House of Mercy

August 30th, 2012

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:

 

Erin Healy

 

and the book:

 

House of Mercy
Thomas Nelson (August 7, 2012)
***Special thanks to Rick Roberson of The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

Erin Healy is an award-winning fiction editor who has worked with talented novelists such as James Scott Bell, Melody Carlson, Colleen Coble, Brandilyn Collins, Traci DePree, L. B. Graham, Rene Gutteridge, Michelle McKinney Hammond, Robin Lee Hatcher, Denise Hildreth, Denise Hunter, Randy Ingermanson, Jane Kirkpatrick, Bryan Litfin, Frank Peretti, Lisa Samson, Randy Singer, Robert Whitlow, and many others.

She began working with Ted Dekker in 2002 and edited twelve of his heart-pounding stories before their collaboration on Kiss, the first novel to seat her on “the other side of the desk.”

Erin is the owner of WordWright Editorial Services, a consulting firm specializing in fiction book development. She is a member of the American Christian Fiction Writers and the Academy of Christian Editors. She lives with her family in Colorado.

Visit the author’s website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

 

Beth has a gift of healing-which is why she wants to become a vet and help her family run their fifth-generation cattle ranch. Her father’s dream of helping men in trouble and giving them a second chance is her dream too. But it only takes one foolish decision for Beth to destroy it all.

Beth scrambles to redeem her mistake, pleading with God for help, even as a mystery complicates her life. But the repercussions grow more unbearable-a lawsuit, a death, a divided family, and the looming loss of everything she cares about. Beth’s only hope is to find the grandfather she never knew and beg for his help. Confused, grieving, but determined to make amends, she embarks on a horseback journey across the mountains, guided by a wild, unpredictable wolf who may or may not be real.

Set in the stunningly rugged terrain of Southern Colorado, House of Mercy follows Beth through the valley of the shadow of death into the unfathomable miracles of God’s goodness and mercy.

Genre: Christian Fiction | Suspense

Product Details:

List Price: $15.99

Paperback: 284 pages

Publisher: Thomas Nelson

Language: English

ISBN-10: 140168551X

ISBN-13: 9781401685515

ISLAND BREEZES

This book is about a young woman’s struggles and the mysterious things that keep happening.

It’s also about the mysterious wolf who guides Beth on her searches. She doesn’t always find what she’s looking for.

What she does discover is mercy and the fact that mercy comes in various forms.

You’re going to need that box of tissues before you finish this book.

The ending is just the beginning. I’m very glad to be introduced to the writings of Erin Healy. I’m looking forward to her next book.

 
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:


–>

 

Chapter 1
It wasn’t every day that an old saddle could improve a
horse’s life.
That was what Beth Borzoi was thinking as she stood in the
dusty tack room that smelled like her favorite pair of leather boots. In the
back corner where the splintering-wood walls met, she tugged the faded leather
saddle off the bottommost rung of the heavy-duty rack, where it had sat, unused
and forgotten, for years.
Her little brother, Danny, would have said she was stealing
the saddle. He might have called her a kleptomaniac. That was too strong a
word, but Danny was fifteen and liked to throw bold words around, cocky-like,
show-off rodeo ropes aimed at snagging people. She loved that about him. It was
a cute phase. Even so, she had formed a mental argument against the characterization
of her- self as a thief, in case she needed to use it, because Danny was too
young to understand the true meaning of even stronger words like sacrifice or
situational ethics.
After all, she was working in secret, in the hidden folds of
a summer night, so that both she and the saddle could leave the Blazing B
unnoticed. In the wrong light, it might look like a theft.
The truth was, it was not her saddle to give away. It was
Jacob’s saddle, though in the fifteen years Jacob had lived at the ranch, she had
never seen him use it. The bigger truth was that this saddle abandoned to
tarnish and sawdust could be put to better use. The fenders were plated with
silver, pure metal that could be melted down and converted into money to save a
horse from suffering. Decorative silver bordered the round skirt and framed the
rear housing. The precious metal had been hammered to conform to the gentle
rise of the cantle in the back and the swell in the front. The lovely round
conchos were studded with turquoise. Hand-tooled impressions of wild mountain f
lowers covered the leather everywhere that silver didn’t.
In its day, it must have been a fine show saddle. And if
Jacob valued that at all, he wouldn’t have stored it like this.
Under the naked-bulb beams of the tack room, Beth’s body
cast a shadow over the pretty piece as she hefted it. She blew the dirt and
dander off the horn, swiped off the cracked seat with the flat of her hand,
then turned away her head and sneezed. Colorado’s dry climate had not been kind
to the leather.
She wasn’t stealing. She was saving an animal’s life.
The latch on the barn door released Beth to the midnight air
with a click like a stolen kiss. The saddle weighed about thirty-five pounds,
which was easy to manage when snatching it off a rack and tossing it onto a
horse’s back. But it would feel much heavier by the time she reached her
destination. She’d parked her truck a ways off where the rumbling old clunker
wouldn’t raise questions or family members sleeping in the nearby ranch house.
She’d left her dog at the foot of Danny’s bed with clear orders to stay. She
hoped the animal would mind.
Energized, she crossed the horses’ yard. A few of them
nickered greetings at her, including Hastings, who nuzzled her empty pockets
for treats. The horses never slept in the barn’s stalls unless they were sick.
Even in winter they stayed in the pasture, preferring the outdoor lean-to
shelters.
The Blazing B, a 6,500-acre working cattle ranch, lay to the
northwest of Colorado’s San Luis Valley. The region was called a valley because
this portion of the state was a Rocky Mountain ham- mock that swung between the
San Juans to the west and the Sangre de Cristos to the east. But at more than
seven thousand feet, it was no low-lying flatland. It was, in fact, the highest
alpine valley in the world. And it was the only place in the world that Beth
ever wanted to live. Having graduated from the local community college with
honors and saved enough additional money for her continuing education, she
planned to leave in the fall to begin her first year of veterinary school. She
would be gone as long as it took to earn her license, but her long-term plan
was to return as a more valuable person. Her skills would save the family
thousands of dollars every year, freeing up funds for their most important
task—providing a home and a hard day’s work to discarded men who needed the
peace the Blazing B had to offer.
On this late May night, a light breeze stirred the alfalfa
growing in the pasturelands while the cattle grazed miles away. The herds
always spent their summers on public lands in the mountains while their winter
feed grew in the valley. They were watched over by a pool rider, a hired man
who was a bit like a cow’s version of a shepherd. He stayed with them through
the summer and would bring them home in the fall.
With the winter calving and spring branding a distant
memory, the streams and irrigation wells amply supplied by good mountain
runoff, and the healthy alfalfa fields thickening with a June cutting in mind,
the mood at the Blazing B was peaceful.
When Beth was a quarter mile beyond the barn, a bobbing
light drew her attention to the west side of the pasture, where ancient cottonwood
trees formed a barrier against seasonal winds and snows. She paused, her eyes
searching the darkness beyond this path that she could walk blindfolded. The
light rippled over cottonwood trunks, casting shadows that were
indistinguishable from the real thing.
A man was muttering in a low voice, jabbing his light around
as if it were a stick. She couldn’t make out his words. Then the yellow beam
stilled low to the ground, and she heard a metallic thrust, the scraping ring
of a shovel’s blade being jammed into the dirt.
Beth worried. It had to be Wally, but what was he doing out
at this hour, and at this place? The bunkhouse was two miles away, and the men
had curfews, not to mention strict rules about their access to horses and
vehicles.
She left the path and approached the trees without a
misstep. The moonlight was enough to guide her over the uneven terrain.
“Wally?”
The cutting of the shovel ceased. “Who wants to know?” “It’s
Beth.”
“Beth who?”
“Beth Borzoi. Abel’s daughter. I’m the one who rides
Hastings.” “Well, sure! Right, right. Beth. I’m sorry you have to keep telling
me. You’re awfully nice about it.”
The light that Wally had set on the ground rose and pointed
itself at her, as if to confirm her claims, then dropped to the saddle resting
against her thighs. Wally had been at the ranch for three years, since a stroke
left his body unaffected but struck his brain with a short-term memory
disorder. It was called anterograde amnesia, a forgetfulness of experiences but
not skills. He could work hard but couldn’t hold a job because he was always
forgetting where and when he was supposed to show up. Here at the ranch he
didn’t have to worry about those details. He had psychologists and strategies
to guide him through his days, a community of brothers who reminded him of
everything he really needed to know. Well, most things. He had been on more
than one occasion the butt of hurtful pranks orchestrated by the men who shared
the bunkhouse with him. It was both a curse and a blessing that he was able to
forget such incidents so easily.
Beth was the only Beth at the Blazing B, and the only female
resident besides her mother, but these facts regularly eluded Wally. He never
forgot her father, though, and he knew the names of all the horses, so this was
how Beth had learned to keep putting herself back into the context of his life.
“You’re working hard,” she said. “You know it’s after
eleven.” “Looking for my lockbox. I saw him take it. I followed him here just
an hour ago, but now it’s gone.”
Sometimes it was money that had gone missing. Sometimes it
was a glove or a photograph, or a piece of cake from her mother’s dinner table
that was already in his belly. All the schedules and organizational systems in
the world were not enough to help Wally with this bizarre side effect of his
disorder: whenever a piece of his mind went missing, he would search for it by
digging. Dr. Roy Davis, Wally’s psychiatrist, had curtailed much of Wally’s
compulsive need to overturn the earth by having him perform many of the Blazing
B’s endless irrigation tasks. Even so, the ten square miles of ranch were
riddled with the chinks of Wally’s efforts to find what he had lost.
“That must be really frustrating,” she said. “I hate it when
I lose my stuff.”
“I didn’t lose it. A gray wolf ran off with it. I had it
safe in a secret spot, and he dug it up and carried off the box in his teeth.
Hauled it all the way up here and reburied it. Now tell me, what’s a wolf gonna
do with my legal tender? Buy himself a turkey leg down at the supermarket?”
Wally must have kept a little cash in his box. She could
under- stand his frustration. But this claim stirred up disquiet at the back of
her mind. Dr. Roy would need to know if Wally was seeing things. First off,
gray wolves were hardly ever spotted in Colorado. They’d been run out of the
state before World War II by poachers and hos- tile ranchers, and their return
in recent years was little more than a rumor. Wally might have seen a coyote.
But for another thing, no wild animal dug up a man’s buried treasure and
relocated it. Except maybe a raccoon.
A raccoon trying to run off with a heavy lockbox might actually
be entertaining.
“Tell you what, Wally. If he’s buried it here we’ll have a
better chance of finding it in the morning. When the sun comes up, I’ll help
you. But they’ll be missing you at the bunkhouse about now. Let me take you
back so no one gets upset when they see you’re gone.” Jacob or Dr. Roy would do
bunk checks at midnight.
“Upset? No one can be as upset as I am right now.” He thrust
the shovel into the soft dirt at his feet. “I saw the dog do it. I tracked him
all the way here, like he thought I wouldn’t see him under this full moon. Fool
dog—but who’d believe me? It’s like a freaky fairy tale, isn’t it? Well, I’d
have put that box in a local vault if I didn’t have to keep so many stinkin’
Web addresses and passwords and account numbers and security questions at my
fingertips.” He withdrew a small notebook from his hip pocket and waved the
pages around. It was one of the things he used to keep track of details. “Maybe
I’ll have to rethink that.”
Beth’s hands had become sweaty and a little cramped under
the saddle’s weight. She used her right knee to balance the saddle and fix her
grip. The soft leather suddenly felt like heavy gold bricks out of someone
else’s bank vault.
“Well, let’s go,” she said. “I’ve got my truck right on down
the lane.”
“What do you have there?” Wally returned the notebook to his
pocket, hefted the shovel, and picked his way out of the under- brush, finding
his way by flashlight.
“An old saddle. It’s been in the tack room for years.” She
expected Wally to forget the saddle just as quickly as he would for- get this
night’s adventure and her promise to help him dig in the morning.
He lifted one of the fenders and stroked the silver with his
thumb. “Pretty thing. Probably worth something. Not as much as that box is
worth to me, though.”
“We’ll find it,” Beth said.
“You bet we will.” Wally fell into step beside her. “Thanks
for the ride back, Beth. You’re a good girl. You got your daddy in you.”
With Jacob’s old saddle resting on a blanket in the bed of
her rusty white pickup, Beth followed an access road from the horse pasture by
her own home down into the heart of the Blazing B.
The property’s second ranch house was located more strategically
to the cattle operation, and so it was known to all as the Hub. The Hub was a
practical bachelor pad. Outside, the branding pens and calving sheds and
squeeze chutes and cattle trucks filled up a dusty clearing around the house.
Inside, the carpets and old leather furniture, even when clean, smelled like
men who believed that a hard day’s work followed by a dead sleep—in any
location—was far more gratifying than a hot shower. The house was steeped in
the scent stains of sweat and hay, horses and manure, tanned leather and
barbecue smoke. The men who slept here lived like the bachelors they were. If
their daily labors weren’t enough to impress a woman, the cowboys couldn’t be
bothered with her.
Dr. Roy Davis, known affectionately by all as Dr. Roy, was a
lifelong friend of Beth’s father. Years ago, after the death of Roy’s wife,
Abel and Roy merged their professional passions of ranching and psychiatry and
expanded the Blazing B’s purpose. It became an outreach to functional but
wounded men like Wally who needed a home and a job. Dr. Roy brought his teenage
son, Jacob, along. Now thirty-one, Jacob had never found reason to leave,
except for the years he’d spent away at college earning multiple degrees in agriculture
and animal management. Jacob had been the Blazing B’s general operations
manager for more than five years.
Jacob and his father shared the Hub with Pastor Eric, who
was a divorced minister, and Emory, a therapist who was once a gang leader.
These men were the Borzois’ four full-time employees.
The other men who lived at the Blazing B were called “associates.”
They occupied the bunkhouse, some for a few weeks and some for years. At
present there were six, including Wally.
When Beth stopped her truck in front of the Hub’s porch,
Wally slipped off the seat of her cab, closed the rusty door, and went directly
around back to the bunkhouse. She pulled away and had reached the end of the
drive when a rut jarred the truck and rattled the shovel he’d left in the truck
bed.
In spite of her hurry to take Jacob’s saddle to the people
who needed it, she put the truck in park, jumped out, and jogged the tool up to
the house. The porch light lit the squeaky wood steps, and she took them two at
a time. Jacob would see the tool in the morning when he came out to start up
his own truck and head out to what- ever project was on the schedule. She’d
phone him to make sure.
She was tipping the handle into the corner where the porch
rail met the siding when the Hub’s front door opened and Jacob leaned out.
“Past your bedtime, isn’t it?” he said,
but he was smiling at
her. Over the years they had settled into a comfortable
big-brother- little-sister relationship, though Beth had never fully outgrown
her adolescent crush on him.
“Found Wally digging up by the barn,” she said.
Surprise pulled his dark brows together. “Now? Where is he?”
“Back in bed, I guess. He said he followed a wolf up to our place. You might
want Dr. Roy to look into that. Your dad should know if Wally’s . . . seeing
things.”
Jacob nodded as he stepped out the door and leaned against
the house. He crossed his arms. “Coyote maybe?”
“Try suggesting that to him. And when was the last time we
had a coyote down here? It’s been ages—not since Danny gave up his chicken
coop.”
“I’ll mention that to Dad. It’s probably nothing. What had
you out at the barn at this hour? Horses okay?”
“Fine.” Beth’s eyes swiveled down to her truck, to Jacob’s
saddle, both well beyond reach of the porch light. She tried to recall all her
justifications for taking the saddle, but in that moment all she could think
was that she should get his permission to do it. She’d known this man more than
half her life. He was kind. He was wise. He’d say yes. He’d want her to take
it.
But she said, “I’m headed out to the Kandinskys’ place.
They’ve got a horse who injured his eye, and it’s pretty bad. They let it go
too long, you know, hoping it would correct itself, maybe wouldn’t need a big
vet bill.”
“The Kandinskys have their own vet on the premises. Who
called you out?”
“It’s not one of their horses, actually. It’s Phil’s.
Remember him?” “Your friend from high school?”
“He’s been working there a year or so. They let him keep the
horse on the property. One of the perks.”
“But he can’t use their vet?”
Beth looked at her feet. “Phil’s family can’t afford their
vet. You know how that goes. We couldn’t afford him. His family doesn’t even
have pets, you know. They run a grocery store. The horse is his little sister’s
project. A 4H thing.”
“Well, tell Phil I said he called the right gal for the
job.”
“I don’t know, Jacob. It sounds really bad. These eye
things— the horse might need surgery.”
She found it unusually difficult to look at him, though she
was sure he was studying her with a suspicious stare by now. But she couldn’t
look at the truck either. Her eyes couldn’t find an object to rest on.
“All you can do is all you can do, Beth. That’ll be as true
after you’re licensed as it is now.”
“But I want to do miracles,” she said.
He chuckled at that, though she hadn’t been joking. “Don’t
we all.” He uncrossed his arms and put his hand on the doorknob, preparing to
go back inside. “I heard some big-shot Thoroughbred breeder is boarding some of
his studs there,” Jacob said. “Some friend of theirs passing through.”
“I heard that too.”
“Maybe that’ll be Phil’s miracle this time—an unexpected
guest, someone with the right know-how or the right resources who will come to
his horse’s rescue.”
“Angels unaware,” Beth said. “Something like that. Night,
Beth.”
Beth didn’t want him to go just yet. “Night.”
She lingered at the door while it closed, hoping he might
intuit what she didn’t have the courage to say.
When he didn’t, she committed to her original plan. She
descended the steps in a quiet rush, wanting to whisk the saddle away before he
could object to what he didn’t know. She wanted to be the one who did the good
works, who made the incredible rescue. She couldn’t help herself. It was her
father’s blood running through her heart.
On the driveway, her smooth-soled boots skimmed the dirt,
whispering back to her truck.
“It’s not your right to do it,” Jacob said. Beth gasped and
whirled at the sound of his voice, unexpected and loud and straight into her
ear, as if he’d been standing on her shoulder. “It’s not your gift to give.”
But the ranch house door was shut tight under the cone of
the porch light, and the bright window revealed nothing inside but heavy
furniture and cluttered tabletops. At the back of the house, a different door
closed heavily. Jacob was headed out to the bunk- house to check on Wally
already.
Beth let her captured breath leave her lungs. She looked
around for an explanation, because she didn’t want to accept that the words
might have been uttered by a guilty conscience.
At the base of the porch steps, crouching in such darkness
that its black center sank into its surroundings, was the form of an unusually
large dog. Erect ears, broad head, slender body. A wolf. She had passed that
spot so closely seconds ago that she could have reached out and stroked its
neck.
She took one step backward. Of course, her mind was dreaming
this up because Wally had suggested a wolf to her. If he hadn’t, she might have
said the silhouette had the outline of a snowman. An inverted snowman guarding
the house from her lies. In May.
Beth stared at it for several seconds, oddly unable to
recall the landscape where she’d spent her entire life. She was distressed not
to be able to say from this distance and angle whether that was a shrub planted
there, or a fence post, or an old piece of equipment that hadn’t made it back
into the supply shed. When the shape of its edges seemed to shift and shudder without
actually moving at all, she decided that her eyes were being tricked by the
darkness.
Convincing herself of this was almost as easy as justifying
her saddle theft.
She turned away from the house and hurried onward, looking back
only once.

Back on the Island

August 29th, 2012

Just a short post to let you know I’m safely back on the island. 

Unfortunately, I’m still not sure if my brother is safe.  He’s stationed at the air force base at Biloxi.  This is situated on a tiny peninsula.  My sister-in-love packed up the dog and pulled one of my hurricane bug outs.  She got in the car and drove, so even though I don’t know where she is yet, I feel sure she’s safe. 

My brother had to hole up in his office in the base hospital.  I haven’t been able to reach him since Isaac hit, so I’m not sure about him. 

If any of you all are so inclined, I would appreciate your prayers.

Story

August 28th, 2012

Storyteller Recaptures the Mystery of the Ancient Scriptures

 

Author Steven James leads readers to (re)experience the greatest story ever told.

James, a professional storyteller from East Tennessee, grew up in the church but fell in love with Jesus at age 21 on Easter Sunday at his bosses’ church. “Easter is a love story; I’d never realized it before, but I had to experience the entire Christian story to be truly moved and changed by it,” he says.

Through 30 short chapters, James retells key elements of the Christian story-from Adam and Eve in the Garden, to the Israelites plea for freedom and the love/hate struggles between humans and God in the Old Testament. Story illuminates Jesus miraculous birth and daring ministry on earth, building to the “rising terror” of the crucifixion and rediscovery of freedom following the resurrection.

A Story Unlike Any Other

At one point, James paints the brutal murder of Able in the Old Testament through the eyes of his brother Cain. He views Jesus dancing and turning water into wine at the wedding feast at Cana through the testimony of the bewildered bride. At another, he writes as a frightened onlooker as Jesus struggles to carry his cross to Golgotha, and captures the chaos sweeping through the Holy Land following the resurrection. All the while, James relates the events of the Bible to life on Earth today.

“I’m thankful Jesus didn’t come to start another religion. Jesus didn’t arrive on earth to debate theology but to propose marriage. In a very real spiritual sense, God is courting us. Christianity is wild. It’s intimate. It’s heartbreaking and soul-mending,” writes James.

However, James believes the real meaning of Easter has been lost somewhere in the last 2,000 years. “The bunny has stolen the rabbi and stolen the show,” James writes. “Easter has evolved into just another nice, harmless, spineless, little holiday…when it’s supposed to be about a wrestling match between life and death, a cosmic struggle between good and evil.”

James invites readers to meet Jesus again-or for the very first time. “It’s all one story. And only when you finally untangle it, see it unfold, and enter it for yourself do you realize that the story has finally entered and at last untangled you,” James writes

ISLAND BREEZES

This book is much different from Steven James books I’ve read previously. I certainly didn’t expect to need that box of tissues while reading the introduction, but the beauty of it caused tears.

Steven James can’t be boxed into any one genre. This is the old story made new from beginning to end.

Read this book and heed it’s message. Your soul will rejoice.

***A special thank you to Donna Hausler for providing a review copy.***

Critically acclaimed author Steven James has written more than thirty books, including his bestselling Patrick Bowers series. One of the nation’s most innovative storytellers, Steven developed his skill as a performer at East Tennessee State University (MA in storytelling). Steven is a much sought after speaker for writing conferences and seminars around the world. He lives in Tennessee with his wife and three daughters.

Available August 2012 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.

Chased by Isaac

August 27th, 2012

Had to bug out ahead of Isaac.  Getting ready to run over to the mainland and head NE to join up with Consumer Man.  Will probably get back late Wednesday and hope to write before hitting the hay.

Hope all’s well with all you all.

Woe to Him

August 26th, 2012

Jesus said to his disciples, “Occasions for stumbling are bound to come, but woe to anyone by whom they come! 

It would be better for you if a millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea than for you to cause one of these little ones to stumble.

Be on your guard!  If another disciple sins, you must rebuke the offender, and if there is repentance, you must forgive. 

And if the same person sins against you seven times a day, and turns back to you seven times, and say. ‘I repent,’ you must forgive.”

Luke 17:1-4

The Other Side of Goodness

August 23rd, 2012

The Other Side of Goodness

How far will faith and love go when an ambitious man finds himself in the fight of his life—with a woman who knows the other side of goodness all too well…

Fifty-year-old Alabama congressman Lawrence Rudolph Simmons will do whatever it takes to get re-elected—even switch parties from Democrat to Republican. With the political tide turning, Lawrence feels it’s his best shot—along with his charisma, solid twenty-nine year marriage, and three great kids. But a buried secret from his past is about to be resurrected.…

It’s been eight years since Gabrielle Mercedes gave up her baby for adoption. But when she learns the child desperately needs a bone marrow transplant, she doesn’t hesitate to contact the congressman. Like Lawrence, Gabrielle will fight for what she wants, even if it means the truth could ruin someone else’s life and career….

ISLAND BREEZES
What a mess! Gabrielle is in the middle of a fight – a life changing fight for all involved. And the enemy is playing dirty.
And Paris. She’s a real trip. It’s amazing just how self-absorbed (selfish) she is.
There’s a lot of family dynamics going on in this book. And it’s not an “everyone lived happily ever after” book.

Some of the secrets begin to come out, and some good things happen by the end, but we’re left dangling.

Although this book is part of the Blessed Trinity series, it is a good stand alone read.

I presume there will be another book to follow in order to deal with the unfinished business at the end. I hope Ms Griggs is a fast writer. I’m ready to read the next book now.

***A special thank you to Adeola Saul for providing a review copy.***

 

“God’s Cheerleader,” Vanessa Davis Griggs is an author and motivational speaker who adores the power of words both written and spoken. At the end of 1996, this former BellSouth employee left 18 years of service stepping out on faith and decided to pursue her purpose and passion–writing. Proving out Proverbs 18:16, A man’s gift maketh room for him, and bringeth him before great men, she began her own company (Free To Soar) emphasizing the taking off of limits as she travels inspiring and encouraging others–both young and old–to take flight like an eagle and do the same.

You can go here to read the first chapter.

Tidewater Inn

August 23rd, 2012

Tidewater Inn

 

Welcome to Hope Beach. A place of intoxicating beauty . . . where trouble hits with the force of a hurricane.

Inheriting a beautiful old hotel on the Outer Banks could be a dream come true for Libby. The inn cries out for her restorer’s talent and love of history. She’s delighted to learn of the family she never knew she had. And the handsome Coast Guard lieutenant she’s met there on the island could definitely be the man of her dreams.

But Libby soon realizes that the only way she can afford the upkeep on the inn is to sell it to developers who are stalking the island. The father who willed her the inn has died before she could meet him, and her newfound brother and sister are convinced she’s there to steal their birthright. Worst of all, her best friend and business partner has been kidnapped before her eyes, and Libby’s under suspicion for the crime.

Libby’s dream come true is becoming a nightmare. Her only option is to find her friend and prove her innocence, or lose everything on the shores of Hope Island.

ISLAND BREEZES

Libby is a restorer of historical buildings and an old inn has just landed in her lap. A father she never knew left it to her.

She also inherits a couple of sulky half-siblings who resent her to no end.

That’s just the beginning of her problems. Her best friend is kidnapped and she’s a suspect. It appears that there’s no one who trusts her or believes in her innocence.

Then there’s a problem with restoring and running her inn. It’s going to take a lot of money she doesn’t have.

***A special thank you to litfuse for providing a review copy.***.

Colleen Coble’s forty novels and novellas have won or finaled in awards ranging from the Romance Writers of America prestigious RITA, the Holt Medallion, the ACFW Book of the Year, the Daphne du Maurier, National Readers’ Choice, the Booksellers Best, and the 2009 Best Books of Indiana-Fiction award. She writes romantic mysteries because she loves to see justice prevail and love begin with a happy ending.

Digital Winter

August 21st, 2012

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:

 

Mark Hitchcock and Alton Gansky

 

and the book:

 

Digital Winter
Harvest House Publishers (August 1, 2012)
***Special thanks to Ginger Chen of Harvest House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***

 

ABOUT THE AUTHORS:

 

Mark Hitchcock is the author of nearly 20 books related to end-time Bible prophecy, including the bestselling 2012, the Bible, and the End of the World.
He earned a ThM and PhD from Dallas Theological Seminary and is the
senior pastor of Faith Bible Church in Edmond, Oklahoma. He has worked
as an adjunct professor at DTS, and he and his wife, Cheryl, have two
sons.
Alton Gansky is the author of 30 books—24 of them novels, including the Angel Award winner Terminal Justice and Christy Award finalist A Ship Possessed.
A frequent speaker at writing conferences, he holds BA and MA degrees
in biblical studies. Alton and his wife reside in Southern California.

www.altongansky.com

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

 

Prophecy expert Mark Hitchcock and novelist Alton
Gansky provide a suspenseful and fast-moving story of life after a
massive cyber attack. Surgeons find themselves operating without
electricity. The military can’t use its computers… This gripping story
of darkness and heroism highlights prophetic themes and the danger of a
cyber attack.

Product Details:

List Price: $14.99

Paperback: 352 pages

Publisher: Harvest House Publishers

Language: English

ISBN-10: 0736949127

ISBN-13: 978-0736949125

ISLAND BREEZES

You can’t just leave me hanging like this. I hope you guys are writing like crazy to get the next book out.

Talk about suspense! This book has it. It certainly isn’t a run of the mill book. It’s an “I cant put it down” kind of book.

This book has it all. Medical drama, suspense, love, computer geek stuff. Enough scary stuff to turn a person into a “prepper.”

The worst part of the book is also the best part. Something similiar really could happen.

 
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:


–>

 

Stanley Elton
January 20, 2014
Shadow, shadow on my
right,
Stanley
Elton emerged from the bedroom at
precisely 7:10 a.m., his favorite mug in his hand containing his favorite
African blend of coffee. Truth was, he had seven favorite mugs, one for each
day of the week. He had seven favorite blends of coffee as well, seven favorite
dress shirts, seven chosen suits of varying shades of gray, and seven power
ties.
T?he morning sunlight had already
pushed back some of the thick clouds that covered the parts of San Diego
closest to the Pacific. His part of San Diego was called Coronado Island,
although it wasn’t a true island. Situated on a stretch of land called the Strand,
the small community rested on a jut of property that looked from the air like
an arthritic thumb sticking into the blue waters.
Founded in 1860, the city of Coronado
was home to the elite. North Island Naval Air Station took much of the prime
real estate, but there was still plenty of room for retired admirals, CEOs, and
entrepreneurs who made sudden wealth in the digital age. A stroll through the
city streets sometimes allowed tourists a glimpse of a celebrity.
Stanley Elton was no celebrity or entrepreneur;
he wasn’t a retired admiral or a man of old money. He was, however, the CEO of
San Diego’s largest CPA firm, a company whose client list included scores of
the top companies in the country. He was on a first-name basis with people
often mentioned in the Wall Street Journal. For
thirty years he worked for OPM Accounting. Most people assumed OPM stood for
the founders of the firm, people who died a generation ago. It didn’t. Insiders
knew OPM stood for Other People’s Money. A bit tongue in cheek, but it drew
hearty laughs for the few who knew the joke.
“Nice day.” Stanley moved to the open
kitchen and kissed his wife on the top of the ear.
“You know that gives me the shivers.”
Royce Elton pulled away and tried to rub her ear on her shoulder, her hands
busy flipping eggs and turning bacon. A pot next to the frying pan cooked down
some oatmeal. Instant oatmeal wasn’t good enough for her son, Donny. At least
he ate something close to healthy.
“My presence has always made you
shiver.” Elton slurped his coffee.
“Shudder is more like it.” Her tone was
playful.
“Shiver, shudder; potato, patahto.” He
moved from the kitchen and took his usual spot at the floor-to-ceiling window
overlooking the rolling Pacific. T?he $3.5 million condo was on the top floor
of one of the fifteen ten-story structures on the Strand. Built in the 1960s,
the luxury buildings caused such a stir that a city ordinance was passed
forbidding similar towering structures in Coronado. Too late and too little.
From the wide living room, Stanley
could look to the left and see the Pacific Ocean or look right and see the calm
waters of Glorietta Bay. “Water everywhere and not a drop to drink.”
“Good thing we have plumbing and
coffee.” Royce dropped two pieces of bacon (well done) and two eggs (over hard)
onto a scalloped-edged green plate. A moment later, she added two pieces of rye
toast.
He stepped to the dining table. “Dining
room” would be inaccurate. T?he only real rooms in the open floor plan were the
bathrooms and bedrooms. Royce set the plate on the glass top. She sat next to
him, sipping a chocolate diet shake.
“Eating real food while watching you
suck on that stuff fills me with guilt.” He stuck a piece of bacon in his
mouth.
“You’re a man. You’re supposed to feel
guilty. It goes with the Y chromosome.”
“T?his is what I get for marrying a
geneticist.”
“Brains are sexy.”
“Really? I hadn’t heard.”
Royce raised an eyebrow. “You know, I
can poison your breakfast.”
“T?hat’s why we have Rosa cook our
other meals. Cuts down on your opportunity to cash in on the life insurance.”
He cut one egg in half and scooped it into his mouth. Stanley didn’t like
wasting time on trivial things like breakfast. “Busy day?”
“Usual classes at the university, and
then I have about four hours in the lab. I’ll be late. I have to grade test
papers after that. Rosa has something planned for you and Donny.”
“She’s as good a cook as she is a
nurse.” Down went the second half of the egg.
“She’s a jewel. We should pay her
more.”
It was Stanley’s turn to raise an
eyebrow. “Really? She makes good money now.”
“I’m not sure it covers all she does.
Dealing with Donny isn’t easy.”
Stanley contemplated the comment while
gnawing on the bacon. “What do you mean? He sits in his room and doesn’t cause
any trouble. He’s as passive as someone with his condition can be.”
Royce frowned. She hated it when
Stanley referred to Donny’s challenges as his
condition
.
“Sorry,” he said. “You know what I
mean. Other people like him can be high maintenance.”
Another frown. “He requires a lot of
care, Stan. You know that.”
“Of course. I do my share.”
She touched his arm. “I know, dear. I
didn’t mean that. You do more than any other father would. You provide an
income that allows us to get all the help we need. My professor’s salary
wouldn’t pay for one room in this place. I’m just saying we should reward Rosa.
She’s been with us since Donny was ten. T?hat’s twelve years.”
“She’s a trooper. Did you have
something in mind?”
“I thought of a paid vacation, but I
don’t think she’d leave Donny for more than a few days. She’s so devoted to
him. I know that her car is getting a little long in the tooth. She had to take
it into the shop. Cost her a pretty bundle to get the transmission fixed.”
“You want to pay for the repairs?”
“No, I want to buy her a car.”
Stanley lowered his fork. “You’re
kidding, right?” He could see she wasn’t. “You mean like a Porsche or Ferrari
or—”
“Of course not. I was thinking of a
Prius or some other hybrid. It would save her some gas money.”
Stanley furrowed his brow, narrowed his
eyes, and clinched his jaw, but he couldn’t maintain the pretense. He had never
been angry at his wife and couldn’t imagine starting now. T?he forced frown
gave way to the upward pressure of a smile.
“You’re working me, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, but it’s going to cost you
another cup of coffee. I’ll let you make the arrangements. Take the money from
the house account.” He paused. “We are talking just one car, right?”
“For now.” She rose, kissed him on the
forehead, and took his cup to refill it. “Speaking of Rosa, she said something
yesterday that seemed…”
“What?”
“I don’t know what word to use.
Unexpected.” She filled the cup and returned to the table. “She said Donny
spoke.”
“Spoke? You mean more than one word?”
“She meant sentences.”
“You’re kidding. I’ve never heard him
link words together. I thought it was beyond his ability.”
“We don’t know that.” Royce the
geneticist was talking now. “His condition is a mystery. T?here are only a
handful of savants in the world. We don’t know what goes on in his brain.”
“What did he say?”
“She told me she couldn’t make out all
the words. He stopped when she entered the room. Something about shadows.”
“Maybe she was hearing something from
one of his computers.”
“Maybe, but she didn’t think so.”
Stanley checked his watch. “Why didn’t
you tell me this last night?”
“Um, because you didn’t come home until
nearly midnight and you were half asleep.”
“Oh, yeah.” He rose. “T?hanks for
breakfast. Good as Rosa is, food cooked by my wife always tastes better.”
“I manipulate the alleles in the eggs.”
“T?hat’s more science talk, isn’t it?”
“You going to say goodbye to him?”
“Just like every day for twenty-two
years.”
“T?hanks.”
Stanley started the most difficult task
of his day. He loved his son, but he would rather face off against a bunch of
IRS attorneys than turn the doorknob to his boy’s bedroom.
As his hand touched the brass knob, he
heard a voice from the other side of the door:
Shadow, shadow on my
right,
….
Donny Elton sat in his chair as he did
every hour he wasn’t sleeping. T?he chair was an expensive, well-padded iBOT
designed by inventor Dean Kamen. It was powered and could raise Donny to the
eye level of any adult not playing in the NBA. A series of gyros and a robust
computer program enabled it to climb stairs without tipping. T?he invention had
been a boon to wheelchair-bound consumers.
But Donny wasn’t bound to the
wheelchair. He could walk if he wanted, jump if he desired, and even sprint if
he had a mind to, but he never did. At least that was what the doctors said.
Under heavy sedation, Donny had endured MRIs, CAT scans, X-rays, muscle
conductivity studies, and other medical tests. All came back negative.
“T?he problem isn’t with this body,”
the doctors said. “T?he problem is in his mind. He doesn’t want to walk.” T?hat
had been the end of their assessment. No one could offer any ideas of how to
make a healthy twenty-two-year-old who was monosyllabic on his best day and
mute on his worst and who possessed an IQ above 200 do what he didn’t want to
do. “You simply cannot make a man walk if he doesn’t want to.” T?hey had been
united in that assessment.
Stanley, in the few quiet moments he
allowed himself, wondered why his son refused to walk or engage with humanity.
Yes, his savant condition was probably due to autism, but research had yet to
come to a consensus on that.
Stanley stood in the open door with a
bowl of hot oatmeal in one hand and wondered if he had heard what he thought he
heard.
“Hey, buddy. Mom whipped up some
oatmeal for you.” He moved to the long desk that took up all of one wall in the
place they called Stanley’s bedroom. It looked more like a NASA control center
than a place to sleep. A series of four 27-inch monitors lined the table, and
two computer towers sat nearby. T?hey were never turned off. More than once,
Stanley had awakened in the night to hear Donny’s fingers tapping on the
keyboard.
“Oatmeal. Food. Oatmeal. Good.”
Stanley set the bowl and spoon on an
unoccupied spot of the table. “Whatcha working on, pal?”
“Oatmeal. Good.”
Stanley was thankful Donny could feed
himself. He needed help dressing and using the bathroom, but at least he could
manage to put a spoon in his mouth or hold a sandwich. Small
blessings.
T?he large window of the bedroom
overlooked the Pacific side of the Strand. T?he thinning cloud cover allowed
the morning sun to paint sparkles on the gentle swells and surf. A short
distance from the shore, surfers waited for the ocean to offer more waves.
Although Stanley couldn’t see them from this window, he knew that new Navy
SEALs were training there. Such was Coronado: home to the wealthy, a mecca for
sun worshippers, a training ground for the Navy, and a magnet for tourists.
Donny knew none of this. Stanley
doubted his son had ever noticed the beauty outside his window, the kind of
view that made the 1700-square-foot, three-bedroom, three-bath condo worth $3.5
million. T?he only things Donny seemed to notice were on the computer monitors.
Stanley doubted the young man even knew him. T?he last thought brought pain, as
it did a dozen times every day.
Line upon line of code filled the
monitors. For a few moments, Stanley considered having a programmer look at it,
but he dismissed the idea. What difference would it make?
“I’m headed to work, son. I’ll be home
late again, but I’ll look in on you. Mom will be here until Rosa arrives.”
“Rosa. Oatmeal. Good.” Donny took a
bite of the pasty meal.
Stanley ran his fingers through his
son’s hair. He loved the boy even if he had never caught a baseball or watched
a football game. “Take it easy, champ.”
“Bye. Later. Oatmeal.”
Stanley turned when something appeared
in the corner of his eye—something dark, indistinct. He snapped his head around
but saw nothing.
Closing the door, Stanley paused and
tried to push back the gloom that draped his mind. T?hen he heard Donny’s voice
again.
Shadow, shadow on my
right,

Shadow, shadow on my left,

Shadow, shadow everywhere,

Shadow has all the might.

Shadow, shadow on my left,

Shadow, shadow everywhere,

Shadow has all the might.

Shadow, shadow on my left,

Shadow, shadow everywhere,

Shadow has all the might.

Dying to Read

August 20th, 2012

Dying to Read

By Lorena McCourtney

 

Lorena McCourtney has spun a fast-paced and witty romantic mystery in her new book, Dying to Read. From the very first chapter, she grabs your attention and keeps you hooked until the very end.

Cate Kinkaid is just dipping her toe into the world of private investigating until one of the many résumés she has floating around lands her a real job. All she has to do is determine that a particular woman lives at a particular address. Simple, right? When the big and brooding house happens to contain a dead body, this routine PI job turns out to be anything but simple. Is Cate in over her head?

ISLAND BREEZES

I want to read more books about Cate Kinkaid. I’ve always loved mysteries, and have to admit to a secret desire to become a PI. Well, I guess that’s not a secret anymore.

Cate seems to have spent a lot of time bungling through life. I guess that’s why it was no surprise to see her bungle through a murder investigation.

She also managed to bungle through one love relationship, and got off to a rough start with another one.

I certainly hope Ms. McCourtney plans on writing a lot of these Cate mysteries. I’m also interested in learning more about Mitch. And then there’s Willow. I hope she pops up every now and then.

***A special thank you to Donna Hausler for providing a review copy.***

Lorena McCourtney is the award-winning author of dozens of novels, including Invisible (which won the Daphne du Maurier Award from Romance Writers of America), In Plain Sight, On the Run, and Stranded. She resides in Oregon.

Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group, offers practical books that bring the Christian faith to everyday life.? They publish resources from a variety of well-known brands and authors, including their partnership with MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) and Hungry Planet.

Available August 2012 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group

Win a Kindle Fire or Nook Color

August 17th, 2012
Win a Kindle Fire or Nook Color from @SuzanneWFisher in “The Haven” Giveaway! RSVP for Live Video Chat on 8/30!

 

Celebrate the newest book in the Stoney Ridge Seasons series with Suzanne by entering her 4 eReader Giveaway and Facebook Party and RSVPing for the Live Video Chat on 8/30! 

See what folks are saying about The Haven!

Four grand prize winners will receive:

  • A Brand new Kindle Fire or Nook Color 
  • $25 Amazon.com or Barnes&Noble.com Gift certificate 

Enter today by clicking one of the icons below. But hurry, the giveaway ends on August 29th. Winner will be announced at Suzanne’s Live Author Chat Party on 8/30

. Suzanne will be hosting an author chat (party will start on Facebook AND then be Live from her website) and giving away books, gift certificates and several Burt’s Bees® Nourishing Radiance Kits!!

So grab your copy of The Haven and join Suzanne on the evening of the August 30th for a fun chat (both on Facebook and via Live Video), trivia contest and lots of giveaways. 

Enter via E-mail Enter via FacebookEnter via Twitter

Don’t miss a moment of the RSVP today. Tell your friends via FACEBOOK or TWITTER and increase your chances of winning. Hope to see you on the 30th!