ones?
How have these memories shaped my life?
Are there people from my past who I need to forgive or ask to forgive me?
What role does God have in my life? Can I draw closer to Him?
In my relationships with others, does the way I act cause hurt feelings? Concerning myself, does my behavior cause harm or is it self-destructive?
These might be hard questions for you to think about, but it's what you have to do if you want to transform yourself into a fit girl. Finally, I want you to pray about each revelation and ask God to show you how to make changes in the areas that need some work. Trust that He will give you the strategies to heal the places that need healing.
Commit to having a closer relationship with God and listening more closely when He speaks to your heart. He may ask you to call someone and ask them to forgive you for being angry with them. He may tell you that you are going to have to end relationships in your life that are unhealthy. Whatever it is you feel He is leading you to do, do it. This is the beginning of the healing journey and finding the fit girl in you!
Your Prayer
Father, please help me realize that only You can fulfill me, and that I need only You to fill the empty spaces inside me. Help me turn away from the temptation to fill my empty spaces with anything else. I pray that You would give me the strength to continually make the choice to relinquish control of my life to You. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen.
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!
