The other night while watching TV I saw one of the many ads for Weight Watchers. It was a testimonial from an actress talking about how her life was changed by losing 50 pounds. She talked about how wonderful her life is now that she lost all that weight and said that if she could go back in time and speak to her old self, she’d say that everything would be okay.
It made me start to wonder, what would it be like to see a commercial like that for God: a popular and pretty actress talking about how amazing she feels with the Savior in her life, how it’s changed everything for her, and she even gets emotional with a tear in her eye because she is so filled with joy.
How different would our society be if we spent the same amount of focus on our spiritual health as we do our physical? If doctors made the rounds of television news shows discussing how attending church and praying once a week can reduce heart disease? If instead of rows and rows of weight loss products and vitamins at Wal-mart there were rows and rows of Bibles and prayer books? If there was a major ad campaign to get
children to spend 30 minutes a day with Jesus so that they could be healthier as adults? What if people woke up extra early and stopped after work at the church to pray and serve instead of at the fitness center?
Our society is obsessed with the physical form. Actresses who are thin get better roles and make more money than those whose bodies aren’t quite so tiny. Magazines are filled with their photos and tips for losing weight. But what if magazines were filled with men and women of God and their testimonies of faith?
Unfortunately, many people treat the hospital and their church the same way: they go once a year for an annual check-up or when it’s an emergency.
I don’t disregard the importance of taking good care of our bodies, but I think that if you look around, our culture takes it to the extreme. When Jesus healed people in His time on earth, he didn’t just heal their bodies, he healed their souls as well, because what worth is a healthy body with a sick soul? James 2:26 says, “the body without the spirit is dead” That’s why it is so important that the hospital and churches
work together.
1 Corinthians 6:19 says Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own;
So the next time you see a Weight Watchers/Jenny Craig/Nutrifast commercial on television, imagine to yourself what it would be like if the spokesperson was speaking about the Lord and consider what a different world that would be!
Today's pic is of Mia's new haircut. She loves it, and so do I!
It's a Giveaway Extravaganza! Kindle Giveaway, Facebook Party and Book
Bomb - OH MY!
Visit the Roaring 20’s with Julie Lessman in the Technology and
Romance KINDLE Giveaway! Julie’s latest series has just ‘shimmied’ it’s way onto the
scene with book 1 in The Winds of Change series, A Hope Undaunted!
One Grand Prize winner will receive a KINDLE preloaded with Julie Lessman's latest
title. The Prize Pack (valued at over $150.00) includes:
* A brand new KINDLE, with Wi-Fi
* A Hope Undaunted by Julie Lessman
To enter, simply click on the icons below to fill out the entry form and be sure to tell
your friends about the contest.
Oh, and enter soon! Winner will be announced on October 7th.
Not only is Julie hosting the fabulous KINDLE giveaway, but also a
FACEBOOK PARTY and a BOOK BOMB!!!
Are you ready for PRIZES GALORE??? Then come to the Facebook Party!
How does a gift certificate and a signed book given away EVERY 10 minutes during
an hour-long Facebook party sound? (Yeah, we think it sounds pretty great too!) On
October 7th at 5pm PST (6:00 MST, 7:00 CST, & 8:00 EST) Julie is inviting you
to attend the A Hope Undaunted Facebook Party! She'll announce the winner
of the KINDLE and in addition to the prizes every 10 minutes, she'll also be giving
away great prize baskets filled with even more Romance and Technology (Netflix, Starbucks, Amazon.com, Champagne body Lotion, Pearls, & more!)!
BUT WAIT … there’s more (and no, this is not an infomercial … it’s WAY
better!). If you participate in the Book Bomb on October 7th you’ll
be entered to win a $50 gift certificate to Amazon.com. All you need to
do to participate is buy a copy of A Hope Undauntedon
October 7th and send your receipt (just transaction number from store, store
name & date) to amy@li
tfusegroup.com! Each book purchased equals one entry, buy 10 books get 10 entries!
All this fun begins with Revell’s blog tour SEPTEMBER 19-25, when 122 blogger/
reviewers will post reviews about A Hope Undaunted, followed by the Book
Bomb and Facebook Party!
So mark your calendars with these important dates: September 19-25: A Hope Undaunted will be making an appearance on blogs
across the country (and beyond!) in Revell's blog tour!
September 20th: The Technology and Romance KINDLE Giveaway launches
(contest runs 9/20 - 10/6)
October 7th: Book Bomb Day (where everyone is encouraged to buy the book
online at the same time!) and Facebook Party - meet and chat with Julie, win some great
prizes & find out who won the KINDLE!
Want to help us spread the word about all
this fun and be entered to win a $50 Amazon.com gift certificate?
Share Julie's Giveaway Extravaganza on Facebook, Twitter or your blog and we'll
enter your name into our random drawing to win 50 smackers to Amazon.com!
Once you've tweeted, posted on Facebok or added the button to your
blog/website - simple email Amy and let her
know you helped spread the word. Easy.
Here is a sample post for both Twitter/Facebook:
Tweet This: @JulieLessman is giving away a KINDLE and tons more during
her giveaway extravaganza! Details here: http://ow.ly/2Czbn Pls RT
Share on Facebook: Julie Lessman is celebrating her new release, A Hope
Undaunted by giving away a KINDLE, having a Book Bomb and a Facebook Party!
Prizes Galore - don't miss the fun! http://ow.ly/2Czbn
Or add this button to your blog or website! Simply copy and paste
the code in the box into the HTML screen of your blog or website.
Then email Amy and let her
know you did!
Cheryl Ricker is hosting this great contest over at her website during
the blog tour for A Friend in the Storm, Zondervan’s latest innovative gift book of quotes, Scripture
and poetry that leads to lasting hope!
Since this book covers matters of the heart, Cheryl wants to hear from YOUR
heart! In the midst of any type of loss, grief or crisis, A Friend in the Storm takes you on a healing journey where you experience Christ’s
love in a fresh, memorable way. Now she invites you to submit an original poem, story or
snippet about a time when someone was a friend in your storm… and she's giving you the
opportunity to win a KINDLE to do it!
On October 3rd, she will randomly select one winner to receive a brand-
new KINDLE! She's also choosing 5 more names at random to receive
a signed copy of A Friend in the Storm! The winners will be announced at her
Facebook Party on October 4th. The party will take place on Cheryl's Facebook "A
Friend in the Storm" Page - go here for all the details.
The Facebook Party will be a blast! Not only will she be
announcing the Share Your Storm Kindle Giveaway winners, but she'll also be chatting with party goers, hosting fun trivia contests,
and giving away even more prizes every 10 minutes – including signed copies of
A Friend in the Storm, and gift certificates to Amazon.com and Starbucks.com!
Oh, and check this out - Cheryl is also giving away a $50 Amazon gift certificate!
Simply help her spread the word about the contest; Facebook Party. Interested? It’s easy
to enter! Here’s how:
Share this on FACEBOOK: Want to help someone who’s hurting? “A Friend
in the Storm,” Zondervan’s latest gift book of quotes, Scripture and poetry, is helping
thousands find lasting Hope! Go here http://ow.ly/2BYiN to enter to win a KINDLE!
Post this on TWITTER: A Friend in the Storm by @cherylricker heals hearts in
tough times. Enter 2 win a KINDLE http://ow.ly/2BYiN here! #litfuse (You must use
hashtag #litfuse to be entered.)
Share this as many times as you like – just email amy@litfusegroup.com by October 4th and
let her know how many times you tweeted/shared on Facebook, twittered or blogged
about the contest. Each ‘sharing’ represents one entry into the contest.
Another way to ‘share’ the contest is to add this button to your blog or
website. Adding the button is worth ten entries into the contest!
Simply copy and paste the code in the text box below into the html screen of your blog/
website, then send Amy an email letting her
know that you added it along with your URL and she’ll toss your extra entries into the
pot.
Wanda Dyson – "a shining example of what Christian fiction is becoming..." (Christian Fiction Review). She's been called a "natural" and a "master of pacing," but her fans know that whether it's police thrillers, suspense, or bringing a true story to life, Wanda knows how to take her readers on a journey they'll never forget.
Wanda is a multipublished suspense author, currently writing for Random House/Waterbrook. Her one attempt at a nonfiction book was picked for an exclusive release on Oprah. In addition to writing full time, she is also the appointment coordinator for the CCWC, Great Philadelphia Christian Writers, and ACFW conferences.
Wanda lives in Western Maryland on a 125 acre farm with a menagerie of animals and when she's not writing critically acclaimed suspense, or away at conferences, you can find her zipping across the fields on a 4-wheeler with Maya, her German Shepherd, or plodding along at a more leisurely pace on her horse, Nanza.
With the release of her newest hit, Judgment Day, Wanda is heading back to the keyboard to start on her next high-octane thriller, The Vigilante.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Sensational journalism has never been so deadly.
The weekly cable news show Judgment Day with Suzanne Kidwell promises to expose businessmen, religious leaders, and politicians for the lies they tell. Suzanne positions herself as a champion of ethics and morality with a backbone of steel—until a revelation of her shoddy investigation tactics and creative fact embellishing put her in hot water with her employers, putting her credibility in question and threatening her professional ambitions.
Bitter and angry, Suzanne returns home one day to find an entrepreneur she is investigating, John Edward Sterling, unconscious on her living room floor. Before the night is over, Sterling is dead, she has his blood on her hands, and the police are arresting her for murder. She needs help to prove her innocence, but her only hope, private investigator Marcus Crisp, is also her ex-fiancé–the man she betrayed in college.
Marcus and his partner Alexandria Fisher-Hawthorne reluctantly agree to take the case, but they won’t cut Suzanne any slack. Exposing her lack of ethics and the lives she’s destroyed in her fight for ratings does little to make them think Suzanne is innocent. But as Marcus digs into the mire of secrets surrounding her enemies, he unveils an alliance well-worth killing for. Now all he has to do is keep Suzanne and Alex alive long enough to prove it.
Watch the book trailer:
If you would like to read the Prologue and first chapter of Judgment Day, go HERE.
Judgment Day by Wanda Dyson is a fast-paced thrill ride with lots of twists and turns. Suzanne Kidwell has achieved some notoriety with her television show Judgment Day, but after the mysterious death of her fiance, Guy Mandeville, she's accused of playing fast and loose with her stories and not doing enough research. When she is framed for murder, she hires former boyfriend Marcus Crisp, whose heart she broke in college, and his partner Alexandria to find out who wants to take her down. Marcus and Alex take the case with no idea what they are getting themselves into, and as the bodies pile up and the secrets come out, they just may discover that the truth is more than they can bear. Dyson's writing is full of thrills and chills, and frighteningly believable. The novel is Christian fiction, but the faith is never in your face. Marcus, Alex, and partner Razz are fantastic characters with complicated backstories and plenty of potential; I hope that Dyson uses them again soon.
Today is my mom's birthday! So happy birthday to the best mom in the world; I'm blessed that you are my mother.
Saving Max by Antoinette van Heugten is a frightening and suspenseful look at what a mother will do for love. Danielle Parkman has reached the end of her endurance with sixteen-year-old son Max. He's long suffered from Asperger's, an illness that is an autism spectrum disorder, but he's recently become violent toward her. When she discovered his journal with a detailed plan for his planned suicide, she feels like she has no choice but to bring him to Maitland, a well-known psychiatric facility for diagnosing mental illness. Once there, she bonds with Mariane Morrison whose son, Jonas, suffers from severe self-abuse and autism issues, but Max seems to take an immediate dislike toward Jonas and begins acting out aggressively to him. Danielle's worries escalate when Maitland diagnoses Max as being schizophrenic and refuses Danielle access to him. Then she discovers Jonas dead in his room, covered in blood, with Max lying unconscious next to him and holding the murder weapon. She snaps and her attempts to save him from being tried with the murder cause her to be charged along with him. How far will Danielle be forced to go to prove that her son is innocent of murder and what will she find in her investigation? van Heugten has tapped into a mother's worst fears and creates a terrifying and haunting suspense story. I wanted to shake Danielle for her stubborn and often illegal actions, but couldn't help admiring her unstoppable love and devotion to Max. What she discovers is beyond terrifying and evil. The writing is fast-paced and compelling is occasionally a bit graphic for my taste (I could have gone without the scene on the videotape). van Heugten's portrayal of a mother dealing with the challenges of an autistic child is inspiring and will make all readers who are moms grateful for the child they have.
Thank you to Phenix & Phenix Publicity for providing me with a copy of this book for review!
Pamela’s first novel, Walk Back The Cat (Broadman & Holman. May, 2006) is the story of an embittered and powerful clergyman who learns an ancient secret, confronting him with truth and a choice that may destroy him.
She is also the best-selling author of the acclaimed non-fiction book Faith On Trial, published by Broadman & Holman in 1999, currently in its third printing.
Although it was written for non-lawyers, Faith On Trial was also chosen as a text for a course on law and religion at Yale Law School in the Spring of 2000, along with The Case For Christ by Lee Stroble. Continuing the apologetics begun in Faith On Trial, Pamela also appears with Gary Habermas, Josh McDowell, Darrell Bock, Lee Stroble, and others in the film Jesus: Fact or Fiction, a Campus Crusade for Christ production.
Her most recent novel, The Moon in the Mango Tree (B&H Publishing Group, May 2008) is currently available online and in bookstores everywhere. Set in the 1920’s and based on a true story, it is about a woman faced with making a choice between career and love, and her search for faith over the glittering decade. Pamela’s upcoming book, Dancing On Glass, which was recently short-listed as a finalist for the Faulkner/Wisdom creative writing novel award, will be released in the spring of 2011, and she is currently working on a sequel.
ABOUT THE BOOK
A frightened apostle in AD 33, a tragic child in the 1950s, and a slick, twenty-first century church leader are all linked by the secret of the Shroud of Turin, the purported burial cloth of Jesus-and by something more.
Wesley Bright, a corrupt, media-savvy clergyman, is out to destroy the Christian church of the God who abandoned him in his boyhood. Likable and entertaining, Bright keeps his motives well hidden. But as he seeks revenge, leading the church toward unknowing destruction, the mysterious Shroud of Turin stands in his way.
Strange characters and clues emerge like shadows limned in mist as the most recent discoveries on the Shroud connect the pieces of a fascinating puzzle. When Wesley learns the ancient secret, he’s forced to confront a terrible choice: keep the secret—and the power, wealth, and fame he’s won over the years—or expose it...and lose everything.
Delia Parr, pen name for Mary Lechleidner, is the author of 10 historical novels and the winner of several awards, including the Laurel Wreath Award for Historical Romance and the Aspen Gold Award for Best Inspirational Book. She is a full-time high school teacher who spends her summer vacations writing and kayaking. The mother of three grown children, she lives in Collingswood, New Jersey.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Ruth Livingstone's life changes drastically the day her father puts a young child in her arms and sends her to a small village in New Jersey under an assumed name. There Ruth pretends to be a widow and quietly secludes herself until her father is acquitted of a crime.
But with the emergence of the penny press, the imagination of the reading public is stirred, and her father's trial stands center stage. Asher Tripp is the brash newspaperman who determines that this case is the event he can use to redeem himself as a journalist.
Ruth finds solace tending a garden along the banks of the Toms River--a place where she can find a measure of peace in the midst of the sorrow that continues to build. It is also here that Asher Tripp finds a temporary residence, all in an attempt to discover if the lovely creature known as Widow Malloy is truly Ruth Livingstone, the woman every newspaper has been looking for.
Love begins to slowly bloom...but is the affection they share strong enough to withstand the secrets that separate them?
Love's First Bloom by Delia Parr is a historical romance filled with many twists. Ruth Livingstone's father is a pastor in New York, well-known for his work getting prostitutes to turn to Jesus. When he is accused of murdering one of them, he forces Ruth to take the prostitute's secret toddler daughter, Lily, and take on the identity of a woman in his program to protect the child while he is tried for the crime. Ruth moves to New Jersey and lives with a family who takes in former prostitutes trying to make a new life for themselves, but not long after she disappears, the press takes note of her absence and accuses her father of murdering her as well. The hunt is on by all of the major newspapers to find Ruth, including Jake Tripp who wants to redeem himself as a journalist after making a terrible mistake two years ago and nearly destroying the newspaper he owns with his brother, Clifford. Clifford gives Jake an assignment that will give him redemption: find Ruth Livingstone and get the real story behind the prostitute's murder. He moves to the same small New Jersey town Ruth is staying in and takes on a false identity to gain her trust but instead finds himself falling for the young woman who has been forced to live away from her father and pretend to be something she's not. I had a hard time believing that a pastor would do this to his daughter, it just seemed unbelievable to me, but when I swallowed my disbelief, other events continued to be forced by the plot: a unexpected death, a letter from beyond exposing a long-lost child, and the identity of the killer both made me go "what??" Parr's previous book, Heart's Awakening was a beautiful and poignant historical romance. This one had some great characters, but they were at the mercy of a far-fetched plot that did them no favors.
I don't like using the word hate, but that's the only word I can use to describe my feeling for road construction. I know I'm not alone in that feeling. I resent having to take detours or to slow down when the road is reduced to one lane. I glare at the person holding the Slow/Stop sign who controls whether or not I can travel on this road, as well as those on the big vehicles that slow me down along the way.
I get edgy as soon as I see an orange diamond shaped sign warning me "Road Construction Ahead." As the signs let me know I'm getting closer and closer to the destruction, my hands grip the wheel more tightly, and I start to grind my teeth. It slows down my travel, messes with my schedule and overall just makes me mad!
Over the last month, the county was doing construction on the road to my mom's house. I had to travel it every time I wanted to see her! I made snide comments about them dragging the job out to continue making $30/hour, and argued that I hadn't noticed anything wrong with the road in the first place. But they finished last week, and I suddenly noticed how much smoother the road is on my drive. The road is a pretty (as pretty as black-top can be) ribbon with bright unfaded yellow stripes, and my wheels don't make the funny errrr noise I didn't even notice until it was gone.
It made me realize that I often have the same attitude when God decides to do some road construction on my heart. I don't handle change well, and I usually don't see (or refuse to see) the need for it. I get cranky when I notice things not going my way, when I have to slow down and change the way I'm doing things. I complain. I argue with God. I just plain don't like it. But later, often years down the line, I can see why my life had to change, why He did the construction, and I am glad that for it.
You have heard these things; look at them all. Will you not admit them? "From now on I will tell you of newthings, of hidden things unknown to you. Isaiah 48:6
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! 2 Corinthians 5:17
See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland. Isaiah 43: 9
Doesn't that last verse just sound like road construction to you? Open your heart to any changes God may be bringing your way today, because I promise, in the end, the road will be much smoother!
A Hope Undaunted by Julie Lessman is the first book in the Winds of Change series. It follows the romantic life of Katie, the youngest daughter in the O'Connor family of Boston. It you haven't read the previous series, Daughters of Boston, about the elder three daughters, stop right here, go out and read them immediately not because you have to to enjoy this story, but because they are outstanding romances! Katie is just eighteen and determined to live life on her terms. She intends to go to law school to defend women's rights and marry a wealthy man who will never boss her around or try to run her life. Jack seems to perfectly fit her goals, until one too many broken curfews causes her father Patrick to put her on confinement, including a summer of volunteering at the area orphanage/adoption center/girls' home. Furious not only at the "job", she's also angry and being forced to work for her former childhood rival, Luke McGee. Luke and Katie took turns annoying each other as children, but their antagonism creates sparks that Katie doesn't know how to fit in with her life plan. Mix in trouble brewing in Faith and Colin's marriage, Lizzie's pregnancy, and Marcy suffering from empty nest syndrome, and you have a drama-packed novel. I was up until nearly 3 am finishing this book, because once I started, I just couldn't put it down. Lessman writes the spiciest Christian romance (without being graphic) I've ever read! Her novels depict Christian marriage as a romantic and hot where the sex isn't just good for honeymooners. Patrick and Marcy still enjoy each other after thirty+ years of marriage, as do all of their married children. Lessman addresses issues of women's rights, husband/wife submission, and trusting God with our lives, all within the frame of a terrific historical romance. Sean and Steven, the unmarried sons are obviously the focus of the next books in the series, and I can't wait to read them.
Thank you to Revell Books for providing me with a copy of this book for review. Available in September from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group at your favorite bookseller.
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!
List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 384 pages
Publisher: Monarch Books (August 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1854249681
ISBN-13: 978-1854249685
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Felicity flung her history book against the wall. She wasn’t studying for the priesthood to learn about ancient saints. She wanted to bring justice to this screwed-up world. Children were starving in Africa, war was ravaging the Middle East, women everywhere were treated as inferiors. Even here in England—
She stopped her internal rant when she realized the crash of her book had obscured the knock at her door. Reluctantly she picked up the book, noting with satisfaction the smudge it had left on the wall, and went into the hall. Her groan wasn’t entirely internal when she made out the black cassock and grey scapular of her caller through the glass panel of the door. She couldn’t have been in less of a mood to see one of the long-faced monks who ran the College of the Transfiguration which she had chosen to attend in a moment of temporary insanity. She jerked the door open with a bang.
“Father Dominic!” Felicity was immediately sorry for her surly mood. Fr. Dominic was an entirely different matter. She was always happy to see him. “I didn’t realize you were back from your pilgrimage.” She held the door wide for him as he limped down the hall to her living room.
“Just returned, my dear. Just returned.” As he spoke he smiled with a twinkle in his eyes that belied his 85 years, but he couldn’t quite suppress a small sigh as he lowered himself stiffly onto her sofa.
“I’ll put the kettle on.” Felicity turned toward her small kitchen. “I’m so sorry I don’t have any scones.”
“No, no. Just tea today— black.”
She looked at him, puzzled for a moment, then remembered. Oh, yes— today was Ash Wednesday. Solemn fast and all that. Felicity mentally rolled her eyes as she filled the kettle with water and clicked it on.
A few minutes later she filled his cup with a steaming, amber stream of his favorite Yorkshire Gold tea. The Community had a year or two ago started serving a cheaper blend of tea and donating the money saved thereby to the African Children’s Fund Fr. Dominic chaired— a worthy cause, but the tea was dreadful.
He raised his cup, “Oh, who could ask for more? The nectar of the gods.” Still, she knew he was missing her scones for which he sometimes provided little jars of quince jam from the community kitchen. And at Christmas he had brought her favorite— slices of dark, rich fruit cake encased in marzipan an inch thick.
And yet today she wondered if he noticed what he was or wasn’t eating at all, he was so animated with his plans for the major funding drive the Children’s Fund was set to launch. “If one puts together abortion, infant mortality, AIDS and traumatic deaths, South Africa’s daily death toll is appalling. Thousands die in a matter of months. If this were a war, such troop causalities would not be acceptable. The entire future of that nation— the whole continent, really— is at stake. They simply cannot afford to lose so many of their people— especially the children who are the future. If you don’t maintain health and keep order, instability, violence and poverty tear a country apart.”
Felicity nodded vigorously. Yes, this was more like it. This was what she wanted to hear about, not some useless church history nonsense. Fr. Dominic had spent his life working in South Africa, and today his passion made every word strike her heart. “And it isn’t just South Africa, the rest of the continent looks to them— to us— for stability. If South Africa fails, millions of Africans will curse us— we who stand by and let it happen.”
Still, there was hope, Dominic had talked to key people while on pilgrimage and had secured a source for a vast amount for the fund, although he didn't say what that source was. “This will be enough to build a first rate hospital for AIDS babies in Africa and fund a research wing for prevention and cure. There are good leaders in the government. There are people working for justice. If we can just give the people hope to hold on— "
His eyes took on a dreamy look and a little smile played around his mouth. "Hope. That’s what it’s always been about. Through the centuries . . . At last, the treasure to be put to a truly worthy use. . ." He ducked his head and took a quick sip of tea. “Forgive me, I’ve said too much.” He became suddenly thoughtful and lapsed into a most uncharacteristic silence. All Felicity’s best efforts couldn’t coax any more stories from him. Perhaps it was just the solemnity of the day, but Felicity did miss his stories— even the ones she had heard multiple times.
He drained his cup and set it down. “Ah, thank you my dear. Always a pleasure to be in your bright company. But now I must be getting back up the hill. Father Superior has asked me to do the ashing at mass, so I must prepare.” He struggled to his feet, his broad-shouldered, once-muscular frame revealing gauntness under the weight of his black woolen cassock, as did the folds of flesh that hung beneath his square jaw.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he patted the canvas scrip which hung at his side from a strap slung across his chest. “I thought this might interest you.” He held out a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied up with old-fashioned string. His hand shook ever so slightly as Felicity took it from him. The gesture was so endearing: his shyness charming; his eagerness humbling. If the circumstances had been vastly different he could have been a suitor offering jewels to his beloved, or perhaps in an earlier age a troubadour bestowing an ode to his lady. And oddly enough, Felicity had the distinct impression that he hadn’t at all forgotten, but rather that delivering this small package had been the sole object of his visit. One might almost say his mission.
Felicity couldn’t help herself. She stepped forward and kissed him on his cheek. “Thank you, Father.”
Unexpectedly he placed his hands on each side of her forehead. “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you always.” She felt a warmth from his hands that infused her whole head and radiated toward her body as if she were being bathed in warm oil. She almost fancied a faint scent of spice as he made the sign of the cross over her.
Moving inside a bubble of hushed awe, she held the door for him and he walked out slowly, as if reluctant to leave, stepping carefully to avoid limping. “I’ll see you at mass, Father.”
She shut the door behind him and turned to the window to watch his slow progress down the uneven sidewalk, his grey scapular blowing in the wind. Somehow she wanted to call out to him, to cling to the moment, but already it was passing, the normality of the day moving in on a holy moment. Yet even as she turned away from the window, the warmth of his touch remained on her head. She turned back one last time, her hand held out to him, but no one was there. Only a fleeting shadow brushed the corner of her eye. She shivered, but when she blinked the sky was clear.
"Right. Back to the real world." Felicity spoke aloud to make herself focus. She looked longingly at the small brown package in her hand. It felt like a book. A very slim volume. Had Father D. found a publisher for his poetry? Her fingers plucked at the string. No. If this was a collection of her friend’s poetry perusing it must not be rushed. Reading it would be her treat when she finished the work she had set for herself for the day. Lectures had been cancelled to mark the solemnity, but essays would still be due when they were due. With a sigh she slipped the gift into one of the copious patch pockets of her skirt and returned to the tome on the Anglo-Saxon church Fr. Antony had assigned, forcing herself to concentrate on its obscure irrelevancies.
That had been the hardest thing she had found about adjusting to her first year at theological college— the constant pressure for work, the lack of time to pursue her own interests— and that in a monastery, even. You really would think, living with a bunch of monks and future priests you'd have all the time in the world. Felicity shook her head.
And besides that, there was no margin for error on her part. As one of only four women among the student body of forty-some— and the only American— Felicity felt a double burden to reach the highest standards possible. This was the first year the Anglo-Catholic College of the Transfiguration had accepted women as ordinands, although they were still housed off campus awaiting alterations to the dormitories. Before "the Great Change" a few women enrolled as students, but were not allowed equal status with the male ordinands. Last year, however, the college had submitted to the winds of change and the powers that be, so now the women had full status— and double pressure.
Felicity, however was never one to let such barriers discourage her. She could rise to any challenge and her determination to succeed in this male-dominated world knew no limits. Anyway, she had few complaints. She had been warmly welcomed— by most. A handful of ordinands and perhaps two or three of the monks or lay teachers were less warm— whether because she was female or because she was American she wasn’t sure.
Two hours later the insistent ringing of the community bell called her back from her reading just in time to fling a long black cassock on over her shetland sweater and dash across the street and up the hill to the Community grounds. Her long legs carried her the distance in under three minutes— she had timed it once. Once inside the high stone wall enclosing the Community she slowed her pace. It never failed. No matter how irritated she became with all the ancient ritual and nonsense of the place, there was something about the storybook quality of it all that got through to her in her quieter moments.
The spicy scent of incense met her at the door of the church. She dipped her finger in the bowl of holy water and turned to share it with the brother just behind her. Shy Br. Matthew extended a plump finger without meeting her eyes. They each crossed themselves and slipped into their seats in the choir.
“Miserere mei, Deus. . .” The choir and cantors had practiced for weeks to be able to sing Psalm 51 to the haunting melody composed by Allegri. The words ascended to the vaulted ceiling; the echoes reverberated. Candles flickered in the shadowed corners. She had been here for six months— long enough for the uniqueness of it all to have palled to boredom— but somehow there was a fascination she couldn't define. “Mystery,” the monks would tell her. And she could do no better.
What was the right term to describe how she was living? Counter-cultural existence? Alternate lifestyle? She pondered for a moment, then smiled. Parallel universe. That was it. She was definitely living in a parallel universe. The rest of the world was out there, going about its everyday life, with no idea that this world existed alongside of it.
It was a wonderful, cozy, secretive feeling as she thought of bankers and shopkeepers rushing home after a busy day, mothers preparing dinner for hungry school children, farmers milking their cows— all over this little green island the workaday world hummed along to the pace of modern life. And here she was on a verdant hillside in Yorkshire living a life hardly anyone knew even existed. Harry Potter. It was a very Harry Potter experience.
She forced her attention back to the penitential service with its weighty readings, somber plainchant responses, and minor key music set against purple vestments. Only when they came to the blessing of the ashes did she realize Fr. Dominic wasn’t in his usual place. Her disappointment was sharp. He had definitely said he was to do the imposition of the ashes and she had felt receiving the ashen cross on her forehead from that dear man would give the ancient ritual added meaning. Instead, Fr. Antony, one of the secular priests who lectured at the college, not even one of the monastic community, stood to hold the small pot of palm ashes while Fr. Anselm, the Superior of the Community, blessed them with holy water and incense.
Felicity knelt at the altar rail, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” The ashes were cold, a sooty mark of grief, gritty on her forehead.
“Amen,” she responded automatically.
She was back in her seat, turning ahead to the final hymn, “Forty Days and Forty Nights,” when she heard the soft slapping of sandals on the stone floor. Oh, there’s Fr. Dominic. She relaxed at the thought, putting away her worries that he had been taken suddenly ill. But her relief was short-lived when Fr. Clement, the Principal of the college, and Jonathan Breen, a scholar making a retreat at the monastery, slipped to the altar for their ashes.
The final notes of the postlude were still echoing high overhead when Felicity rose from her seat and hurried outside. Dinner, a vegetarian Lenten meal, would start in the refectory almost immediately and it wouldn’t do to be late. If she hurried, though, she could just dash back to her flat and pick up a book of Latin poetry for Fr. Dominic. She had a new volume of Horace, and she knew Fr. D loved the Roman's half Stoic, half Epicurean philosophy. He would have time to enjoy what he called his “guilty pleasure” while he recuperated from his indisposition.
She bounded up the single flight of stairs, flung open her door and came to a sudden halt. “Oh!” The cry was knocked from her like a punch in the stomach. She couldn’t believe it. She backed against the wall, closing her eyes in the hope that all would right itself when she opened them. It didn’t. The entire flat had been turned upside down.
Felicity stood frozen for perhaps a full minute, trying to take it all in: books pulled from shelves, drawers pulled from her desk, cushions flung from chairs. Hardly breathing, she rushed into her kitchen, bath, bedroom— all chaos— sheets and duvet ripped from her bed, clothes pulled from her wardrobe. She picked her way through scattered papers, dumped files, ripped letters. Dimly she registered that her computer and CD player were still there. Oh, and there was the Horace book still by her bed. She pulled her purse from under a pile of clothes. Empty. But its contents lay nearby. Credit cards and money still there.
Not robbery. So then, what? Why?
Was this an anti-women-clergy thing? Had she underestimated the extent of the resentment? Or was it an anti-American thing? The American president was widely unpopular in England. Had he done something to trigger an anti-American demonstration? Felicity would be the last to know. She never turned on the news.
Well, whatever it was, she would show them. If someone in the college thought they could scare her off by flinging a few books around she’d give them something new to think about. She stormed out, slamming her door hard enough to rattle the glass pane and strode up the hill at twice the speed she had run down it. Not for nothing her years of rigorous exercise at the ballet barre. When she reached the monastery grounds she keyed in the numbers on the security lock with angry jabs and barely waited for the high, black iron gates to swing open before she was speeding up the graveled walk.
Felicity's long blond braid thumped against her back as she charged onward, her mind seething. If those self-righteous prigs who posed as her fellow students thought they could put her off with some sophomoric trick—
She approached the college building, practicing the speech she would deliver to all assembled for dinner in the refectory: “Now listen up, you lot! If you think you can push me around just because your skirts are longer than mine. . .”
She punched a clenched-fist gesture toward her imaginary cassock-clad audience, then saw the Horace book still clutched in her hand. Oh, yes. First things first. She would have missed the opening prayer anyway. She would just run by Father D’s room— then she would tell them.
She hurried on up the path beyond the college to the monastery, ran her swipe card through the lock, and was halfway down the hall before the door clicked shut behind her. She had only been to Dominic’s room once before, to collect a poetry book he was anxious to share with her, but she would have had no trouble locating it, even had the door not been standing ajar.
She pushed it wider, preparing to step in. “Father D— ” she stopped at the sight of a man in a black cassock standing there praying. He jerked around at the sound of her voice and she recognized Fr. Antony, her church history lecturer.
She took a step backward when she saw the look of horror on his sheet-white face. “Felicity. Don’t come in.” He held up a hand to stop her and she saw it was covered with blood.
“Father D! Is he hemorrhaging?” She lunged forward, then stopped at the sight before her.
The whole room seemed covered in blood. Bright red splotches on the pristine white walls and bedding, on the open pages of a prayer book, on the statue of Our Lord, forming lurid stigmata on His hands extended in mercy. . .
And in the center of the floor, in a pool of red, his battered head all but unrecognizable— her beloved Father Dominic. The smell of fresh blood clogged her nostrils. Gorge rose in her throat.
“Felicity— ” Fr. Antony extended his reddened hands to her in a pleading gesture.
“No!” She screamed, wielding her Latin book as a shield against the blood, a red haze of shock and horror clouding her vision.
She couldn’t believe Antony's face could get even whiter. “Felicity, wait. Listen—”
She dimly registered his words, but the voice in her head shouted with far greater force. No! It can’t be. It's a mistake. She was in the wrong room. Must be. She shook her head against the nightmare she had seen yet couldn't accept that she had seen. Blackness rolled toward her.
She staggered backward into the hall and slumped to the floor as the room spun before her. She closed her eyes against the darkness as her mind reeled, groping for a coherent thought. How could this be?
Only a short time ago she had been reveling in the peace of this remote holy place. Where could such violence have come from? How was it possible here? In a place of prayer? To a holy man. Why?
If Fr. Dominic wasn't safe who could be?
And even as the questions tumbled, half-formed through her head, even as her mind denied the act her eyes saw, she knew she had to find an explanation. How could she continue studying— believing in— purpose and justice if such senseless irrationality reigned free?
Focusing on the questions gave her strength to get her feet under her again.
Antony was still standing dazed in the gore-splattered room looking as though he could collapse in the middle of the pool of blood. Felicity grabbed his arm, jerked him into the corridor, and shoved him against the wall where he stayed, leaning heavily. He held his hands before his face as if unbelieving they were his own. “When he missed mass I came to check on him. . . I felt for a pulse— ”
“We must get help!” Felicity looked wildly around.
“Yes, of course.” Her energy seemed to galvanize Antony. He pushed himself forward unsteadily. “Forgive me, I feel so stupid. It was the horror. I— we must tell the Superior. He’ll call the police.”
“Police? You mean an ambulance.” Felicity started toward the room again. Yes, that was it— how could she have dithered so when they must get help. “He’s lost so much blood, but maybe—”
“No!” Antony gripped her shoulder with more strength than she realized he was capable of. “Don’t go in there again, Felicity. It’s useless.”
She knew. She had seen the blood.
A Very Private Grave by Donna Fletcher Crow is the first book in the Monastery Murders. Felicity Howard is studying for her Anglican priesthood at a monastery in Yorkshire when her beloved friend Father Dominic is found brutally murdered in his room and another monk, Father Antony is standing over him covered in blood. When the authorities naturally suspect Antony, his superior orders him to flee with Felicity to discover what treasure that Dominic had discovered on his recent pilgrimage had caused his murder. The two retrace his path and that of St Cuthbert's body across northern England in hopes of finding the murderer and maybe even a treasure, while Felicity tries to forget that her traveling partner just may be a murder. Readers looking for a fast-paced treasure hunt will be disappointed with this book; The DaVinci Code it ain't. But readers who love a good historical yarn mixed with modern day suspense will fall in love with Crow's quiet and cerebral writing. Much of the book is a fascinating retelling of the mysterious life of Saint Cuthbert, as well as the travels of his body, which were even more fascinating! Antony is a tortured character with a secret past that haunts him in his interactions with Felicity. She is a smart and beautiful heroine who doesn't always have the best instincts when it comes to men. This intelligent writer has the potential to write a terrific series.
Mia is just seven years old but I feel like she regularly teaches me what it means to be a faithful follower of Jesus. She prays at the drop of a hat, and when I ask her to pray for something, she doesn't wait for privacy or for a free moment, she immediately drops her head and closes her eyes. Last week she wore shaped rubber bands, the new hot fashion item for girls under the age of eighteen, in Christian shapes to school and used them to tell her friends about God.
She's always doing something that touches my heart, but yesterday she made me realize just how deep her faith is. She had an assignment in school to come up with five things that are "slurped" and five things that are "spread". The slurped items are typical: chocolate milk, Sunny-Dee, etc. But the last item on Mia's spread list was God. It doesn't seem like a big deal until I realized that what it means is that God is always on her mind, and she looks for Him to be the answer to every question she faces. How amazing is that? I've gotten much better in my faith about keeping God on my mind throughout the day. When I was younger, I only ever thought about Him on Sundays or at night when I said my prayers. Now I wake up and offer a prayer, and I throw up little prayers or thoughts about God all day, but I can't truly say that He is always on my mind. Mia is a little girl, but she already knows that He is the answer to every question that matters, and that He's never far from her mind.
I am blessed to have her as my daughter; she just blows me away.
Outlive Your Life by Max Lucado is another outstanding devotional by one of the leading pastors in America. Lucado breaks the book of Acts into sixteen chapters and recreates it into modern day anecdotes and language to make the stories of the early Christian church fresh and alive. In the first years after Jesus' ascension to Heaven, the church exploded in growth, regularly performed miracles, and took care of the needy by working together. The world today is filled with those suffering from hunger, facing abject poverty, and terrible illness, and the church doesn't seem to be doing much about it. Lucado encourages readers to start making a difference on an individual level using Acts and the apostles as their inspiration. Rather than feeling overwhelmed by the immensity of the problems in the world, he wants readers to do something small and real and then allow God to bless it. There are stories of real people today making an impact in unexpected ways which will help readers see that change is possible and within reach. Lucado's writing is always down-to-earth, conversational, relevant, and enjoyable to read.
Thank you to Thomas Nelson for providing me with a copy of this book for review.
Kim Vogel Sawyer is the author of fifteen novels, including several CBA and ECPA bestsellers. Her books have won the ACFW Book of the Year Award, the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and the Inspirational Readers Choice Award. Kim is active in her church, where she leads women's fellowship and participates in both voice and bell choirs. In her spare time, she enjoys drama, quilting, and calligraphy. Kim and her husband, Don, reside in central Kansas, and have three daughters and six grandchildren.
ABOUT THE BOOK
As three friends who grew up in the same orphanage head off to college together, they each harbor a cherished dream.
Libby Conley hopes to become a famous journalist. Pete Leidig believes God has called him to study to become a minister. And Bennett Martin plans to pledge a fraternity, find a place to belong, and have as much fun as possible.
But as tensions rise around the world on the brink of World War I, the friends' differing aspirations and opinions begin to divide them, as well. And when Libby makes a shocking discovery about Pete's family, will it drive a final wedge between the friends or bond them in ways they never anticipated?
In Every Heartbeat by Kim Vogel Sawyer is the sequel to My Heart Remembers. Pete, Libby, and Bennett grew up as friends in an orphanage run by Isabelle Rowley. Pete was abandoned by his parents to care for himself on the streets when he was just seven, and shortly after that he lost his leg in a trolley accident. His survival of that miracle set his heart on serving the Lord as a minister at a young age. Libby was orphaned when her parents died before she could remember them, and she took Isabelle's sister, Maelle, as a surrogate mother. Libby is determined to be a writer and make her name in the world. Bennett was dropped off at an orphanage as an infant and left that one as a young child when he didn't feel loved, then Isabelle's husband discovered him and brought him home to be loved as part of their children's home. The three are heading off for college with very different goals in mind, and for the first time, they find themselves pulled apart. Sawyer excels at creating sympathetic characters who readers quickly grow to love, and this trio is no exception. Libby and Pete are fighting their mutual attraction, and Bennett still struggles at feeling that he's never found a place to fit in. Readers don't need to have read the previous novel to enjoy these characters and be moved by this touching story.
Since 2000, Shelley Sabga has sold twenty-six novels to numerous publishers. She has written a seven book contemporary series for Avalon books. She also published The Love Letter, a western for Avalon. Five Star Expressions published Suddenly, You in February of 2007. This novel is a historical western set in the mountains of Colorado.
Shelley has written nine novels for Harlequin American Romance. Cinderella Christmas, her first novel with them, reached number six on the Waldenbooks Bestseller list. Her second book with them, Simple Gifts won RT Magazine’s Reviewer’s Choice award for best Harlequin American Romance of 2006. The Mommy Bride, was chosen by Romantic Times Magazine as one of their TOP PICKS for May, 2008.
Under the name Shelley Shepard Gray, Shelley writes Amish romances for Harper Collins’ inspirational line, Avon Inspire. HIDDEN and WANTED the first two novels of her ‘Sisters of the Heart’ series, were chosen to be Alternate Selections for the Doubleday/ Literary Guild Book Club. FORGIVEN, book 3, has received glowing reviews. Avon Inspire is releasing four novels by Shelley this year.
Before writing romances, Shelley lived in Texas and Colorado, where she taught school and earned both her bachelors and masters degrees in education. She now lives in southern Ohio and writes full time. Shelley is married, the mother of two teenagers, and is an active member of her church.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Some promises are meant to be broken...
Until Robert Miller met Lilly Allen, his world had been dark. A widower after only two years of marriage, he'd been living in a haze, feeling that, at twenty-four, his life was already over.
But thanks to his friendship with Lilly, he now has new reasons to wake up each day. He knows his connection to her doesn't make sense. She's only nineteen, with a past the whole town talks about. Even more, she's not Amish, like Robert. A marriage between the two of them could never happen.
Lilly's heart is drawn to Robert, not to his faith. No matter how much she admires his quiet strength and dependability, she doesn't think she could ever give up her independence and reliance on the modern world. Is their love doomed before it even begins?
Autumn's Promise by Shelley Shepard Gray is the third and final book in the Seasons of Sugarcreek series. Lilly Allen is finally recovering from her accidental pregnancy and the subsequent miscarriage that shattered her life when she learns that her mother is pregnant. Robert Miller is still grieving the death of his wife Grace, to cancer several years ago. At twenty-four, he's ready to start looking for love in his life again, and much to his surprise he seems to find that in Lilly, despite his being Amish and she is Englisch. The two wounded souls come together and ease each other's sad burden, but their differences may just be too much to allow them to be together forever, especially with the interference of their families. Gray's books are always some of my favorites in the growing genre of bonnet lit, and she continues to write compelling and poignant stories about the Plain people. Lilly and Robert seem such a natural couple, despite their differences, that as a reader, I was furious with the characters who wanted them apart. The ending is a bit of a surprise, and from the author's note, it appears that it wasn't what the author expected either. Great characters are those that sometimes don't act the way in which the author expects; Lilly and Robert are on that level. Gray has firmly established herself as a terrific writer with this series.
The winner of Ted Dekker's Immanuel's Veins T-shirt contest was Grandma7. I'm not sure of the identity of this commenter, so if it's you, please send me an email right away so you can get your prize. Thank you to everyone who entered!
The Black Madonna by Davis Bunn is the second book in the Storm Syrrell series. Storm is still trying to rebuild her antique dealership after the death of her grandfather and imprisonment of her father for his embezzling when she gets a too-good-to-be-true job offer to buy a Russian painting at an art auction. When the buyer pays more than twice what the item is worth, Storm becomes suspicious, and her worries only grow when she is ordered to buy more items at a price a good deal more than their value and pitting her against another dealer who is intent to run her out of business. Raphael Danton, her buyer, is an agent for a mystery man, and has a tragic history that has made him angry at the world until Storm's fiery spirit cracks the shell around his heart. When Storm's life is threatened because of her buys, best friend Emma Webb, a agent for Homeland Security, steps in to help, but Emma's heart is torn by the news that her lover Harry Bennett has been killed by a bomb in the Middle East. Bunn brings back all of the interesting characters from the first book, Gold of Kings, and adds some more fascinating ones. The story is so filled with twists and turns, back-stabbing, assassination attempts, kidnapping, and political machinations that the pages just fly by. Bunn parcels out information to the reader carefully, building suspense and tension to an almost intolerable tautness. Emma is an outstanding character who often beats up the bad guy before the men around her even have time to react, definitely a rarity in adventure novels. The climax is almost anti-climactic after the rest of the thrilling novel, but there is obviously another sequel in the works because the reader is left hanging and worrying about what will happen next to heroine Storm.
Thank you to Glass Road Publicity for providing me with a copy of this book for review.
I'll be starting a new book contest on Sunday, so make sure you come back then!
Most readers want to know how authors 'got started' writing. My first novel, Threads of Love, was conceived when I was commuting sixty miles to work each day. I wanted to tell the story of a pioneer girl coming to Kansas and the faith that sustained her as she adjusted to a new life. When the book was completed, I tucked it away. I had absolutely no idea how publication of a book occurred and had given no thought to the concept. However, through a co-worker, I was directed to Tracie Peterson who, at that time, worked down the hall from me. Having never met Tracie, I was totally unaware of her writing career, but God intervened. The rest is, as they say, history....
With a graciousness that continues to amaze me, Tracie agreed to read my story, directed me to a publisher, and gave me information on a Christian writers conference. Since that first encounter many years ago, I have been blessed with the publication of numerous books, novellas and a juvenile fiction book. Joyously, Tracie and I had the opportunity to develop a blessed friendship. In fact, we have co-authored several series together, including The Bells of Lowell, the Lights of Lowell and The Broadmoor Legacy. In addition, I have continued to write several solo series. Please check those out on the "My Books" page on my website.
God's design on the lives of His people never ceases to amaze me! Because I am eternally grateful for my own forgiveness and salvation, I strive to share God's desire to pull us from the mire of sin and set us free to live exciting lives for Him. Through His abundant grace and love, God gifts and equips each of us to share the story of salvation and eternal life. Won't you share His story using the special gifts He has given you?
ABOUT THE BOOK
Journey to the charming villages of the Amana Colonies, 1885
Gretchen Kohler is an Amana storekeeper's daughter with a secret passion for writing. But artistic pursuits are frowned upon in her conservative Amana village, so she confines her poems and stories to her journals, letting only close friends read them.
When a young reporter comes into her store, she believes she's found a kindred spirit. She shares a few of her stories with him--only to have her trust betrayed in the worst of ways, resulting in trouble for her entire community.
The scandal is made even worse by the fact that gypsies have camped nearby and seem to be preying upon the Amanans' compassionate, pacifist nature. Will Gretchen lose her job, her reputation, and the love of her childhood beau all because of one bad decision?
Judith Miller is an award-winning author whose avid research and love for history are reflected in her novels, two of which have placed in the CBA top ten lists. In addition to her writing, Judy is a certified legal assistant. Judy makes her home in Topeka, Kansas.
More Than Words by Judith Miller is the second book in the Daughters of Amana series. Gretchen Kohler is mostly content working in the town store, although she misses her father's affection and attention that has waned since the death of her mother. He often leaves her in charge of the stores and of younger brother Stefan, which creates trouble when the Gypsies come to town and Stefan just can't seem to stay away. Gretchen loses herself writing in her journal. She composes poems and essays until Allan Finley arrives in the small community claiming a desire to joining them and shows an interest in Gretchen that no one but barber and childhood sweetheart Conrad has been giving her. Although Gretchen is often angry at Stefan for breaking the strict rules of their community, she's just as guilty, but it's easy for her to rationalize away her own actions until her pride causes damage to the entire community in a way she didn't see coming, and it just may cause her to lose her standing within the village and the love of Conrad. It's not necessary to have read the first book in the series because I didn't notice any reference to the characters from the first novel. I would have liked to see just a glimpse of them though. Gretchen is completely likable is impulsive young woman that readers will alternately want to hug and shake silly. I felt that Conrad was a bit too bland for Gretchen, although he did prove himself true, I understood her attraction for Allan. There's a strong message here about not judging a group by a single representative of it. I don't feel that this was as strong as the first book in the series, but it's still an enjoyable read.
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!
***Special thanks to Karri James of Harvest House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
BJ Hoff’s bestselling historical novels continue to cross the boundaries of religion, language, and culture to capture a worldwide reading audience. Her books include Song of Erin and American Anthem and such popular series as The Riverhaven Years, The Mountain Song Legacy, and The Emerald Ballad. Hoff’s stories, although set in the past, are always relevant to the present. Whether her characters move about in small country towns or metropolitan areas, reside in Amish settlements or in coal company houses, she creates communities where people can form relationships, raise families, pursue their faith, and experience the mountains and valleys of life. BJ and her husband make their home in Ohio.
List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 384 pages
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (July 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0736927891
ISBN-13: 978-0736927895
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Friends Old and New
Youth must with time decay…
Beauty must fade away…
Castles are sacked in war…
Chieftains are scattered far…
Truth is a fixed star….
From “Aileen Aroon” GERALD GRIFFIN (1803–1840)
New York City
August 1847
It was a fine summer evening in the city, the kind of sweet, soft evening that made the young delight in their youth and the elderly content with their lot.
On this evening Daniel Kavanagh and Tierney Burke were indulging in one of their favorite pastimes—stuffing themselves with pastries from Krueger’s bakery as they lounged against the glass front of the building. As usual, Tierney was buying. Daniel as yet had no job and no money. But Tierney, with a week’s pay in his pocket from his job at the hotel and a month’s wages due from his part-time job at Patrick Walsh’s estate, declared he felt rotten with money and eager to enjoy it.
It had been a good day, Daniel decided as he polished off his last sugar kucken. His mother was visiting, as she did every other Saturday, delivered as always by one of the Farmington carriages. Every Saturday without fail, a carriage either brought her to the Burkes’, or came to collect Daniel for a visit at the Farmington mansion uptown, where his mother worked.
In truth, Daniel thought he preferred the Saturdays he spent at the Farmingtons’, for then he could visit with his friend, Evan Whittaker, and the Fitzgerald children, as well as his mother. He enjoyed his temporary living arrangement with Uncle Mike and Tierney, but often he found himself missing the daily contact with his mother and the Fitzgeralds—especially Katie.
The thought of Katie brought a smile to his face and a sting of worry to his mind. Katie was both his friend and his sweetheart; they would marry when they were of age—that had been decided long ago.
So committed to their future plans was he that Daniel paid little heed to Tierney’s relentless teasing about his “lassie.” The fact was that Katie Fitzgerald had been his girl from the time they were wee wanes back in the village, and he did not mind who knew it. But Katie had ever been frail, and the famine and the long, horrific ship crossing had taken a fierce toll on her.
Daniel could not help but fret about her health. He would have thought the good, plentiful food and proper medical attention she was receiving at the Farmingtons’ would be enough to have her feeling fit by now. Instead, she scarcely seemed improved at all.
Still, as his mother had reminded him just today, three months was not really so long a time—not with all the troubles Katie had been through. “You must be patient, Daniel John,” she had cautioned him. “You must be patient and faithful with your prayers.”
He was trying to be both, but it was hard, all the same, not to worry.
Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Daniel turned his attention to Pearl Street. Although darkness was gathering, most of the neighborhood seemed to be in no hurry to return to their cramped living quarters. The sultry August atmosphere carried the sounds of children playing, mothers scolding, dogs barking, and men arguing. Most of the voices were thick with Irish brogue, although German and an occasional stream of Italian could also be heard.
Almost as thick as the cacophony of immigrant voices were the odors that mingled on the night air. The ever-present stench of piled-up garbage in the streets had grown worse with the recent warm temperatures; the fumes from sewage and animal droppings were more noxious than ever.
Still, there was no spoiling the pleasure of such a fine evening. Besides, Daniel was growing accustomed to the aroma of New York. Indeed, the smell rarely bothered him at all these days; it was negligible compared to the stench of Ireland’s rotten potato fields and the countless dead bodies lying alongside the country’s roads.
“So, then,” Tierney said, downing a nut kipfel in one bite before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “will they tie the knot soon, do you think? Your mum and my da?”
It was a question Tierney seemed bent on asking at least once a week, a question that continued to make Daniel feel awkward—almost as if his mother were somehow under an obligation to marry Uncle Mike. More and more Tierney’s prodding put Daniel on guard, made him feel the need to defend his mother—never mind that he secretly harbored the same question.
“I don’t suppose it’s for either of us to guess,” he muttered in reply. “Sure, and Mother does care a great deal for Uncle Mike.”
Tierney gave a curt, doubtful nod, turning the full intensity of his unnerving ice-blue stare on Daniel. “If that’s so,” he said, “then why is she still holding out?”
Daniel bristled. “It’s not that she’s holding out,” he protested. “She just needs more time, don’t you see? They haven’t seen each other for more than seventeen years, after all! She can hardly be expected to jump into marriage right away!”
Tierney regarded him with a speculative look, then shrugged. “You’re right, of course,” he said cheerfully, shoving his hands into his pockets. As if no friction whatever had occurred between them, he tilted a quick grin at Daniel. “I expect I’m just impatient because I’m wanting to see them wed.”
Not for the first time, Daniel found himself disarmed by his quicksilver friend. The older boy had a way of making abrasive, outrageous remarks, then quickly backing off, as if sensing he had caused Daniel discomfort.
Tierney had an incredible energy about him, a tension that sometimes made it seem that any instant he might leap from the ground and take off flying. He was impatient and blunt, decisive and headstrong. Yet he had an obvious streak of kindness, even gentleness, that could appear at the most unexpected moments.
Living with him was akin to keeping company with a hurricane. Wild and impetuous one moment, eager and conciliatory the next, he was entirely unpredictable—and a great deal more fun than any boy Daniel had ever known.
He liked Tierney immensely. In truth, he wished his mother would marry Uncle Mike so they could be a real family.
“If they do get married,” Tierney was saying, watching Daniel with a teasing grin, “you and I will be brothers. How do you feel about that, Danny-boy?”
Daniel rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop a smile of pleasure. “Sure, and won’t I be the lucky lad, then?”
Tierney wiggled his dark brows. “Sure, and won’t you at that?” he shot back, perfectly mimicking Daniel’s brogue.
Avoiding Michael’s eyes, Nora stared at the flickering candle in the middle of the kitchen table.
The silence in the room, while not entirely strained, was awkward, to say the least. Nora had sensed Michael’s impatience early in their visit. She thought she understood it; certainly, she could not fault the man for wanting more of a commitment than she’d been able to grant him thus far.
On the other hand, she didn’t know how she could have handled things between them any differently. From the day of their reunion—Nora’s first day in New York City—she had done her best to be entirely honest with Michael. She had told him then—and on other occasions since—that she cared for him deeply but could not marry him for a time, if ever.
In the weeks and months that followed her arrival in New York, Nora’s life had changed radically. All that she had once held dear, everything familiar, had been mercilessly torn away from her. She had lost her home and her entire family except for Daniel John. Yet much had been given to her as well.
God had been good—and faithful. Daniel John had a home with Michael and Tierney, and she and the orphaned Fitzgerald children were safe and snug in the Farmington mansion with Lewis Farmington and his daughter, Sara—people who must be, Nora was certain, the kindest human beings God ever created.
Aye, she had fine lodgings—even a job—and she had friends, good friends: Michael, Evan Whittaker, Sara and Lewis Farmington, and Ginger, the Farmingtons’ delightful housekeeper. There was more food on her plate than she could eat, and a fire to warm her bones for the coming winter. Had any other penniless widow-woman ever been so blessed?
Yet when it came to Michael, something deep within her warned her to wait, to go slowly. There were times when she wanted nothing more than to run to the shelter of the man’s brawny arms and accept the security he seemed so set on offering—the security of a friendship that dated back to their childhood, the security of marriage and a home of her own. But in the next instant she would find herself drawing back, shying away from the idea of Michael as the solution to her problems.
She needed time, perhaps a great deal of time. Of that much, at least, she was certain. Time to heal, time to seek direction for her life. God’s direction.
And time to forget Morgan Fitzgerald…
“The Farmingtons seem more than pleased with your work for them,” Michael said, breaking the silence and jarring Nora back to her surroundings. “They cannot say enough good things about you.”
Struggling to put aside her nagging melancholy, Nora smiled and made a weak dismissing motion with her hand. “Sure, they are only being kind,” she said. “ ’Tis little enough they allow me to do. I suppose they still think me ill, but in truth I’m feeling much stronger.”
“I can believe that,” Michael said, studying her with open approval. “You’re looking more fit each day. I think you might have even gained a bit at last.”
Surprised, Nora glanced down at her figure. She did feel stronger physically, stronger than she had for months. “Indeed. Perhaps with all this fine American food, I’ll grow as round as Pumpkin Emmie,” she said, trying to ease the tension between them with reference to daft Emmie Fahey, one of the terrors of their youth.
“You’ve a ways to go, there,” Michael said, meeting her smile. “But you are looking more yourself, lass, and that’s the truth.”
Unnerved by the way he was scrutinizing her, Nora glanced away. “Our sons are becoming good friends, it seems.”
Michael, too, seemed relieved to move to safer ground. “Aye, they are,” he answered eagerly. “And I couldn’t be happier for it. Your Daniel is a fine boy—a good influence on that rascal of mine.”
“Oh, Michael,” Nora protested, “I think you’re far too hard on Tierney! He doesn’t seem nearly the rogue you paint him to be.”
With a sigh, Michael rose from the table to put the kettle on for more tea. “I’m the first to admit Tierney’s not a bad boy. Nevertheless, he can be a handful. And unpredictable—” He shook his head as he started for the stove. “Why, I don’t know what to expect from the lad one minute to the next, and that’s the truth.”
“It’s not an easy age for him, Michael. Don’t you remember how it was, being more grown-up than child, yet not quite either?”
Nora could have answered her own question. Michael had never seemed anything but a man grown, had never appeared to know the meaning of childishness or uncertainty, at least not in the time she had known him.
Returning with the kettle, he offered Nora more tea. When she declined, he proceeded to pour himself a fresh cup. “What I remember most about being a boy,” he said with just the ghost of a smile, “was trying to keep you and our lad, Morgan, out of the soup.”
Nora glanced quickly away. “Aye, you were like a brother to the both of us,” she said quietly.
“It wasn’t a brother I wanted to be to you, Nora,” he said pointedly, pausing with the kettle suspended above his cup. “That was your choice, not mine.”
“Michael—”
He looked at her, setting the kettle down between them. “Is it still Morgan, then?” A muscle at the side of his mouth tightened. “Is he the reason you cannot bring yourself to marry me?”
“No! No, Michael, it is not Morgan! I’ve tried to explain all this before. I thought you understood…”
His gaze on her didn’t waver. “Nora, I have tried. But I’m not blind, lass. I see the way things are.”
Nora looked away, but she could still feel his eyes on her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that Morgan Fitzgerald still occupies a large space in your heart—perhaps so great a space there will never be room for another.”
“Michael—”
He waved away her protest, saying nothing. Instead, he went to stand at the window, his back to her. He stood there for a long time in silence. At last, he drew in a deep sigh and said quietly, “We’d be good together, I think. We could build a fine life, a good home—watch our boys grow to manhood.” Stopping he turned to face her. “Perhaps we could even have more children…”
He let his words drift away, unfinished. As he stood there, his gaze fixed on her face, the frustration that had hardened his expression earlier faded, giving way to a rare tenderness. The grim lines about his mouth seemed to disappear, and his eyes took on a gentle smile.
“We go back a long way, you and I,” he said softly. “And our boys—why, they’re well on their way to being brothers already. Ah, it could work for us, Nora! You must see that.” Shoving his hands down deep into his pockets, he stood watching her. “I know I cannot offer you much in the way of material things just yet, but we’d have enough, enough for us all. And things will improve, I can promise you that. I have prospects on the force—”
“Oh, Michael, you know none of that matters to me!”
With three broad strides he closed the distance between them. Bracing both hands palms down on the tabletop, he brought his face close to hers, his eyes burning. “What, then, Nora? What does matter? Tell me, lass, for I’ll do whatever I can to make this work for us. I swear I will! Tell me what I can do to convince you to marry me.”
Nora remembered he had asked her that same question once before, when he was still a young man preparing to go to America. He had done his best then, too, to convince her to be his wife.
That had been seventeen years ago. Seventeen years, and her answer was still not what he wanted to hear.
“Michael, you know you have ever been…special…to me.”
He said nothing, simply went on searching her eyes, his large, blunt hands now clenched to fists atop the table.
“I do care for you…” She did. She was not immune to Michael’s appeal, his almost arrogant handsomeness, the strength that seemed to pulse from him. But more than that, and far deeper, were the memories that bound them, the friendship that even today anchored their affection for each other. She could not bring herself to hurt him, but neither could she lie to him!
Suddenly, he stunned her by grasping both her hands in his and pulling her up from the chair to face him. Holding her hands firmly, he drew her to him. “And I care for you, Nora,” he said, his voice gruff. With one hand he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his relentless gaze. “I have always cared for you, lass, and that’s the truth.”
Trembling, Nora held her breath as he bent to press his lips to hers. Irrationally, she almost wished Michael’s kiss would blind her with love for him, send stars shooting through her. Instead, she felt only the gentle warmth, the same sweet, sad affection she had felt for him all those years so long ago when he had kissed her goodbye, regret brimming in his eyes, before sailing for America.
He knew. He said nothing, but she felt his knowing as she stood there, miserable beneath those dark, searching eyes that seemed to probe her very soul. Gradually he freed her from his embrace, setting her gently away from him with a sad smile.
“You have been through a great sorrow,” he said huskily. “And I am asking too much of you, too soon. I’m sorry, lass. Perhaps it’s just that I’m anxious for you to realize that when you’re ready, I will be here. I will wait.”
“Oh, Michael, please—don’t…”
He put a finger to her lips to silence her. “Enough sober talk for tonight. Why don’t we have us a stroll? We’ll go and find the lads and see what they’re up to.”
Relieved, Nora nodded, managing a smile. “Aye, I’d like that.”
Michael smiled, too, watching her with infinite tenderness. Framing her face between his calloused hands, he brushed his lips over her forehead. “Remember that I am still your friend, Nora Ellen. No matter what happens—or does not happen—between us, I will always be your friend.”
Nora could have wept for gratitude at his understanding, his gentleness. “Thank you, Michael,” she whispered. “Thank you for being the man you are. And thank you,” she added fervently, “for being my friend.”
Heart of the Lonely Exile by B.J. Hoff is the second book in the Emerald Ballad series. Nora Kavanagh and her son Daniel have finally made it to safety in New York, along with orphans Katie, Johanna, and Tom who are under her care, and Englishman Evan Whittaker who became a close friend on the ship across the Atlantic. Sara Farmington and her wealthy father have taken the family into their home and soon find themselves wrapped up in the family's drama. Nora's childhood friend Michael Burke, a police sergeant, proposed marriage to her in a letter before they left Ireland in hopes that he could offer her a safe home, but Nora still doesn't love him as anything more than a friend. Sara and Michael have feelings for each other neither is willing to face as long as Nora is single, but Evan is hoping to do something about that. Hoff adds even more characters in this epic story about the aftermath of the Irish potato famine. There is sweeping romance, major drama as Tierney and Daniel grow to become young men and get caught up in the underworld of the city. Hoff's writing is thoroughly enjoyable and engrossing.
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